Work Text:
A Warlock’s Wish Gag Reel
Scene Marker: The böggel-mann disrupts the third test of the Apprentice Exam
The non-illusion swiftly reaches an arm over one shoulder and unveils a familiar-looking cloak from seemingly out of nowhere.
Merlin’s stomach twists because the cloak is made from the darkest black he has ever laid his eyes upon — a hue that has become more and more familiar during the third test.
Silence deafens the whole training grounds as the non-illusion shrouds itself and its features in the smothering shadows of the cloak’s hood.
Balinor’s eyes widen, a look of pure stupor settling over his slack face. Everyone else seems to be in similar condition, bodies paralyzed with either fright or shock.
Then, the Court Sorcerer’s features turn as dark as night, and a word filled with unadulterated contempt falls from his sneering lips. “Wracu.”
“Wrong.” The cloaked figure snorts before pulling down its hood.
The shadows around its face retreat, revealing luscious shoulder-length hair and a handsome stubbled face. The man runs a hand over his gleaming brown locks before sending a wicked smirk at the camera CameraMan#4 is manning.
“Gwaine!?” Merlin stares, gobsmacked, at the revealed identity of the böggel-mann.
“What the — CUT!” the Director screams.
Half of the staff murmurs complaints. The other half snickers and exchanges money.
Balinor sighs and rubs his face. “A good take ruined.”
“Wait, was Gwaine supposed to be in this scene?” Prince Arthur asks, holding his bow aloft, looking utterly confused.
CameraMan#4 sends a wink back to Gwaine.
The Director bolts out of their seat and marches toward the grinning interloper, fuming. “Fricking — Gwaine! Where the hell is Wracu?”
“Locked him in his trailer,” Gwaine confesses with an angelic smile, unperturbed by the storm brewing in the Director’s face.
“You locked — What the hell! Someone, get Wracu out!” The Director points at a random crew member. Crewmember#5 dash toward the actor’s trailer like hellhounds are upon her.
“Are you my Gwaine or this other world’s Gwaine?” Merlin asks, curious.
“Merlin babe, I’ll always be your Gwaine ~,” Gwaine singsongs before giving Merlin an absolutely salacious wink.
Merlin crosses his arms, fake blood staining his hands and clothes. He looks utterly unimpressed. “I guess that answers my question.”
The Director twists Gwaine’s ear, annoyed.
“Ow-wow-ow-ow,” Gwaine whines, being forced to bend down. “Director, it was a dare. I’m so sorry. I am regretting my actions. I shall never do it again, please. It’s Crewmember#9’s fault! She dared me!”
Behind the Director, someone squeaks. The Director proceeds to drag Gwaine out of the set through his ears. Everyone watches and no one interferes.
Legend has it that to differentiate between two Gwaines, one only has to look for a reddened right ear.
Scene Marker: The Spymaster and the Court Sorcerer discuss the apprentices’ backgrounds in the forest
Balinor snatches the said flask away before a drop can touch the Spymaster’s lips, exasperation hinting at his countenance. “Can you stop drinking while you’re on duty?”
“Nah,” the Spymaster says, stealing his flask back with quick nimble fingers. “Helps me think.” And then Levi bursts into uncontrollable sobs. “And I’m gonna die anyway!”
Balinor takes a step back, eyes wide. “You are?” This line isn’t in the script.
“Yeah! It’s written in the rotten ending!” Levi wipes at his cheeks but more tears stream down his face. “Such a tragedy. I was such a good character.”
“CUT!” the Director screams.
Balinor sighs in relief and lets the screenwriters and the Director approach the weeping Levi.
“You aren’t going to die,” Screenwriter#2 says, frowning. “Well, the ending is still unwritten, but we have no plans to kill you off. For now.”
“Oh yeah?” Levi produces a script from inside of his costume’s pockets. “Look at this! Look!”
Screenwriter#2 begins to look as stated but Levi snatches the document and starts reading it aloud.
“LEVI gets between the arrow and LOKSNI. Hit in the center of the chest. Blood splatters on the ground. Falls into LOKSNI’s arms. See here! I died in my beloved’s arms! This is homophobia, I tell you! Acephobia even! Imma sue your arses!”
