literature

The soldier from Barley part 7

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Literature Text

The two where quiet for a while, Merlin looked around his room more than a hundred times, waiting for Gwaine to answer him.

Gwaine gulped thickly and looked away, looking at a burning candle next to his bed, he watched as it blew, he followed the invisible wind to see a familiar eyes watching them in the crack of the door.

"Merlin..." He said with sadness.

"Did he do something to you to make you mad at him?" Merlin asked gently.

"You're not angry..." Gwaine noticed.

"I trust you, what ever you do there has to be a reason..." Merlin replied.

Gwaine smiled and slowly sat up.

"You know..." He grit out and placed his hand on Merlin's shoulder.

"You're quiet understanding..."

"Nah..." Merlin shook his head.

Gwaine lay back down.

"It's true..."

"Doesn't mean i will believe it..." Merlin teased, the two laughed and there was soon a quiet pause.

"Why did you do it?"

"I can't tell you..." Gwaine sighed.

Morgana smiled from outside the door.

"Why not?"

"You'll be endanger..."

"What does that have to do with anything...?" He chuckled.

"You will be, i won't risk it..."

Merlin was surprised.

"Is this because of what happened at the woods?"

Gwaine nodded.

"Don't worry...just don't spill the secret..."

"That's just the thing Merlin..." Gwaine sighed and looked at him with worry.

"What do you mean?" Merlin frowned.

Gwaine took a deep breath as he saw as the door creaked open, slowly he gripped his sword from the bottom of the bed, he had to say it.

"It's you...you'r the one whose going to get stabbed..."

And the two knew no more.
Gwaine spills the secret to Merlin and it only gets worse.
© 2012 - 2024 merlinlover
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doctorwholover465's avatar
*gasps* NUUUUUUU :nuu: GWAINE U IDIOT!!!!!! :iconmoarplz::iconmoarplz::iconmoarplz::iconmoarplz::iconmoarplz::iconmoarplz::iconmoarplz::iconmoarplz::iconmoarplz::iconmoarplz::iconmoarplz::iconmoarplz::iconmoarplz::iconmoarplz::iconmoarplz::iconmoarplz::iconmoarplz::iconmoarplz::iconmoarplz::iconmoarplz::iconmoarplz::iconmoarplz::iconmoarplz::iconmoarplz::iconmoarplz::iconmoarplz::iconmoarplz::iconmoarplz::iconmoarplz::iconmoarplz::iconmoarplz::iconmoarplz::iconmoarplz::iconmoarplz::iconmoarplz::iconmoarplz::iconmoarplz::iconmoarplz::iconmoarplz::iconmoarplz::iconmoarplz::iconmoarplz::iconmoarplz::iconmoarplz::iconmoarplz::iconmoarplz::iconmoarplz::iconmoarplz::iconmoarplz::iconmoarplz::iconmoarplz::iconmoarplz::iconmoarplz::iconmoarplz::iconmoarplz::iconmoarplz::iconmoarplz::iconmoarplz::iconmoarplz::iconmoarplz::iconmoarplz::iconmoarplz::iconmoarplz::iconmoarplz::iconmoarplz::iconmoarplz::iconmoarplz::iconmoarplz::iconmoarplz::iconmoarplz::iconmoarplz::iconmoarplz::iconmoarplz::iconmoarplz::iconmoarplz::iconmoarplz::iconmoarplz: