This is just a bit of randomness that came to at about 11 o'clock at night. I hope you enjoy it. And for my "In Which Nothing Happens" readers, I promise to put up the next chapter by Monday pleasedontkillme.
Disclaimer: Merlin belongs to BBC. Please don't sue me!
Molds
There are many molds in this world, and although no one actually fits into any single one, everyone feels that everyone else ought to fit quite perfectly into the mold in which we put them.
Merlin had a mold. He did, in fact, have two-one which he was fit into by those who knew about his magic, and the one that those who didn't placed him in. But Arthur, he only had one mold.
Merlin could be enigmatic, Arthur was brash and unsubtle. Merlin was the brain, and Arthur was the brawn. Even Arthur knew that (thought he'd never admit it, even to himself)
Merlin was, in fact, just the sort of person that those who knew him well might peg to turn out to be somebody other than he was. He slipped in his façade too many times, too many hints of hidden depths for anyone to take him at face value. But Arthur was just…Arthur. He already had his hidden depths, he already was somebody. And anyone (who has read the right kind of books) can tell you that nobody is far more likely to turn out to be somebody than somebody who is already somebody.
That is why, on that fateful day, though there were two surprises, one was far more surprising than the other.
"You have magic?"
"You have magic?"
"I asked you first"
"You have magic"
"Is that really all your tiny brain can figure out how to say? Yes, I. Have. Magic. That's what they call it when you whisper these funny words and your eyes light up like this. Now answer my question."
"But-but- but you're Arthur. You're not supposed to have magic. You're supposed to be the one bitching about me having magic."
"Merlin. I do not bitch."
"Of course you don't."
"Of course you don't Sire"
"Prat"
"Idiot"
Yes, people don't always fit into the molds you put them in. Of course, there are still some things that never change….