“Levi, calm down,” the Director says before adopting a pondering look.
Screenwriter#1 steals the papers from Levi’s trembling hands. He rereads the scene and frowns heavily. “We didn’t write this. Where did you get this script?”
Levi abruptly stops yelling. He blinks rapidly, making more tears fall from his glistening eyes. “Wracu gave it to me.” A realization alights his features. “That bastard!”
Levi marches out of the set, furious eyes searching for his unfortunate target.
“Hey, we’re still filming!” the Director calls out but it’s too late. They sigh. “All right. Take five and let Levi cool off.”
In Wracu’s trailer
Wracu, holding a NERF gun, lounges on a sofa. “It’s not a fake script. It should be the real one. People are too happy-go-lucky in this story. There should be drama — death and heroics. Else, this whole thing is going to get boring real quick.”
Merlin, who has been stealing Wracu’s supply of coffee all throughout filming, sits cross-legged on the floor. He blows onto the piping hot mug of coffee in his hands before coughing out an “Edgelord.”
Wracu shoots him with a NERF gun. The foam bullet hits Merlin between the eyes and plops right into his coffee. Merlin yells in indignation, his cup now unsalvageable.
“I prefer the term ‘Emo’,” Wracu informs him.
“Wracu!!!” Levi’s muffled shout pierces through the trailer.
“Uh-oh. Someone’s in trouble.” Merlin smirks before dashing towards the coffeemaker to make himself another cup.
Levi slams the trailer door open, his face a picture of fury. “You damn troll! Why’d you kill me off, huh? Just kill yourself off, don’t involve me!”
“I did. Kill myself off,” Wracu says, calm amidst the commotion Levi is making. “Haven’t you finished reading the script I gave you?”
Levi gapes. “You what?” Hurriedly, he pulls out the fake script and skims through the next scenes. His eyes water. He places a hand over his trembling lips.
“What’s happening to your face?” Wracu asks, fascinated.
“M-Mate, that’s just tragic,” Levi gasps out. “And you even killed off Merlin at the end.”
“What?” Merlin exclaims, nearly dropping the bag of coffee beans in his hands. “You can’t kill me off! I’m the main character. I’m the titular main character!”
“The title is ‘A Warlock’s Wish’. I’m also a warlock. Maybe I’m the main character,” Wracu drawls out.
Merlin wrinkles his nose at the idea. Levi grimaces and sends Wracu a look one would give a teenager in a rebellious phase. Wracu reaches from behind the sofa and pulls out the biggest NERF gun in existence.
“I don’t like what your face is doing.” Wracu doesn’t wait for Levi to think of a response before peppering the man with foam bullets.
Levi shouts and backs away. He slams the trailer door close to protect himself from the onslaught. “It’s a shoddy script! There’s a plot twist that’s there for shock value. Doesn’t even make sense. You’re a shoddy writer!” Levi insults from outside the trailer.
Levi stomps away and goes back to filming with a copy of the real script.
Inside the trailer, Merlin, with a freshly brewed cup of coffee, asks with a frown, “How are you even aiming that thing? You’re b—“
Wracu turns the NERF gun to Merlin and shoots him continuously without mercy. Three pink bullets land in Merlin’s new cup.
“Don’t do expositions like that,” Wracu tells Merlin, amidst the latter’s colorful cursing.
In Prince Arthur and King Arthur’s trailer
Due to some understandable misunderstandings, their agencies accidentally booked only one trailer. They have to share trailers until the second one becomes available.
“Why is Merlin in Wracu’s trailer?” King Arthur asks with a frown. He bites into a jelly doughnut provided by the catering services. “He has his own trailer.”
“Maybe they’re practicing their lines,” Prince Arthur tosses a stress ball up to the ceiling before catching it. “I heard a rumor that Wracu's a love interest.”
King Arthur chokes on his doughnut. “You heard what? Don’t listen to rumors.”
“Three love interests? Is this a harem?” Disapproval lilts Prince Arthur’s lips. “I should have been the lone love interest.”
“None of us are love interests. Merlin’s main love interest is magic.” King Arthur nods solemnly at his own words. A stress ball hits him at the side of his forehead. He glares at the assaulter.
