Summary: He’d always liked the look of freshly fallen snow.
Word Count: 211
Prompt: 37 Snow
Author's Notes: Not too sure about this. I wanted to write fluff. Gah!
He’d always liked the look of freshly fallen snow. It never lasted long, servants would walk through it, wooden cart wheels would mix it into a muddy slush, and the knights would disturb it during practice. However, before any of that occurred, it was easy to feel at peace in Camelot, to forget for just a moment that they were on the verge of war. Snow had a kind of magic that made it feel as though time stood still, as though the castle was the safe haven Arthur wanted all of Camelot to be.
Merlin tried hard to believe they were safe, that the snow wasn’t a symbol of the quiet before the storm, but he couldn’t delude himself any longer. The snow was starting to be kicked up as the people in the castle began to go about their business and servants started their chores. He knew he too would soon be called upon to begin work and would undoubtedly help turn the snow from a pure white blanket to a muddy mess.
With a last glance out the window at the fresh whiteness, Merlin hurried to the king’s chambers, hoping he could help Arthur keep Camelot from ever becoming as impure as the muck now sullying the courtyard.