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All his life Merlin has been accused of being incautious, but he isn’t, not really. Magic is a golden light beneath the skin, Magic is a tide, a fire, a whirlwind, a roaring that can’t be stifled. Magic is not subtle. Merlin does his best.
His mother always worried for him, always taught him caution. Magic is a never ending sea that is constantly in flood, sending tidal waves out and out, but Merlin keeps it in, keeps it contained, directs it and lets it flow as he wills it to, never lets it leak out, or spill over where someone might see.
So Merlin is sometimes incautious. Sometimes he uses his magic out in the open, if no one is looking, sometimes he plays. So what about it? Merlin is magic. He can’t kill it, can’t stifle its golden life, can’t make it silent. Merlin does his best, and sometimes that means taking risks just to survive. There are times he doesn’t use caution, true, at least not as much as his mother or Gauius would prefer, but he is constantly alert.
And if his best isn’t enough, well. He’ll just have to face the consequences. But he can’t live like he’s dying. He’s subtle, he really is, but he refuses to be silent.