FIC: A Samhain Visit
Oct. 30th, 2023 01:35 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fifty_fiftyAll that remained was his mask.
It was useful that the Samhain festival involved the wearing of masks, it allowed one to conceal their identity. Traditionally it was supposed to be from evil spirits, but for Arthur it allowed him some true anonymity.
Arthur took one last look at himself in the mirror critically. It hadn’t been easy, but he had finally acquired all the clothing he needed to blend in with the people of the lower town. He had had to pay a few servants to fetch clothing, and the shirt he’d nabbed from Merlin on their last hunting trip.
All that remained was his mask.
It was useful that the Samhain festival involved the wearing of masks, it allowed one to conceal their identity. Traditionally it was supposed to be from evil spirits, but for Arthur it allowed him some true anonymity.
It had been a long time since he’d done this. The last time, he thought, with a pang of pain, had been with Morgana.
They had often snuck out together back when they were young. Some of the guards of the castle had been courteous enough to turn a blind-eye to their shenanigans. Perhaps they were the kind of townsfolk who had secretly continued to celebrate such festivals.
His father wasn’t stupid. He knew there were people who still practiced the old ways. But he too turned a blind eye to the biggest of the festivals, not wanting to risk an uprising when people were having a bit of fun to get them though the toughest times of the year. They themselves still celebrated yule and burned a yule log in the fireplace of the main hall.
Arthur had acquired his mask from the physician's chambers,Gaius had a particularly horrific bunny mask that was often propped up near the table. He had used to borrow it in the past—he was pretty sure the old man knew that he had, and thus he kept the thing around still, just in case—he always made sure to return it.
With the mask tucked safely within his cloak, Arthur blew out the candles in his room and slowly crept through the castle to an old, unused door on the south side of the castle, sneaking out when the guards were at the far end of the hallway.
He made his way through the darkness of the upper town like a thief through the night. Most of the folks were already at the celebrations, all ready to bring home a flame from the fire to light the wood in their hearths, as was the tradition.
When he was younger, he had always wanted to do this. But he hadn’t dared risk it, not even Morgana had. It was impossible to conceal—much less explain—why you were carrying a flaming stick that was not a torch into the castle in the dead of night.
As he came closer, he started to hear the noise of people talking, and singing, the light of the fire illuminating the sky above.
He reached under his cloak for his mask and tied it around his head using string and pulled up his hood. He couldn’t risk anything that might give him away—he’d even gotten some old boots, something his idiotic magical manservant failed to realise was a dead giveaway when he played the old rude sorcerer. He’d kicked himself for not noticing sooner when it had finally came to his attention.
It wasn’t as hard as he feared in the end. He managed to slip into the crowd unnoticed and was able to enjoy watching his people embracing the night. And each other in some cases.
As he milled around between the people, he came to a standstill when he saw a tall, lean man with wild hair sticking up from behind his mask. Merlin.
He swallowed hard against the lump in his throat, his heart beating rapidly in his chest as their eyes met. He turned hurriedly, knowing that Merlin was the one person who would recognise him in an instant. He hadn’t expected to see him.
Trust Merlin to be bold enough to go out celebrating a festival for the old religion when in service to Camelot!
Arthur should have known better.
He started to weave though the people, glancing over his shoulder, but it was heard to see through the eye holes of the stupid mask.
He caught a glimpse of Merlin hot on his heels and hastened to increase his pace, pushing through people now, as his mind raced trying to think of the closest way out of the lower town and up towards the citadel. Shamefully, he had allowed himself to become less familiar over the years with the lower town. It was difficult to wa;k there unnoticed anymore.
“Wait, wait!“ he heard Merlin calling behind him.
He stumbled over something left on the ground, in his haste and the stupid mask, almost tumbling, but managing to recover. But it was enough for Merlin to be able to reach out and grasp his arm, tugging him towards him.
“Arthur,“ he hissed. “Stop. You’re making a scene. I’m not going to tell anyone.“
Arthur stared at him, finally able to take a good look. Merlin, was of course wearing a bird mask.
“Unhand me this instant, Merlin.“
“All right, but promise me you’ll stay,“ he insisted.
Snatching his arm away, Arthur glowered at him. He had been having a perfectly nice evening up until now. He couldn’t help but feel like it was ruined now.
