Merlin (Arthur's POV)

Untitled Part 1

Arthur Pendragon had been at knight training all morning. He needed to let off steam. There are probably more than a few that will disapprove of whatever way he decides to do so, but it's not like anyone would ever say anything. He was Arthur Pendragon, crown prince of Camelot, born to be king, son of the well-known or infamous (depending on your point of view) King Uther Pendragon.

A small part of him was begging for somebody say something at least once in his life. Nobody would ever have the courage to do so though; nobody was ever brave enough. Ever.

Eventually Arthur settled on target practice. By the hour, though, he was tired was the same old, same old. Throwing knives at a board in the same spot over and over and over and over and... There was no one to watch him hit the bull's eye 99% of the time which just made it boring when Arthur was honest with himself.

As his blue gaze traveled over to his scronny, short servant, Thomas, he smiled. Oh! He knew exactly what he wanted to do. "Thomas!" Arthur yelled, making the smaller one of the two jump out of his skin.

"Yes, Sire?" the boy asked, inching his way toward his master.

"Come with me," the prince ordered. "We're going to the square. I'm sure there will be witnesses there."

"Witnesses to what?"

"To prove this was all just a game. You know, just in case," he teased, smile plastered on his face.

The boy's anxiety got the better of him as the servant began to fiddle with his shirt, a nervous action Arthur had picked up on. "Just in case of what, Sire?" he asked.

"Bring the target and you'll see, Thomas," Arthur answered, rolling his eyes.

The servant just nodded and followed, wooden target in his hands as he walked, almost tripping with every step he took. Arthur didn't think he had met more of an idiot.

Once they were in the square, Arthur saw he was right. There were plenty of people to watch his throwing skills. There were even a few of the noblemen's sons there. They might join him. A competition could be fun...

Thomas set up the target, giving Arthur the chance to tease him a little bit. One might consider him ruse or unkind, but it was all just friendly teasing, nothing serious. "Where's the target?" Arthur asked the other young man.

"Right there...?" Thomas answered, the nobles behind Arthur snickering at the boy's confusion.

"It's in the sun," Arthur stated.

Thomas swallowed. "It's not that bright."

"Bit like you, then," Arthur joked, a chorus of laughter sounding behind him.

"I'll put the target on the other side then, shall I , Sire?" asked Thomas, trying not to get emotional.

"Please," Arthur replied sarcastically as he turned to the noble beside him. He didn't know their name, only their station, which was just bellow his, Arthur presumed. "This'll teach him."

Thomas carried the target almost on his back, the face of the target facing the prince and his acquaintances. Arthur threw the knife at the slowly moving target. It landed roughly on the bull's eye's edge.

"Hey!" Thomas yelled, his head popping up from behind the target. "Hang on!"

"No, keep going!" Arthur yelled back, most of those around him laughing as he did.

Thomas took a few steps left before stopping again. "Here?"

"I told you to keep moving," Arthur said as he arched his arm back to throw another knife. Thomas quickly ducked behind the wooden circle as the knight flew toward him. It stuck in the middle of the target, in the middle of the bull's eye.

"Come on!" Arthur encourage the servant. "Run!"

Thomas began to run, the target still help up as Arthur threw another knife. "We want some moving target practice!" Arthur called, laughing as he spoke for the noblemen standing with him. He threw more knives, watching as the servant ran back and forth.

The servant tripped, kneeling down at the target rolled away from him. It stopped in front of a stranger who put his foot on the wood, keeping it from rattling. The stranger was tall and lean, though he could have been skinny underneath all those layers of cloths. He had raven hair, pail skin and sapphire eyes. Arthur didn't have to wonder if this stranger was a noble or what his station was. He was common like his servant, judging by the worn clothing on his back.

"Hey, come on," he said. "That's enough."

"What?" Arthur asked, not quite sure he had heard right. Had he just...?

"You've had your fun, my friend," the stranger told him.

Arthur walked over to him, both curious and slightly offended. "Do I know you?" he asked.

"I'm Merlin," he introduced, putting his hand out.

"So I don't know you."

Merlin let his hand fall back to his side. "No."

"Yet you called me 'friend'," Arthur reminded the other young man.

Merlin tried not to smile, but Arthur could tell he wanted to. Or maybe he was just trying to control his mouth. It didn't stay shut, though. "That was my mistake."

"Yes, I think so," Arthur replied, smug as ever.

"Yeah, I'd never have a friend who could be such an ass," Merlin confessed, smiling as he started to walk away.

"Or I, one who could be so stupid," Arthur called after him. He stopped, not taking another step as Arthur walk over to him. "Tell me, Merlin, do you know how to walk on your knees?"

"No," Merlin answered as they came face to face.

Arthur smile widened internally, though he didn't know if that showed on the outside. "Would you like me to help you?" the prince offered.

"I wouldn't if I were you," Merlin replied, not a beat slipping by.

Arthur laughed a lighter laugh than he had in years. "Why, what're you gonna do to me?"

"You have no idea," Merlin taunted.

"Be my guest!" Arthur exclaimed. He spread his arms out. "Come on. Come on."

Everybody around the two were quiet now. They were watching, watching to see what would happen, if this Merlin could really put Arthur in his place. When honest, Arthur wanted to know what this Merlin could do as well.

Merlin glanced around, noticing the onlookers Arthur had. He seemed to be hesitating. "Come on," Arthur said again, maybe only loud enough for him to hear, maybe loud enough for everybody to hear. He didn't know.

At that, Merlin swung, moving quickly to punch Arthur across the face. He wasn't past enough, though, not fast enough for Arthur. Arthur twisted Merlin's arm around, pinning it behind the commoner's back. "I'll throw you in jail for that," Arthur reminded him.

"Who do you think you are?" Merlin asked, jerking as to get himself out of the hold. It didn't work. "The king?"

Arthur was disappointed at Merlin's questions. So the commoner hadn't known who he was or his rank. Did that make him as brave as before? Or was it the fact that he hadn't known of the consequences that he was brave?

Arthur would answer none-the-less. "No," he said, leaning down to speak into one of Merlin's rather large ears. "I'm his son: Arthur."

As it sunk into Merlin's head, the prince yanked him down like pulling the right string. Merlin went to the ground before Arthur turned to a nearby guard. "Would somebody throw this idiot in a cell?"