There maaaaaay be a happier one in the future? Sometime? Maybe?
This twisted game we play
Every single day, Arthur and Merlin insulted each other.
"Would you like me to drill another hole in your belt, sire?"
"Merlin, do you even know which way is up?"
It was sort of like a game of tag - except they were standing right next to each other, and the words went back and forth as though they'd been shot from a bow.
"You have the brains of a donkey and the face of a toad."
"At least I have brains, Arthur."
But it was also more than a game.
They poked and prodded at each other like farmers inspecting horses. They watched like owls from the trees. They tested the waters and occasionally got burnt.
"Condescending, supercilious, patronizing."
"Merlin, do you even know what those words mean?"
"They mean you, Arthur."
They insulted and dug and gibbed and needled at each other until they were exhausted, but at the end of the day, they were never quite sure if they were actually friends. Both of them hated it and at the same time couldn't let it go because that was just the dynamic of their relationship.
It was a twisted game to play.