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This started off as a Camelot_Drabble prompt and just sort of expanded from there. Hope you like it.

Of all the prats in the kingdom Merlin could have been assigned to, he figured it was just his luck that he had landed himself with the biggest one of them all. Why people thought it would be an honour to serve someone like Arthur, Merlin had no idea. So much for a reward. When Uther had first mentioned it, Merlin's heart had fluttered. If it could be something physical, something that he could send to his mother to make a few months just a bit easier…

But no.

His reward was to be a moving target for the man's son, who had decided his ego wasn't nearly big enough and he had to show Merlin again just how impressive his sword skills were. Merlin didn't think it really counted when all that was happening was Arthur was battering against a shield that Merlin was cowering behind. There was no other word for it, he was hiding.

His arms had been screaming at him, his shoulders threatening to move in directions they weren't supposed to go. And it hadn't helped there had been such a look of concentration on Arthur's face for the whole time that Merlin knew his discomfort would either be ignored or not even noticed.

But he stuck it out, gritted his teeth and refused to let a word of complaint slip from his lips. Gaius' words weren't exactly sympathetic when he returned to his new home but the old man had certainly known how to stretch out his aching muscles. With surprisingly nimble fingers for a man of his age, it hadn't taken him long to force Merlin's protesting body to start listening to him again and stop feeling like it was just about to fall apart.

Merlin told himself he could survive this. After all, the training session was over and he had time to recover before Arthur put him through that sort of torment again.

At least, that was what he believed and repeatedly told himself. Until an hour later when Arthur called him back out onto the training grounds.

How on earth was that even fair?

Resisting the urge to barricade himself in his room – certain that Arthur would just break down his door if he attempted that – Merlin had dragged himself down there. He wasn't given the shield this time, but to his dismay had a mace shoved into his hand. What he was more concerned about, however, was that Arthur also seemed to have forgotten to give him any sort of protective gear.

Merlin was pretty certain the prince had dragged him out here for a repeat performance of what had happened at the market and this time, there was nothing to hide behind in order to use magic. Merlin had taken the mace when it had been shoved into his hand, but while Arthur's back was turned, he simply released his grip and it dropped to the floor. The prince turned back, his eyes narrowing when he saw Merlin was weaponless again.

"Stop looking like the back end of a dog, Merlin, and pick it up." Already, Merlin was beginning to hate the way the man drawled his name, but all he could do was roll his eyes and bend down. He didn't trust Arthur to not just attack him anyway and realised that having something in his hand might give him a better chance. His grip was tentative and he looked at the weapon in disgust. How he longed to show Arthur what he had truly meant in his boasting back in the market. It certainly wasn't this.

"What are you doing?" He asked, knowing his voice border-lined on nervousness. The prince had the shield they had used earlier, but he wasn't passing it over. In fact, he was keeping a tight grip on it himself. It was only now that Merlin noticed Arthur only had the shield; there were no weapon in his hand. It didn't make him feel any better. Merlin was convinced this was some sort of trap. There were guards watching or something along those lines so as soon as Merlin swung, Arthur would have him carted off to the dungeons again.

"What does it look like? Your technique was awful, frankly embarrassing." Arthur's voice was dismissive and nothing short of rude, his tone implying that he thought Merlin was an idiot for not having figured it out himself yet. Merlin glared back, not prepared to just be pushed around in such a way.

"I seem to remember winning."

"I seem to remember landing you on the floor with a broom to your head. You had a moment of fortune, that's all." This time, Merlin flushed. His voice had been cool and collected before, but Arthur had just brushed it aside as if he hadn't even noticed.

"That's not fair, I had you on the ground first," Merlin protested, glaring at Arthur for all he was worth and trying to cool his flaming cheeks. He had won, but he could hardly draw attention to the way Arthur had suddenly grown clumsy. It wouldn't do for the prince to start thinking too deeply about what had happened. It was only Gaius arriving that had changed Merlin's fate, distracting him and preventing him from using his powers any further.

Arthur, however, clearly didn't see it that way considering the way he was smirking back at him. His hold on the shield was lose and it was clear he thought that Merlin offered him no threat despite the weapon situation. If he was completely honest, Merlin had a sneaky feeling that Arthur was probably right.

Filled with a sudden anger at the whole situation, Merlin twisted his hand so that he was holding the mace better and swung for Arthur with everything that he had. Ever since he had arrived in Camelot, all Arthur had done was treat him like a nuisance or like he was so weak he couldn't even stand on his own two feet. Had the man forgotten already that it had been Merlin that saved his life? The anger filled him up and lent him a strength that he didn't usually possess, but it didn't get him far.

