Merthur oneshots

Wake up sleepyhead!

Merlin is a morning person, Arthur is a night owl!
I will die on this hill!

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It was no secret that the king had his fair share of troubles, but what most did not know was that his troubles start at six in the morning when his awfully cheerful servant would open the curtains.

There weren't many well kept secrets in this kingdom, no no, the people knew that the king was in love with his best friend and that the feelings were reciprocated, the people knew that said servant has magical talents, they knew of Gwaine's avid love for apple pie, Leon's motherly tendencies, Lancelot's love for Gwen (also well reciprocated), and so on and so forth. (Where was I?) And just like these widespread truths the idea that Merlin was a morning person was well known.

The servants in the corridors would hear him whistling a peppy tune at the first light of day and he would look like a fresh picked daisy with a skip in his step to match. So his cheerful face in the morning was no foreign sight to the people of Camelot.

Now the king on the other hand has less enthusiasm for the glories of morning activities. His servant would enter and the curtains would open, much to his disdain, and he would squint and squish his face up hoping to block out the impending day. Though his efforts went unsuccessful as the day always came and his face looked like the back end of a cat, clearly the day had claimed another victim.

But a different story is to be told of the night. The rising of the moon switching the roles of the two inseparable counterparts.

The night brought a sleepy eye to the servant his head growing heavy as he tried to finish his arduous chores. The pep in his step replaced by the heavy thud of his boots.

While his best friend's shoulders slump and his words get drawn into long lasting yawns, the king springs to life, speeches, poems, stratagems, and laws flow freely from his sharp mind, his kingly duties seem to do themselves as he easily crafts the documents necessary to run the kingdom.

But every day a repeat of the same routine wears down their disdain for the time of day that grieves them most. The king, though he dislikes the morning, grows to love the face he greets each day and the tune of his servant's whistle sticks in his mind.

The warlock's mind clouds when the sun sets below the horizon but the candle light on the king's table grows more inviting, and the chores seem more bearable with the scratch of the pen and the mumble of official business as the background.

They may not like certain times of day but they certainly like each other, and that's got to count for something. Because when the sun shines too bright a lovely face is there to block it, and when the world gets too dark there is always a fire to be lit in the day's absence.

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Why so poetic? Idk man the universe just tells me and I write it down. I hope you enjoyed reading this one, don't forget to comment any other ideas you may have for other fics. And as always have a great day/night! Love you so so so much my lovelies!!💚