Strength and Magic

Summary: "Now might be a good time to use some of that magic, mate." "Wh-What?!" Gwaine suspected Merlin had magic from the moment they met (flying plates? He wasn't that drunk!) and then knew for certain when the midget bridge guardian called Gwaine "Strength" and Merlin "Magic." Honestly, Gwaine wondered how no one else could see it!

Rating: K, just a quirky one-shot :)

Disclaimer: Alas, I lost the documents claiming I owned Merlin.

"Now might be a good time to use some of that magic, mate," Gwaine whispered, leaning toward Merlin.

Merlin balked, turning to the knight so fast that he nearly gave himself whiplash. "Wh-What?!" he hissed, shooting a furtive look to the sleepy guard not far from them.

Gwaine looked back at him innocently. "Well, you want to escape don't you? Listen, you get us out and the first round's on me."

"I-I don't have magic," Merlin stuttered, obviously lying.

Gwaine sighed dramatically and leaned his head back against the tree. "That's a shame. Suppose we'll be sold to some noble. And most nobles don't much appreciate their slaves breaking into their mead stores, I'll tell you that now, my friend." He shifted, giving the ropes that bound him to the tree yet another experimental tug.

The two had been out on a patrol with Arthur and the other knights, looking for a group of bandits that had been raiding the area recently. It seemed the bandits had moved on, and they followed the trail until they lost it. From there they had decided to split up and look for clues, and Gwaine had immediately ran off with Merlin. Unfortunately for them, the trail they'd found hadn't been the bandits they were looking for. It was slave traders, who made quick work of them.

That had been yesterday. It was currently the next night, and Gwaine and Merlin were quickly losing hope of the others finding them. The slavers could move fast, and knew how to cover their tracks. Went with the trade, Merlin had commented dryly.

"Perhaps if you'd spent less time drinking and more time escaping," Merlin retorted, desperate to change the subject of his magic.

Gwaine gave his warlock friend a sly look. "I may be strength, but I'm not Percival, mate. You've got to help me out here."

"Huh?"

"The wee man at the bridge," Gwaine said. "When we went to help Arthur on his Fisher King quest, yeah? He turned my sword into a flower. I'm glad it changed back into a sword once we crossed the bridge. Not sure how much damage a few petals would do against a wyvern. Perhaps wyverns are allergic to flowers?"

Merlin stared at him for a long moment. "You...you didn't really believe him, did you?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"I don't have magic."

"Ah, I see. Then who made those plates fly?"

"Huh?"

Gwaine laughed, but hushed when the nearby guard snorted in his sleep and shifted into a more comfortable position. Once he was stilled, the knight grinned at Merlin. "When we first met in that bar fight. I saw you throwing the plates - without your hands, of course. So I went over to introduce myself."

Merlin flushed at the memory. "I don't know what you're talking about. I threw those plates, yes, but not with...magic." Merlin trailed off when Gwaine appeared to have lost interest in the conversation. He wore a serious expression.

"I understand, Merlin," he said somberly. "If I had magic I'd lie, too. But you can trust me, mate. I swear it." Gwaine shot him a charming smile.

Merlin stared intensely into Gwaine's eyes, as though judging his sincerity. Gwaine didn't even blink when Merlin's eyes flashed gold and the ropes snapped. Gwaine broke out in a broad grin, which Merlin sheepishly returned.

"Let's get the hell out of here, eh?"

Merlin nodded in agreement, and the two of them stole into the woods unnoticed. It would be a long trek back the way they came to the last camp the knights had made. From there they'd have to find the others, or return to Camelot. Gwaine needed a drink, anyway.

A/N: Thanks for reading! ^-^