Faith. Trust. Before. Not unexpected. If Merlin said the same thing, so openly, Arthur was bound to be of the same general opinion.
It's hard to try to reconcile. Impossible, to think of the woman he's been imprisoned by- nothing but contempt and venom, shredding a kingdom in her bid to have it for herself and still furious with what parts won't have her. One who clearly has no plans on letting the three of them survive, but who makes them go to their demise instead of delivering it. Lets them linger to whoever happens to be the last man.
And then finds entertainment in it.
Gwaine isn't above anger. Never has been. He doesn't imagine that will ever change, and it hasn't in this. He wishes it were only for Gaius and Elyan's sake, but the truth is that it's selfish as well. Being useless in changing what's happened. Knowing what's inevitable if enough time passes without intervention, and not wanting to watch them suffer it. For wrongs done to him, for Camelot, everything and everyone that she's probably torn down trying to find Arthur, who Merlin could only be alongside- for what she would do if she did find them. For everything she's done.
Hasn't done, here.
Hypocritical to be angry with her here for being who she is, if he thinks that way. If he chooses to believe she's been truthful about what she knows.
It really comes down to trusting what Merlin and Arthur believe, and he's known since Merlin said "hear me out" that he was going to be putting faith into something he'd rather not have to. What they've said, they genuinely have faith in. What they claim to trust, they trust earnestly and clearly. And Gwaine trusts them above anybody else.
The end of Arthur's speech, he supposes, is where he ought to stand at the proverbial table all over again. Say something- well, something noble. "I've followed you in much more dangerous circumstances and I'll follow you now." "I'll trust you as you trust me, even if I can't extend it past and to her." "I wouldn't ask to be spared the hardship, my liege."
But really, when has he ever done? ]
I'm probably a fool for doing it, but I will keep my word. [ And that's a promise in itself. ] Only you severely underestimate just how much use I can put that sword to. It's very good against rogue chairs as well.
but if you're sorry how can I be sorry w o w rude
Faith. Trust. Before. Not unexpected. If Merlin said the same thing, so openly, Arthur was bound to be of the same general opinion.
It's hard to try to reconcile. Impossible, to think of the woman he's been imprisoned by- nothing but contempt and venom, shredding a kingdom in her bid to have it for herself and still furious with what parts won't have her. One who clearly has no plans on letting the three of them survive, but who makes them go to their demise instead of delivering it. Lets them linger to whoever happens to be the last man.
And then finds entertainment in it.
Gwaine isn't above anger. Never has been. He doesn't imagine that will ever change, and it hasn't in this. He wishes it were only for Gaius and Elyan's sake, but the truth is that it's selfish as well. Being useless in changing what's happened. Knowing what's inevitable if enough time passes without intervention, and not wanting to watch them suffer it. For wrongs done to him, for Camelot, everything and everyone that she's probably torn down trying to find Arthur, who Merlin could only be alongside- for what she would do if she did find them. For everything she's done.
Hasn't done, here.
Hypocritical to be angry with her here for being who she is, if he thinks that way. If he chooses to believe she's been truthful about what she knows.
It really comes down to trusting what Merlin and Arthur believe, and he's known since Merlin said "hear me out" that he was going to be putting faith into something he'd rather not have to. What they've said, they genuinely have faith in. What they claim to trust, they trust earnestly and clearly. And Gwaine trusts them above anybody else.
The end of Arthur's speech, he supposes, is where he ought to stand at the proverbial table all over again. Say something- well, something noble. "I've followed you in much more dangerous circumstances and I'll follow you now." "I'll trust you as you trust me, even if I can't extend it past and to her." "I wouldn't ask to be spared the hardship, my liege."
But really, when has he ever done? ]
I'm probably a fool for doing it, but I will keep my word. [ And that's a promise in itself. ] Only you severely underestimate just how much use I can put that sword to. It's very good against rogue chairs as well.