“Come on,“ said Merlin. “Let’s get some food, this way.“
Merlin dipped off into the crowd which had started milling around again, and Arthur was left with no other choice other than to follow him. His manservant was bound to get himself in some kind of trouble if Arthur didn’t supervise him.
They spent the evening watching as events unfolded.
Arthur winced a little in spite of himself, when several animals were sacrificed and thrown in the fire. They ducked into the shadows with their food and ale to eat and drink without their masks, preventing them from being recognised.
It was kind of nice in a way. It was almost as though they were friends.
As the crowds began to thin, Merlin led him over towards the giant bonfire, and grabbed a stick nearby, shoving it into the fire along with several others who were doing the same.
He came back to Arthur with the flame.
“Right, shall we go then?“
“Go where?“
“Back to Camelot.“
“With that? Are you mad?“
“Of course, why else would I have got one?“
“We can’t go inside the castle with that Merlin. My father would never allow it.“
Merlin made a dismissive noise.
“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.“
“What about the guards?“
“They never mind,“ Merlin said as they started to walk towards the citadel. “We won’t be the only one. So long as you go around to the servants quarters near the kitchen. You’d be surprised how many servants bring back the flame for their masters and mistresses.“
Arthur glanced at Merlin as they made their way through the streets. It shouldn’t surprise him that Merlin talked so casually with him about committing treason. He was living and breathing treason with every step he took within Camelot’s borders. Taking a flame from the Samhain fire was probably very far down on his list of transgressions.
“Come on,“ he said, urging Merlin on. “Don’t dawdle, let’s get this over with.“
They crept around the castle together, reminding Arthur of all the times he’d done this when he was younger, though there was no sneaking when they got to the doors of the servant quarters.
“Hello Merlin, good night was it?“ a woman holding the door open asked him.
Merlin had already removed his mask, and he grinned widely.
“Yeah, it was really good.“
“I’ll say,“ she said, leering at Arthur who shifted uncomfortably, hoping he wouldn’t be recognised. “Good for you, Merlin, it’s about time you got yourself a man rather than pining over the prince.“
Merlin’s cheeks pinked.
“Come on,“ he said to Arthur, tugging his arm. “This way.“
“I think I know the way around my own castle, Merlin,“ he whispered sharply.
They hurried up the stairs to the next floor and along a few—thankfully empty corridors—then up another staircase, winding their way towards Arthur’s room as the flame started to falter, the stick having burned down, almost to embers.
“Quick, open the door,“ Merlin said, shielding the flame.
He hurried past Arthur towards the dying ashes of his own fire.
Merlin threw some kindling haphazardly into the hearth and then pushed the stick into it.
His eyes glowed a little and Arthur hid a smile as he went to remove his mask, ready for Merlin’s performance as he crowed to Arthur about them having made it.
Once upon a time, Arthur would have believed him.
Now he just felt drained by it all, as he wondered for probably the hundredth time when Merlin was finally going to tell him.
He discarded his cloak and threw it over the back of the chair and placed the mask on the table, he’d return it to Gaius tomorrow.
“Well, best be turning in. A busy day tomorrow.“
Merlin looked at him, confused.
“Yes, of course,“ he agreed, his face shuttering, going from friendly to professional in an instant.
Arthur hated it.
“I—i hope I didn’t upset you when I asked you to stay.“
Arthur waved his hand at him.
“It’s fine. It was good for me to know what my people get up to in the dead of night. Including my manservant.“
“Right,“ Merlin said passively. “Well, unless you have a need of me, I’ll take my leave. Sire.“
Arthur rolled his eyes, as he discarded the scratchy shirt he’d been wearing.
“And go through the cold halls again and risk getting caught? No. Stay.“
He got into bed, shivering under the cold bedcovers.
“Stay where?“
Arthur threw a cushion at his head.
“Where do you think, you idiot? Now hurry up. If you freeze to death you’ll be of no use to me.“
He heard Merlin getting ready, kicking off his boots and taking off his jacket before he tentatively got into bed on the other side.
“Goodnight, Merlin,“ Arthur told him.
“Goodnight, sire.“
And as he drifted off to sleep, Arthur wondering how much longer Merlin was going to make him wait.
