[His hands clench into tight fists as this hyur mocks him. He does not take disrespect lightly, but especially not when it comes to his religion. The rage behind his eyes is fierce, and the furrow of his brow only intensifies the wild look of his glowing limbal rings against the dark sclera.]

You make mock of me, hyur. Do not do so again.

[His voice is loud and commanding, every bit the projecting force of a leader, the dangerous edge like a warning shot for the fists that will make good on the unspoken promise of violence should Merlin find himself overstepping again.]

We are not equals, never will we be, regardless of what queer land we find ourselves in, what queer notions you find yourself fancying. Born of the Sun am I, born of the earth are you, and so I shall not humble myself to inferiors.

Now, kneel before the Sun, beg for His forgiveness, and He may yet show you mercy.