Hey! So I think Merlin's pretty awesome, and seriously, there's gotta be more awesome stuff he can do besides magic.

So I give you this short oneshot - I hope you like it!

"You're dismissed, Merlin," Arthur said, gruffly.

Merlin grinned and left the room. "G'night, sire!"

As soon as he was gone, Arthur allowed the day to catch up with him and fell onto his bed.

He had been training the new recruits today, and it seemed as if they were getting worse. It had taken no more than two minutes to disarm the best of them in a sword fight, and each one of them was even worse with any sort of projectile. Especially the knife throwing.

Looking back, it probably wasn't the best idea to have the untrained initiates throw knives, but Arthur was quite sure that at their age, maybe even younger, he would know enough to not send Sir Leon to the physician.

Arthur was glad he didn't decide to train them with the mace. It probably would have ended even worse than this day did.

He groaned. It was just so hopeless! If these young men were the future of Camelot, Arthur didn't know how the kingdom will stay standing. He had wanted to blow up at them so many times, but there was no other way to get better knights. Unless he knighted commoners, but his father would never approve of that.

After a few minutes of moping to himself, he decided to go for a stroll around the castle. Perhaps it would calm him down. At least he wouldn't wreck his room from frustration.

Arthur rolled his eyes as he passed the sleeping guards. It seemed as if the new recruits weren't the only hopeless ones.

He didn't wake them up. There were other times to berate the guards.

Arthur took a few turns and found himself by a window overlooking the training grounds. He stared at the dimly lit targets and sighed. Then a movement caught his eye.

Someone was on the training grounds.

The prince supposed he should have been glad that at least one of the recruits had the drive to practice outside of training, but today he simply felt annoyed. What was the point? They were all hopeless anyways.

Arthur watched as the somewhat familiar figure reached into its pocket and pull out something sharp and small - a throwing knife. Then the figure tossed it up into the air a few times.

Arthur snorted. The young, overconfident fool was probably going to cut himself by doing that.

Suddenly, with the knife still in the air, the person's legs spread apart. His back straightened. And with the kind of skill that only the best had, he plucked the knife out of the air and flung it forward, as fast as a viper. Arthur watched, transfixed, as the knife flew straight and true - into the center of the target.

The figure leaned forward and inspected his throw. He nodded, as if it were nothing special, and stepped back a little bit farther from the target.

How could he just look at that throw and nod? Why was he not cheering when he hit the bull's eye?

Arthur could only stare as the figure tossed another knife in the air and repeated the knife throw, again hitting the center of the target.

Again, and again, the person threw the knives, never failing to hit the bull's eye.

The prince found himself feeling angry. One of the recruits had been holding back! One of them was an expert at throwing knives, so good that he could throw nine of them in quick succession and never fail to hit the target. Arthur stormed back to his room, fuming. Why would one of the initiates throw away the chance to impress the prince? He could easily be the next head of the knights, and instead the recruit hid his skills and held back in training.

As Arthur flung into his bed, he promised himself that he will find that person. And he knew exactly how he was going to do it.

"Today, we will again be working on knife throwing," Arthur told the initiates.

They all groaned.

"None of that, now," Arthur reprimanded them. "If you fail to hit the target, you will be running laps around the grounds in full armor. Now, pick up a knife and get throwing."

The boys scattered and picked up the throwing knives. Arthur searched their faces, looking for the mysterious knife throwing figure he had seen. Every one of their faces seemed scared and nervous - not the kind you'd expect from and expert knife thrower.

"Do I have to be here?" Merlin whined behind him. "I don't want to end up like Leon - a knife in the arse, that's gotta hurt."

"Listen Merlin, one of these recruits is an expert knife thrower. I expect you to help me find him."

Merlin stared at Arthur incredulously. "Are you kidding?"

"No," Arthur said seriously. He watched as a boy threw a knife, which didn't even fly farther than four feet.

"That's a lap for you, Griflet!" Arthur called out. The boy paled and reluctantly started to run around the training grounds.

"Arthur, are you blind? There's no way any of these are good at knife throwing! They can't even hold the knife right!"

Arthur rolled his eyes, but silently agreed. He watched disdainfully as one boy managed to throw the knife backwards and nearly impale one of his friends.

"I'm serious, Merlin. Last night one of them was here on the grounds. I thought one of them was practicing, but I swear, he didn't need any practice! Every single one of his throws nailed the target! If anything, he was out there venting about his problems or something..."

If Arthur had looked back, he would have seen that Merlin had paled considerably. However, he was focused on the the trainees, searching for any signs of them holding back.

"Venting about his problems... Yeah..." Merlin mumbled. He was just lucky Arthur didn't see him use magic to retrieve the knives after he threw them.

When all the recruits were running laps around the training grounds, Merlin hustled to pick up all of the fallen knives.

"You would think that at least one of these could even hit the target," Merlin mumbled to himself. He looked over, where Arthur was telling them to try harder and to watch as he threw the knife, properly.

"MERLIN!" Arthur called out. Merlin rolled his eyes and headed over, holding a few knives for Arthur to throw.

"Merlin, show them the wrong way to throw a knife."

Merlin started up at Arthur. "Um... Excuse me?"

"Throw the knife at the target!" Arthur said.

Merlin felt a surge of anger rush through him. Arthur didn't think he could throw a knife! Merlin, who spent every day helping Arthur in training! Merlin, who had saved Arthur's life a thousand times without any thanks! Merlin, who had gotten thrown into the stocks more times than he could count for the sake of his destiny!

Merlin growled, picked up one of the knives, twirled it around his fingers a few times and flung it forward.

He watched with satisfaction as it stuck into the center of the target, as it usually did. He grinned and turned over to Arthur and the trainees.

Arthur was staring at him, mouth open. The boys behind him were fearfully looking between the servant and the prince.

"Close your mouth, sire, you'll be catching flies."

One of the boys squeaked at the obvious disrespect coming from his mouth.

Arthur seemed to regain the ability to speak.

"You idiot! I told you to show them the wrong way to throw a knife!"

Merlin sighed and rolled his eyes. Some things never change.

Hope you liked it! Reviews will be appreciated!

Also, have a nice day!

-LazuliQuetzal