Fics like gentle as an early spring breeze

“Can you imagine what it would’ve been like?” asks Merlin. “If you weren’t a king, and I wasn’t—“ he gesticulates, trailing off. “An all-powerful warlock? A dragonlord?” Arthur supplies gleefully. “An immortal deity worshipped by the Druids?” Merlin cracks an eye open to glare pointedly at him. Arthur hides his smile, albeit not entirely successfully. “We’d run, wouldn’t we,” he sighs, shifting to get into a more comfortable position. “Me with my farm,” he murmurs, suddenly finding himself rather melancholy. “You, with your house upon the lake.” Merlin snorts a quiet laugh. “I doubt you’d know the first thing about tending to a farm.” “Perhaps not,” Arthur agrees. He looks up to where Merlin is leaning back against the tree, his eyes closed once more in contentment. “Perhaps you’d be able to show me.” Merlin and Arthur share a quiet afternoon away from the castle.

Fics like gentle as an early spring breeze

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