[ A thin smile tries to wriggle its way onto his lips, it really does, but Merlin gives up after a few moments of trying and moves to lean against the door. Gwen's kind words and sweet voice are already easing down his defenses (of which there are now, out of necessity, too many than is entirely healthy), but even beneath the dark cloud hovering over him he has enough common sense to keep the majority of them in tact. ]
Yes, of cour—
[ But he's answering his rehearsed answers all over again, isn't he? When he came to Gwen to speak from the heart. He's grown so used to glossing over, brushing off, weaving thin white lies to protect those he loves from the true nature of what he is, and he's long since accepted that his seemingly dim-witted nonchalance has become an increasingly large part of who people believe him to be.
That, he muses, is the hardest part of it all. ]
... I'm sorry for troubling you, my Lady, but I. Well. [ He manages to smile this time, although it's wry and weary. ] Sometimes Arthur's 'other half' is better to talk to than Arthur himself.
Most of the time, in fact.
[ Arthur may be his destiny, and he may be a great king, but no-one who knows him could possibly deny that he can be as thick as pigswill when he wants to be. As oblivious as it, too. Gwen, being his other half, is far more likely to handle what he has to say with at a modicum of tact. ]
I'm just so ...
[ And he pauses, searching for the right word. It comes to him on a broken sigh, and he lifts a palm to cover his eyes. ]
Tired, Gwen. And I don't ... I don't know if I can do this any more. I've been thinking about heading back to Ealdor for good.
/weeps into Gwen's bosom.
[ A thin smile tries to wriggle its way onto his lips, it really does, but Merlin gives up after a few moments of trying and moves to lean against the door. Gwen's kind words and sweet voice are already easing down his defenses (of which there are now, out of necessity, too many than is entirely healthy), but even beneath the dark cloud hovering over him he has enough common sense to keep the majority of them in tact. ]
Yes, of cour—
[ But he's answering his rehearsed answers all over again, isn't he? When he came to Gwen to speak from the heart. He's grown so used to glossing over, brushing off, weaving thin white lies to protect those he loves from the true nature of what he is, and he's long since accepted that his seemingly dim-witted nonchalance has become an increasingly large part of who people believe him to be.
That, he muses, is the hardest part of it all. ]
... I'm sorry for troubling you, my Lady, but I. Well. [ He manages to smile this time, although it's wry and weary. ] Sometimes Arthur's 'other half' is better to talk to than Arthur himself.
Most of the time, in fact.
[ Arthur may be his destiny, and he may be a great king, but no-one who knows him could possibly deny that he can be as thick as pigswill when he wants to be. As oblivious as it, too. Gwen, being his other half, is far more likely to handle what he has to say with at a modicum of tact. ]
I'm just so ...
[ And he pauses, searching for the right word. It comes to him on a broken sigh, and he lifts a palm to cover his eyes. ]
Tired, Gwen. And I don't ... I don't know if I can do this any more. I've been thinking about heading back to Ealdor for good.