A little one shot. I, sadly, don't own Merlin. Ho hum.

So That Was That

So that was that, Merlin had finally done it, he'd told someone of his magic and now he waited for their reaction. Would they run away? Would they scream and be appalled? Would they try to have him executed? Or would they accept him as he was. He kept his back turned and waited...

Merlin hadn't planned it in advance. In fact he'd actually only made the decision to tell Gwaine half way through the evening. Well, if the truth be known, he'd decided about the time he'd finished his second glass of ale (and Gwaine's seventh glass). It had seemed like such a good idea. Since Lancelot was no longer there (Merlin still found it very hard to say the word "dead") he'd had no-one to talk to about magic.

Of course there was Gaius and yes he was very wise and knowledgeable. But much as Merlin loved him, he was so very serious about the whole thing. Merlin understood this and of course respected his opinion. But sometimes, just sometimes, Merlin wanted to be young about his magic. He wanted to revel in it, to enjoy it. Yes, he knew all about his destiny and the heavy burden he was supposed to carry but for goodness sake he was only young. Didn't he deserve to be devil-may-care occasionally? Didn't he have the right to sometimes behave in an inappropriate manner and be, well there was no other word for it, silly?

And of course he remembered how conjuring the smoke dragon in the air had almost led to Gaius's death and his discovery. But he'd learnt a lot since then; he'd not make that mistake again. He'd be so careful. But he needed to let his magic fly sometimes, to play and to frolic. Merlin could almost hear Arthur's laughter at the use of such a girlie word, but sometimes a word just fitted and that one did. His magic, even though it was very powerful, was also young like him and (here Merlin had to really try not to throw up over the image) almost like a puppy and needed to, yes dammit, needed to frolic!

Afterall, how on earth was he expected to cope with all the traumas, life threatening situations and crises if he did not have a chance to let off steam and just be free once in a while?

And, thought Merlin, who better to do this with than Gwaine? In fact Merlin thought that maybe Gwaine had an inkling of his secret already, so it wasn't too much of a stretch to actually just confirm this was it? Gwaine was fun, exciting and, most importantly of all, his friend. If Gwaine did not accept him then it was almost certain no-one else would either. And Merlin so wanted, no, needed, someone to share it all with. Someone who would find the lighter side, enjoy the excitement and the possibilities of having a friend with magic. No angst, no heavy foreboding and absolutely no portentous warnings of peril and dark futures. Merlin was desperate for some fun.

But he wasn't stupid, he knew it was a big risk, but this was Gwaine; he'd be okay with it, wouldn't he?

And so he'd gathered his courage up and spoke the words he'd so often practiced "I have magic. I was born with it. I am not evil, crazy or about to take over Camelot, I promise you. My destiny is to protect Arthur. But you are my friend and I needed to tell you this."

And then he waited. And waited. And waited.

Unable to bear the suspense any longer; expecting any moment that Gwaine would react in some larger than life fashion (either by bursting into laughter and hugging him or by running him through with his sword) Merlin finally turned back to the knight.

Only to see Gwaine face down in the remains of the pie he'd bought for supper, completely out for the count. He'd patently not heard a word.

And Merlin did not know whether to feel relieved or dismayed. But he did take it as a lesson; if he ever did decide to tell anyone about his magic again, it would be better to do so before they entered the tavern.

XXX

Hope you enjoyed it, not as "angsty" as usual but the trauma bunny had taken the evening off...