"The Chains That Bind Us – Secrets, Deadly and Otherwise"
"Tis – hic – 'tis the chains that bind us," said Gwaine haphazardly in a tragic tone of voice, his ale sloshing dangerously in its tankard.
"How's that?" mumbled Merlin, who could barely keep his eyes open.
"Secrets. Secret identities – they shroud our lives…like a storm cloud…on a stormy day…" Gwaine seemed to have lost his eloquent thread.
"What?"
"Y'know. You've got you destiny and all that – hic – and I've got my noble father and bloodlines…" Gwiane sighed dramatically, though the dramatic effect was a bit diminished as he jerked unexpectedly, almost falling out of his seat. "Always having to hide. Keep a terrible secret. It's – hic – the chains – hic – it's metaphorical."
Merlin squinted at Gwaine, unsure if he'd heard correctly. "How exactly is your having noble blood comparable to my having magic?"
Gwaine turned to give Merlin an affronted look, marred only by the slow drift of his eyes as they struggled to focus on Merlin's face. "Well of course you'd say that."
"But," pressed Merlin, leaning forward slightly. "How can that secret be bad? I mean, if anyone ever found out, then you'd only be more officially a knight, not less."
Gwaine shook his head stubbornly, taking a swig and muttering almost incomprehensibly. "Importance…s'all a matter of perspective."
Merlin just shook his head in a bemused way. After all, if there was anywhere a good place to argue with Gwaine at, the tavern certainly wasn't it.