Prince Arthur glares back. “You didn’t treat Merlin right anyway. In my opinion, you should have been excluded from the get-go. Look at all the scars Merlin got because of you.”
“Is it my fault he refused to let me help with his dangerous quests?” King Arthur huffs out.
“It’s your fault for being so unworthy of Merlin’s trust and secrets.”
A glimmer of true anger flashes by King Arthur’s features. “And you’re worthy? You, who’s only seeing your beloved Lily when you look at Merlin?”
Prince Arthur is unperturbed by the jab. “Lily’s my best friend. I don’t see her that way. Merlin and Lily are completely different people.” Prince Arthur stands up and looks down at the king. “And I am worthy of Merlin’s secrets because I’m not a misogynistic bigot.”
Due to various circumstances, the arrival of the second trailer has to be expedited.
The make-up department has a hard day of work after that day, trying to cover up bruised knuckles and wounded faces.
Scene Marker: The Court Sorcerer and Prince Arthur discussing on the battlements before the Choosing Ceremony
“Theatrics,” Balinor replies instead, unwilling to reveal to Arthur the impossible speculations on his mind. Until he knows more, he’ll not subject the prince himself to it.
Arthur lifts a delicate brow. “Theatrics?”
“Wracu is not prone to such,” Balinor says, twirling the goblet in his hand. The liquid inside sloshes, lines of bright red bubbling to the surface and breaking its dark color. “He pulls the strings from the shadows—“
Pururum-pum-pum pum-pum. Pururum-pum-pum pum-pum.
“All phones on silent, please!” the Director instructs pointedly.
“Sorry, that’s mine.” Balinor, with sheepish gestures, places down the goblet and pulls out his mobile from his costume’s pocket. He glances at the caller id. “It’s my wife. Might be an emergency. Let me just take it quick.”
The Director just waves a flippant hand, giving him permission. “All right, everyone, we’ll start rolling again in five minutes.”
The cameramen check their equipment while some of the staff go out to get some snacks.
Balinor turns away and answers the call. “I’m working, dear. What — I don’t know. . . She must’ve forgotten to charge her phone again. You know how she is. Yes. . .Yes, I did. Have you tried calling Merlin — I think they hang out . . . Him too? Irresponsible brats . . . Bad influence? Hm, it’s the opposite, I think. . .Yes, okay, you do that. Bye. Love you, dear.” Balinor ends the call.
“~Love you, dear~,” Prince Arthur repeats with a smirk.
Balinor punches him on the shoulder without looking.
“Ow.” Prince Arthur winces, rubbing the assaulted area. “When will your wife be coming to set anyway? Doesn’t she have scenes to film too?”
Balinor silences his phone to prevent future interruptions. He looks at Prince Arthur with a frown. “My wife? She’s a mentioned character. She doesn’t have onscreen scenes.”
Prince Arthur, who realizes he has definitely received a far different script than Balinor, opens and closes his mouth. The Director and the Screenwriters have distributed different scripts to castmates to prevent spoilers and increase authenticity during filming. A load of rubbish, Prince Arthur thinks. Actors should fully know what’s going on with the story.
He debates whether to tell Balinor what he knows regarding the scenes that include Mrs. Thrakon Isles.
Balinor will not at all be amused at them, Prince Arthur thinks.
Deciding he really doesn’t want to receive Balinor’s ire right now, Prince Arthur merely says, “Oh, nevermind then.”
“Is it true that the two Arthurs came to blows?” Mordred asks, eyes wide, as he seats himself at the staff dining table.
Merlin sighs. “Yeah. Neither will tell me what happened. Hotheaded prats.” Then, he squints at his new seatmate. “Are you the Mordred who will kill Arthur or the other one?”
“The other one,” Mordred says without missing a beat. “I wouldn’t have sat beside you otherwise.”
“That’s true.” Merlin nods. “What’s your next scene then?”
“My death scene.” Mordred takes a bite of his sandwich, thoughtfully looking up. “Quite gory.”
Merlin blinks rapidly. “Your death scene? I didn’t know you were going to be killed off.”
“Yeah, surprised me too.” Mordred nods and doesn’t seem bothered by it. “And Levi too. Wracu next. And I was so shocked when I read you were going to die at the end too, Merlin. Seemed like a bad ending, to be honest, but the screenwriters know what they’re doing.” Mordred shrugs and continues on his meal.
