Behind The Laughter
This is my first Merlin fan fiction. I needed a break from my Hobbit story this evening so I thought I'd see what I could come up with for Merlin.
This is based entirely on my own take of one of the characters in the show. I did no background research for this (except watching a couple Merlin episodes, of course!).
Warnings: This is pretty depressing. Rated T just to be safe.
Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin or its characters.
Enjoy!
He hid behind his own laughter.
If someone had asked him when he began to be such a fool, such a jester, he would say he'd always been that way. That was a lie.
Yes, he'd always had a lighthearted personality. That was just who he was. But something had changed.
Now jokes were his swords. His laughter was his shield; more than that, it was his fortress. He built his walls high and kept them there.
Everyone thought that he was just naturally a clown.
Drinking was another defense. If the walls of his false gaiety threatened to fall, he could simply drink the fears away. He was always a cheerful drunk; it was better that way. With enough drink inside, he didn't feel the endless pain so much.
Everyone thought that he just liked his ale.
His rather inappropriate humor had always been a part of him. But he'd never brought it to extremes. Not until he had to hide himself.
Lying about his past was easy. Terrifyingly easy. So was twisting difficult questions back upon the questioner. And joking, laughing defiantly in the face of death; that was easy too.
Usually.
Everyone thought he just disguised his fear with jokes.
He wasn't afraid of death, not like the others were. He wanted it. He wanted to die. Every time he charged into combat, he hoped for an arrow or spear or sword to finish him off.
But he was a coward. A stubborn fool. For in every situation, he trusted his instincts of self-preservation. He fought his best.
And his best was too good to get him killed. Either that or he had someone else to protect.
Innocents would not die on his watch. But if it was just his own life on the line, he didn't care.
Unfortunately, that didn't seem to happen often anymore.
More than once he'd walked into something he didn't expect to get out of. But he did, every time.
Like the near-execution. When he had looked into Uther Pendragon's cold, calculating eyes and heard his own death sentence, he felt nothing but hatred. And anger. Not fear.
But when he was merely banished…
He felt relief.
And he hated himself for it.
He did not deserve to live. He knew that. No one else did, except perhaps the ones he left behind.
He almost broke, once; over two long rows of black military boots, while sitting next to the first person who he'd dared to befriend in years.
Merlin was certainly the nicest person he'd ever met. The first one who might have listened.
But he wasn't telling.
His vagabond days were past. He now had duties, loyalties. Quests to embark on, feats of bravery and skill to perform. Friends to talk to.
But Sir Gwaine still hid behind his own laughter.
I hope that was okay! Gwaine is one of my favorite characters in Merlin.
Don't get me wrong; I love the his comic relief. This is just an idea of what it might be like for him if his behavior was just a cover.
Feel free to review! Constructive criticism is welcome; but no flaming please.