I don't own Merlin.

/

Gwaine finally exits, after a few deep breaths and maybe a prayer, to see Merlin leaning against Guingalet. The monster is standing placidly for once, letting Merlin stroke the huge, muscled neck. His ears prick up at the sight of Gwaine, then flick around, reminding him that he's not the master and commander in chief. His life is in the hands of a bad tempered horse and a servant who just so happens to have magical powers.

This is oddly reassuring.

Merlin looks up, and Gwaine sees the red rims of his eyes.

"Be careful."

Gwaine grins. It feels forced.