Ah. It seems Wracu’s botched script is spreading like wildfire on set. Merlin would have told Mordred that he probably doesn’t have a death scene. But Merlin’s too lazy to explain. The Director will take care of it.
“Mordred, Merlin,” Morgana greets with a demure smile as she approaches their table.
“Morgana,” the two of them greet back, returning the smile.
Morgana’s smile twists into a terrifying smirk. “You’ll never return, Merlin.” With that, she stalks away with nary a glance back.
Merlin and Mordred watch her go.
“Huh. That was the evil Morgana, I think,” Merlin remarks, belatedly.
Mordred pops the last bite of his meal into his mouth. “Do you think that was a spoiler?”
Merlin and Mordred exchange a look.
“Nah. I’ll get back, of course,” Merlin replies with a dismissive wave.
When the two Gwens first meet . . .
“You’re so . . . tiny.” Blacksmith!Gwen slaps a hand over her mouth. “I meant —I didn’t mean it in a bad way!”
Lady Gwen chuckles. “Compared to you, I am tiny.” Hurriedly, she follows up with a “Not that there’s anything wrong with being big or muscular!”
Blacksmith!Gwen smiles. “Of course, I didn’t think you were insulting me or anything. You are me.” Then, her eyes widen. “I mean, we’re completely two different people. I didn’t mean to erase your identity!”
“We are similar,” Lady Gwen replies.
Both silently breathe a sigh of relief.
An awkward pause ensues.
“So . . . lunch, my lady?” Blacksmith!Gwen invites.
Lady Gwen beams. “Lead the way.”
When two Lancelots first meet . . .
Lancelot props a fist under his chin. “Why are you always so grumpy?”
Sir Lancelot swallows the potato crisps in his mouth before grunting out, “The Director gave me a tragic backstory.” He gestures vaguely at the gaping scar bisecting his face.
Lancelot frowns. “Well, I also have one, but I didn’t become a grump.”
Sir Lancelot shrugs. “Maybe you’re just hiding your dark side and pretending to be a guileless and cheerful fool to be more palatable to the audience. You didn’t forget that you worked for an evil mercenary that kidnapped your Gwen, did you?” Sir Lancelot smashes another handful of crisps into his mouth.
The monologue perturbs Lancelot. So, he clears his throat and changes the flow of the conversation. “Want to talk about your backstory?”
“No,” Sir Lancelot responds promptly. He narrows his eyes at Lancelot. “Do you want to talk about yours?” His face says that if Lancelot’s answer is anything but negative, he’s going to walk away.
“No, not really.”
“Good.” Sir Lancelot scrounges the last crumbs of his snack, tilting the bag of crumbs over his mouth.
They both sit in the most awkward silence to ever exist.
Lancelot clears his throat. “So, lunch?”
“I just had it,” Sir Lancelot shakes the empty bag of crisps before crumpling the plastic into a tight ball.
Lancelot blinks rapidly. “That’s not lunch.”
Sir Lancelot shrugs.
“No wonder you’re so skinny,” Lancelot says, pity evident in his tone.
Sir Lancelot glares and throws the plastic ball at him without mercy or remorse.
Thankfully, Blacksmith!Gwen, Lady Gwen, and Lancelot manage to drag Sir Lancelot into a proper meal not long after.
“Courageous knight!” Blacksmith!Gwen shouts, pointing aggressively at a seated Sir Lancelot.
“Shrewd man!” Lady Gwen says next, beaming.
“Handsome fellow,” Lancelot lets out with a soft smile.
“Isn’t that just narcissistic?” Sir Lancelot bites out, cheeks as red as apples.
“Why? You and I are completely different people,” Lancelot reasons out.
“That’s right!” Blacksmith!Gwen pipes up. “You are much more handsome, Sir Lancelot.”
From the sidelines, Merlin chuckles and shakes his head.
Wracu approaches the noisy group, dressed in a black jumper with an image of a large skull in the middle. The hood is pulled up over his head, shrouding his face. Beside him, Morgause arches a pompous brow at the theatrical scene.
“What’s all this then?” Wracu asks.
