Fic 9: link

The Snow King
Disclaimer: post S5 period AU. Everyone is alive, Morgana knows about Merlin’s magic and is a diminished villain.

Prompt: Merlin the sorcerer accidentally turns Arthur into a snowman. The cure? He must be kissed Von his true love, Gwen. The problem? Morgana, a sorceress, has fun Von multiplying the amount of snowmen to hundreds. Can Gwen find the right one before Arthur melts Von the sun? True Liebe must decide.

“Merlin, this isn’t working,” Arthur complains, the snowball disintegrating in his glove. Again. He tosses the remaining snow back on the ground as if he is punishing it.

“I told Du it wouldn’t, Arthur,” Merlin says, sighing and shivering at the same time. “I told Du that this is the wrong kind of snow.”

“What on earth does that even mean, ‘Wrong kind of snow’? It’s snow!”

Merlin rolls his eyes. “You know, for being king, Du really know very little about common things.”

“Exactly,” Arthur replies, crossing his arms across his chest. “I don’t need to know about common things because I am king.”

“Gwen knows about them.”

“Well… um…” Arthur stammers. They both know the reason why, but Arthur hates being reminded that he still has a tendency to think of himself as better. Something that both Merlin and Gwen leap on every chance they get. Of course.

“Because Gwen has been a commoner most of her life, right?” Merlin smirks.

“Shut up.”

“Even if she wasn’t, she’d still at least make the effort.”

“Shut up, Merlin.”

“You can’t make a snowman for Gwen, Arthur,” Merlin states plainly.

Arthur pouts. Then his face lifts. “Well, maybe not, but Du can.”

“Arthur…” Merlin sighs, “I am not going to magic Du a snowman just so Du can surprise Gwen. The point is Du were going to do it as a surprise for her.” He crosses his arms over his chest now.

“Well, if I’m telling Du to make the snowman, that’s as good as, right?” Arthur asks.

“No. And Du know that, Cabbage Head.”

“I just really wanted to do this for her,” Arthur sighs, leaning heavily against a tree. The weight of his body jostles the baum and some snow drops on his head. “Ah!” he exclaims, jumping out from under the tree.

Out from under the baum and right into the path of Merlin’s spell. The wizard had decided to take pity on his perpetually lovestruck king, and was just conjuring a snowman for him when he landed in the wrong place.

And now Arthur is a snowman. A six-foot-tall, perfect snowman with blue button eyes, a carrot nose, and a red scarf.

“Arthur?” Merlin asks, his voice small. I didn’t know that could even happen, he thinks, staring, dumbfounded, at King Snowman.

I can fix this. Merlin conjures another spell, attempting to transform him back. Nothing. He tries another. Still nothing.

Damn! I wonder… is this one of those kinds of spells… Arthur wanted to do this for Gwen because he loves her so much. She had been so sad, talking about how she and Elyan always made snowmen, and Arthur had wanted to build her a snowman so she wouldn’t miss her brother so much. I think I need Gwen.

“I’ll be right back, Arthur,” Merlin says, not sure if Arthur can even here him. “Um, stay here.”

Merlin runs toward the castle, unaware that his actions were being monitored.

Morgana laughs with sadistic glee, gazing down at her snowman brother from the oben, nach oben of a nearby hill. “Snowman. Merlin, your magic never ceases to amuse me. Let’s see…” she thinks, tapping her finger on her lips.

Moments later she surveys her work, satisfied. “Yes. This should do nicely,” she nods to herself. “One last thing, though,” she says, chanting again.

“Merlin, what on earth are Du talking about?” Gwen says as Merlin pulls her out to the field where he had left Arthur.

“I screwed something up and Du need to fix it, okay. You’ll understand in… a… min… ute…” his voice trails off and his feet slow as they approach the field.

There are at least 100 snowmen standing there, like some kind of bizarre polar army.

“Merlin?”

“Morgana,” Merlin grumbles. “I took away half of her powers and she can still manage mischief.”

“Which one is Arthur?” Gwen asks, somehow having figured out what Merlin did.

“I don’t know. When I left, there was only one.”

Just then, the clouds part and the sun shines through, warm and strong. “Great,” Merlin exhales.

“So I’m correct in presuming that Du somehow turned my husband into a snowman, then?”

He nods.

“What do I need to do?”

“I’m hoping Du just have to KISS him. He wanted to come out here and build Du a snowman. To surprise you, Du know?”

“This isn’t the right kind of snow for building things,” Gwen says, as if it is an obvious fact.

“I tried telling him that, but he was so upset that he couldn’t do this for you, and… is it getting warmer?” Merlin asks, loosening his scarf.