Somehow, it came as no surprise that Arthur easily deflected the blow with a simple movement of the shield. His arms absorbed the impact and he didn't even stumble, not compared to the way Merlin had in their first training session.

What did come as a shock, however, was when he did something to the shield that caused the mace to twist and go flying out of Merlin's hand. It only narrowly avoided landing on his own foot and Merlin stared at it, his heart hammering in his chest. He was sure he had been holding onto it tightly.

"Like I said, your grip is pathetic. Keep your thumb tucked around so you can actually hold it and relax your arm more. If I had moved any faster, that would have jolted your whole arm."

Now that Merlin had his attention drawn to it, he noticed his arm did ache a touch. Still, he glared at the prince and bent down to pick up the mace. As he straightened up, he saw Arthur shift the shield into a ready position again, despite the fact that he was rolling his eyes at the same time.

"Again."

"You do it if you want to do this so badly." Merlin muttered, not wanting to continue. He already ached from earlier on, he saw no reason why they even had to go through this.

"I'm not the one who needs training in what to do."

"What?" Merlin stared at him. He had thought this was some sort of punishment, a humiliation because Arthur was a prat. Merlin knew he was never going to be any good at weapons, he didn't have the build for it. More than that, he didn't have the need for it, but he could hardly tell Arthur that part. But there had been a note in Arthur's voice that he hadn't heard before, something other than mocking and scathing comments. He had actually sounded serious, as if they were out here for a reason other than just Arthur wanting to humiliate him. When Merlin didn't drop his gaze, Arthur stared steadily back at him.

"You're hopeless, Merlin."

"Thanks."

"And have absolutely no way to defend yourself. I have no intention of coming back one day and finding you've been beaten to a pulp by some noble you decided to insult and that you didn't get a swing in."

"You're doing this so I can protect myself?" Merlin didn't care that his voice might have risen a notch as he spoke, he just couldn't believe what he had just heard Arthur say. The man just shrugged.

"Again."

This time, Merlin decided to do as he was told. A thought was beginning to form in his mind, one that he wasn't sure he liked. But it made him feel that perhaps there was a purpose to this after all rather than just Arthur showing off. This time, he sounded like he had meant what he had said. He genuinely wanted Merlin to be able to hold his own in a fight. Trying not to think about the fact that Arthur thought he would get into scraps that frequently, Merlin felt a little touched.

Deciding to do as Arthur has said, he shifted his grip on the mace and at the very last second, wrapped his thumb around it. Arthur's grinning face told him the prince had noticed but Merlin didn't give him time to feel too smug before he swung for him again.

He almost jerked his arm again, but somehow managed to keep hold of the mace. He felt irrationally proud when he got a second blow in before Arthur disarmed him. Especially as he was sure he had seen a flicker of surprise in Arthur's gaze, a hint that he was impressed Merlin had taken on board what he had said.

"Again. You need to actually move your feet, correct your balance in time with the swing in order to get more force behind it."

"Yes, Sire," Merlin gritted out, nursing his elbow. But he found he had bent down to pick up the mace again. And then – as much to his surprise as Arthur's – he found himself listening to the prince's advice. He tried again, shifting his weight as he did so.

He soon forgot to think bitter thoughts about Arthur as the afternoon wore on. His arm was screaming at him once again, but the concentration helped to mask the pain. He was never going to be any good at it, but by the time Arthur called them to a halt, Merlin could get in at least five hits before Arthur got the mace out of his hand – and the best part was he knew Arthur was actually having to try to disarm him rather than doing it easily.

By the time Merlin was stumbling back to Gaius – every inch of him hurting (although he didn't know why) – he felt that maybe he had underestimated Arthur after all. No one had ever tried to teach him to defend himself before. Arthur didn't know that he had an infallible defence if he was ever in trouble and had taken it upon himself to try and help. As he tripped up the stairs, Merlin smiled at the thought. It also meant that Arthur had realised that he was not the type to ever just stand back and stay quiet if he thought something was wrong. It was like he was encouraging Merlin to stay true to himself while he barked orders and tried to tell him what to do.

Merlin felt oddly touched. And, for the first time since arriving in Camelot, had a feeling that maybe he could just survive this place. Not just because of Arthur's training, but because of the man himself. He couldn't help but feel he might have found himself a friend.