“The circle of praise,” Merlin answers. “People will shout praises to the person sitting in the middle. We’re using it to increase Sir Lancelot’s self-esteem.”
Wracu hums. He inserts himself into the circle and crosses his arms. “Sir Lancelot, when you die, people will cry and mourn you.”
Blacksmith!Gwen, Lady Gwen, and Lancelot pause simultaneously and stare incredulously at Wracu. Morgause cracks up.
Sir Lancelot nods somberly. “That’s high praise.”
Wracu nods back. A thread of understanding passes between the two. Their bewildered audience can do nothing but boggle.
“What the BEEP,” Merlin mutters under his breath.
Scene Marker: Wracu and Morgause go back to the crumbling castle keep after Wracu sabotages the Apprentice Exam.
Wracu and Morgause both cease their treads when Priestess Nimueh rounds off the corner, beauty and lethality in one form. Her long black curls flow like silk behind her, night blue dress swirling with the speed of her strides. The sapphire iris of her left eye and the empty darkness that occupies her right socket pierce them like an arrow.
Skittering far behind her is a mousy boy, almost a man, with a mop of dark brown hair and clad in shabby clothing.
Morgause folds her arms upon her back and lowers her head and gaze.
Wracu twitches not a muscle as Priestess Nimueh draws near. “Mother —“
A slap reverberates throughout the hallways, deafening and heavy-handed. Wracu’s head cracks to the side but he doesn’t stumble back nor does he—
“MotherBEEPing OW!” Wracu curses, except his voice is not Wracu’s at all.
Morgause, Daegal, and Nimueh blink rapidly, bewildered.
Not-Wracu rubs his injured cheek. “Didn’t know this scene had a slap.”
“GWAINE!” the Director bellows.
Gwaine, in Wracu’s cloak, begins running. “I swear this is the last time. I swear!” He guffaws, signaling that it definitely won’t be the last time.
The Director chases him, and both disappear from the set.
“Do you think Wracu’s locked in his trailer again?” Daegal asks.
Morgause shrugs. “Probably.”
Interviewer: What are your preferences, sexually and romantically?
-
“Lesbian,” Clar answers with a huff. “Obviously, I only go for noble ladies. Peasants are just disgusting.”
-
“Romantically?” Theo hums before cupping his chin. “I don’t have any romantic inclinations. Nor sexual ones, I think.”
-
“I’m gay and asexual, of course,” Levi says as if it should have been obvious.
“As am I.” From beside Levi, Loksni answers with a slow blink.
-
Mordred shrugs. “I like girls, I suppose.”
Gilli wrinkles his nose. “I’m too young to be thinking about stuff like that.”
“Gilli, you’re eighteen summers.” Mordred shoots his friend an incredulous look.
“Exactly.”
-
“What?” King Arthur makes a disgusted face. “Of course I prefer women. What are you implying?”
Prince Arthur, passing by, quips, “Your closet isn’t big enough to fit you, Your Majesty.”
“You want another fight, you twat?”
-
Prince Arthur, now far away from a fuming King Arthur, taps his chin. “Gender doesn’t matter to me, sexually or romantically speaking.”
-
Balinor arches a brow. “I have a wife.”
Interviewer: That doesn’t eliminate bi or pansexuality.
Balinor smirks. “I suppose it doesn’t.”
Balinor refuses to say anything more no matter how much the Interviewer prods.
-
“I prefer men,” Morgana Le Fay says demurely. “Although, I am occasionally attracted to certain types of women.”
-
Unfortunately, Morgana Pendragon’s response cannot be recorded as she burned the camera to a crisp. She says she is romantically inclined to sit on the throne of Camelot.
-
“I go both ways,” Morgause Le Fay answers with a nonchalant shrug. “But I really don’t have time for that right now. Lots of schemes to implement, you see. Plus, I have to take care of my careless sister and a bloody Edgelord.”
-
“Huh?” Daegal scratches his head. A blush stains his cheeks. “I don’t know. Um. I think — I’m still figuring it out. Um.”
-
Wracu stares at the Interviewer, saying not a peep. The silence goes on for several uncomfortable minutes.
Interviewer: *clears throat* Wracu? Would you like me to repeat the question?
“What?” Wracu removes one of his Airpods from his ears. His brows furrow in irritation. “Were you talking to me?”
