Suspicion
A feeling that something is not what it seems, or that someone might be hiding something.


"I still say that was magic," Gwaine announced as he stepped into the armoury, his leather belt thrown carelessly over his shoulder. He sighed as he plopped down on the wooden bench where Percival was seated, placing his elbows atop his knees and resting his head in his hands. "No wind I know of could possibly bring down a branch that large."

Percival gazed up from the sword in his hands, cocking his head to the side. "What sorcerer would want to save the King?" He pushed himself to his feet, leaning the weapon against its stand.

The two were interrupted asMerlin stumbled into the room with a wide grin plastered across his face. "Arthur's calling you to the Round Table. Just thought I'd let you know before he got around."

"Determined to beat him then?" Gwaine asked, taking in Merlin's smug expression.

"No, just convince him his knights are psychic," the servant responded cast a quick glance around the armoury. "Tell Elyan and Leon if you see them."

The younger man turned on his heel and took off down the corridor, Gwaine's eyes following his movements. The knight sighed as he remembered his friend's brilliant blue eyes, flaring with the molten gold of magic, and he was no longer able to silence the tickle in the back of his mind. He couldn't pass it off as a glint from the sun; his friend had magic, and he was keeping it a secret, living his life in limbo.

With a huff, he turned to face Percival. "I still think it's magic."

"And for a while I thought you were interested in blokes instead of birds," the knight shot back, chuckling lowly. "But, I guess we both can be wrong."

"So you think."