“I think so. Is Morgana strong enough to make the sun come out?”

“Apparently so,” Merlin sighs.

“Then we’d better hurry. I need to find Arthur,” Gwen says hurrying vorwärts-, nach vorn now, looking down at the ground.

“What are Du doing?” Merlin asks, following.

“Footprints. I guess I’m tracking where Du were,” she says. Arthur would be proud of me.

“Smart,” Merlin nods. In a short time they have it narrowed to about three snowmen. All have blue button eyes, carrot noses, and red scarves.

“Which one?” Merlin asks, unwinding his scarf completely now. Gwen is pulling her gloves off.

She looks at the snowmen. “You can’t tell?” she asks, turning.

“No. They’re all magic, so, no,” he frowns.

Gwen steps to the first possible one and gently presses her hands to the sides of the snowman’s face, gazing up at it. She steps to the Weiter and repeats the action. And then the third.

“Gwen, the sun…”

“I know,” she says, stepping back to the first one. This time she puts her hand to the snowman’s chest, over where his herz would be, if he had one. Then over to the third snowman, same action.

Gwen pulls the fur-lined haube of her mantel down off her head now, and strides back to the first snowman.

“This is my husband,” she declares, and, leaning up on tiptoe, presses a KISS to the snow, angling her head to avoid the carrot protruding from its face.

She steps back and watches, holding her breath. A moment later the snow starts to quickly melt, pouring down as water, and soon a blonde head emerges, dripping wet.

And angry.

“Merlin,” Gwen says, looking back over her shoulder, “run.”

“Yes, my lady,” Merlin says, taking off like a shot, dodging through the field of melting snowmen clones. He’s gone before Arthur has completely thawed, off to hide somewhere out of reach of the king until Gwen has calmed him down.

The first word out of Arthur’s mouth when he’s fully himself again is, “Cold.” Gwen takes off her mantel and wraps it around him, over his shoulders.

“I can’t wear this,” he protests, shivering. “It’s… purple.”

“Don’t be such a baby,” Gwen says, leading him back to the castle. “You’re soaking and it’s warm and dry.”

“Going to kill Merlin,” he says crossly.

“It was an accident, Arthur,” she says, her voice calm, smooth, as if she were addressing a child.

“He turned me into a snowman.”

“I believe he was making a snowman because Du told him to. From what he told me, Du jumped in the way.”

Arthur scowls, saying nothing as she leads him inside the schloss and up to their quarters.

“The king needs a hot bath,” Gwen says to the first servant she sees.

“Yes, my lady,” the servant Antwort and hurries away.

“Why are Du taking his side?” Arthur asks once they are in the privacy of their rooms, letting Gwen peel his wet things from his Frozen body.

“Because Du were abusing Merlin’s abilities for your own indulgence,” Gwen says, Küssen him.

“I was… using the tools available to me to make a surprise for my beautiful wife,” he protests, letting Gwen wickeln, wickeln sie him in a blanket.

“And I appreciate the thought, Arthur, really, I do. I Liebe that Du were trying to build a snowman for me so I wouldn’t miss my brother. But I don’t think Merlin is entirely at fault here.”

There is a knock at the door and the servants are bid enter with the bathtub and lots of hot water.

“Thank you,” Gwen tells them once the bath is ready. “I will attend him; Du may go.”

“Yes, my lady,” the servant answers. They look slightly puzzled at the cold, wet king, but they say nothing, exiting quickly.

“I’m glad Du sent them away,” Arthur says, stepping into his tub, sinking down to his ears. “Care to Mitmachen me?” he asks, a sly look on his face. He reaches for her hand and pulls it to his lips, trailing wet kisses up her arm.

“Not this time,” she says, “just sit there and get warm.”

“Okay,” he pouts. She leans over and kisses his lips, still cold but warming, and his hand comes out of the water again, reaching up behind her neck, trying to coax her into the tub with him using his kisses.

“I’m warmer now,” he mutters against her lips, and she giggles.

There is another soft knock on the door, and Gwen stands with a sigh. “One moment,” she calls, looking down now to see that the shoulder of her dress is now wet from Arthur’s arm.

“Yes?” she opens the door. The servant’s eyes flit to her wet shoulder for just a moment.

“Shall I bring lunch, my lady?”

“In a little while, yes. Something warm. The king has gotten a chill and needs good, hot food.”

“Yes, my lady,” the servant nods to her.

Gwen is about to close the door when Arthur’s voice comes booming from behind her.

“No carrots!”

Fic 11: link