Interviewer decides to ask again when Wracu is in a better mood.
-
“Huh? What?” A puzzled look paints Merlin’s face. “Why—What does that have to do with anything?”
Interviewer: People are just curious, especially since you’re the main character.
“Um. I had a girl I liked once. Freya.”
Interviewer: So, you prefer women? And only women?
“Well, yes.” Merlin frowns.
Balinor, walking in the background, says, “Let him have his sexuality crisis off-camera, for mercy’s sake.”
“Hey, I wasn’t —!“
King Arthur, on the way to the filming set, sees Merlin conversing with a gorgeous woman.
“Who’s this then?” King Arthur interjects into their conversation, a smirk in place. “A girlfriend, Merlin? I didn’t know you had it in you.”
Horror paints every line of Merlin’s face, making King Arthur snicker inwardly.
The young woman, long ebony locks framing a soft angular face, stares at the king with stormy blue eyes. She looks very familiar actually, now that King Arthur’s peering closer, but he cannot for the life of him remember where they’d met.
“This isn’t The Loki Show, Your Majesty,” the woman drawls out, arching a delicate brow.
For a moment, King Arthur remains blissfully clueless. Then, realization sets in. His head snaps between a disgusted Merlin and the unamused woman.
King Arthur blanches. “Ah. I—I apologize, my lady.”
“Really, think before you speak, Arthur,” Merlin grouses, wrinkling his nose.
The woman — Lily of Veelin — roves his gaze from the bottom of King Arthur’s boots to the top of his head. King Arthur bristles because there’s something insulting in the gesture.
Lily tilts her head to the side. “I can see why my Arthur is irritated by you.”
King Arthur, unable to let an implied insult go unchallenged, shoots back. “Your Arthur? I was under the impression there’s nothing between you two.”
Lily covers her mouth, imitating a scandalized noblewoman. But King Arthur can see she’s hiding a grin rather than a surprised open mouth.
“My, my. Is that envy I detect? Do you wish Merlin here claims you as his own like I do mine?”
King Arthur splutters. “What? No!”
“All right!” Merlin shouts as if trying to erase every word spoken in the last few minutes. He grabs Lily by the shoulders, spins her around, and forces her to walk forward with him. “Lots of scenes to film today, whew! Let’s get going!”
Lily shoots the annoyed king another smirk. Merlin sends him an apologetic and ‘please refrain from punching the woman version of me’ look.
King Arthur is left standing alone, wondering why everyone in the other realm has it out for him.
A group of castmates ambushes a guileless Merlin in the cafeteria.
“Merlin, you know what Wracu looks like underneath the hood, right?” Levi asks with a wide grin. “Settle a bet for us. Tell us who he is!”
Merlin, mouth full of a bite of burger, looks up at them. “Who he is?”
“He must be someone we know,” Gilli pipes up. “Else, his face wouldn’t be covered, would it?”
“The reveal must be a plot twist to be revealed later on.” Theo nods confidently. “So, tell us!”
Merlin swallows his food. “Levi, you saw what he looked like. You barged into his trailer just last week!”
All eyes swivel to Levi.
Levi, wide-eyed, asks, “Wait, that was his real face? Not a disguise?”
“Why would he disguise himself in his own trailer?” Merlin shoots back with a frown.
“Oh.” Levi’s mouth drops open. “Well, that’s just boring!”
“What does he look like?” the rest of the cast demands. “Who is he?”
“Well, lads and lasses and none of the above,” Levi begins, rocking on his heels. “I think this is gonna be a V for Vendetta scenario. Maybe the real Wracu was the friends we made along the way.”
With that nonsensical remark, Levi runs off. The cast members shout at him, angry and bewildered. A couple of them give chase.
“You have to tell us now!” Gilli, one of those that remained behind, insists.
Merlin takes another bite of his burger and shrugs. “I think his face is hidden because he’s actually b —“
Three consecutive foam bullets bounce off the back of Merlin’s skull. He sighs and rubs the back of his head. Gilli and the others glance around to look for the attacker. They find no one.
Merlin waves his fellow castmates away. “I don’t want any NERF bullets in my coffee again so no exposition of any kind from me, I’m afraid.”