[Merlin balks visibly. Because it's one thing, right, to cheerfully ask others about their magic, and learn and accept and revel in the fact that people are speaking so freely. It's another thing entirely to say what he can do.
All his life he's kept it to himself. And what if Arthur comes here as well; what if he finds out? But--
All right. So quite a few people seem to recognize his name, and associate him with magic. Which means that eventually, it all goes right-- eventually, he succeeds, Arthur knows what he is and accepts him for it, everyone gets a happy ending. So . . . so none of that could happen, right, if by telling people what he is here, he gives himself away and damns his relationship with Arthur permanently. Right?
Maybe. Yes? He's not sure, but--]
A lot of things.
[--he says it impulsively, a little breathless, and then offers a grin.]
Not strength. Sometimes speed, in a way. Fire. Water. Lots of elemental spells, actually-- moving items without touching them. Occasional telepathy. Lots of commands, really, that's a good way to think of it-- I command things using the right words and it usually works.
[And . . . that's it. There's no shout, no desperate cry of terror; no one grabs his arms and drags him to the pyre. Merlin glances around, just to check-- and then laughs, giddy on the fact that he's in place where he can say such things.]
no subject
[Merlin balks visibly. Because it's one thing, right, to cheerfully ask others about their magic, and learn and accept and revel in the fact that people are speaking so freely. It's another thing entirely to say what he can do.
All his life he's kept it to himself. And what if Arthur comes here as well; what if he finds out? But--
All right. So quite a few people seem to recognize his name, and associate him with magic. Which means that eventually, it all goes right-- eventually, he succeeds, Arthur knows what he is and accepts him for it, everyone gets a happy ending. So . . . so none of that could happen, right, if by telling people what he is here, he gives himself away and damns his relationship with Arthur permanently. Right?
Maybe. Yes? He's not sure, but--]
A lot of things.
[--he says it impulsively, a little breathless, and then offers a grin.]
Not strength. Sometimes speed, in a way. Fire. Water. Lots of elemental spells, actually-- moving items without touching them. Occasional telepathy. Lots of commands, really, that's a good way to think of it-- I command things using the right words and it usually works.
[And . . . that's it. There's no shout, no desperate cry of terror; no one grabs his arms and drags him to the pyre. Merlin glances around, just to check-- and then laughs, giddy on the fact that he's in place where he can say such things.]