𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 ─ the knight,

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Having only been Arthur's maid-servant for two weeks or so, Merlyn was still learning what she could and couldn't get away with whilst in the presence of the king - she had made a note that calling his future heir to the throne a prat, was not one of them. Despite the uncrowned prince and the young sorceress having got off on the wrong foot, they seemed less hostile than when they had first met - often, insults and taunts were still tossed between the two but the imminent threat that they would begin to brawl had somewhat disappeared. Merlyn had suspected that if the confrontational behaviour didn't cease both of their lives would become a recreation of hell itself because they were practically (and reluctantly) joined at the hip every hour of every day.

Since she began her work as Arthur's maid-servant, she'd been given well made dresses, they weren't elegant or fanciful of course but the fabrics were soft against her skin and fit perfectly, Merlyn knew she only received them because she had to look presentable when she was around Arthur. She quite enjoyed them, they were plain but pretty, perfect for Merlyn who preferred to stay out of the spotlight, her favourite was the one she donned most frequently - it was almost similar to the ones she previously owned but these were much more precious. Its colour was that of vivid cerulean, the fabric like silk against her body and the design was similar to those of Guinevere's, the neckline dipped to just above Merlyn's bust and the sleeves fit tight against her up until her elbows where the fabric fanned out and created a sweeping motion. The dress had a lace up corset bodice on the front that was to be tied with a silver strip of fabric and formed a pretty bow by the cinched waist, after that, the soft material became looser and more free flowing, creating a small empire gown effect.

Within the two weeks, Merlyn had also been taught basic etiquette by both the Lady Morgana and Guinevere so that she wouldn't embarrass herself in social situations with other royals or those of noble descent whilst tending to Arthur. She'd had lessons in how to perform a good and proper curtsy - bending her knees and bowing her head as a sign of respect - those lessons took a good few days because Merlyn simply wasn't made for submitting to every man or royal that crossed her path. Her respect was supposed to be earned. In short, each and everyone of the lessons Merlyn had had to endure were nothing short of excruciating so when she was awoken at the very crack of dawn by Sir Leon rapping against the door to her chambers, with the request that she was to meet Arthur on the training grounds - she felt a grin creep onto her face.

Throwing back her covers with a renewed vigour, Merlyn washed herself and decided against her newly fashioned dresses, pulling on her clean sleep tunic, some thick leggings and scuffed brown boots - most of her attire having belonged to an old friend from her home village. She then raked a brush through her lengthy locks and tied her hair in a neat ponytail by the base of her neck. In the hopes that she wouldn't draw too much attention to herself, she pulled on her dark cloak and pulled it tight around her body - hiding her revealing clothing from those she'd pass on her journey to the grounds.

Merlyn stumbled from her sleeping chambers, wrapped Gaius up in a quick, one-armed hug (the other still holding her cloak) and raced out of the room, along the corridors and out into the square before finding the training grounds and seeing Arthur.

"Morning," she offered, flicking her hair onto her back.

"Hmm," he hummed, "is it still morning?" Arthur asked, sarcasm oozing from every syllable.

"It didn't take me that long," Merlyn snapped back, hands coming up to her throat in order to untie the clasp that held her cloak steadily around her shoulders.

Arthur turned and scoffed, "yes it did," he took a freshly cleansed sword and flicked his wrist, watching as the early morning sun reflected in the sharpened steel.

"Bloody Hell, I'm here now what does it matter," she snapped again, untidily folding her cloak and placing it gently on the ground where she was sure it couldn't get caught in the battle they were to have.

"You still have no idea how to speak to-," Arthur cut himself off as he spun around and his eyes found the form of his maid-servant. He may have only known Merlyn two weeks or so but either way he was used to her frame being clad in a gown but as he turned and came face to face with her back as she picked her own sword - his mouth ran dry. Her tunic clearly didn't belong to her and it appeared to be worn and threadbare, the laces on the front lay scandalously open and sleeves were somewhat tattered. The leggings she wore revealed her figure as they clung close and tight to her skin - Arthur felt his face darken with a light blush and he swallowed back an indecent comment, his mouth still dry.

"I know how to speak to you, I simply chose not to," jested Merlyn, knowing what the end of his statement would be. Finally satisfied with her chosen weapons - Merlyn turned to face her prince, a steel short-sword clutched in each hand, smirk on her face at her unexpected dual-wield.

The sorceress tilted her head to the side in confusion, eyebrows furrowing when she noticed Arthur's gaze purely on his broadsword rather than his soon to be opponent.

"What's wrong?" Asked Merlyn, not concerned but rather eager to flaunt her weaponry skills to the arrogant prince.

For a second, Arthur didn't reply but when he did his voice was strained, "what on earth are you wearing?"

"Clothes."

"Very funny Merlyn," he snapped, "I assume you're aware your attire isn't appropriate for public eyes."

"Well I can hardly assist you in your training in a dress, too constricting," she drawled, "so either dismiss me and let me sleep or realise both men and women have legs and let me kick your arse."

"I-," he stuttered again before huffing, "fine," and with that, he let the subject drop.

The two moved so they were some feet apart, their legs shoulder width apart and their weapons raised as they patiently waited to see who'd make the first move. Arthur began to move to the left, still keeping away from Merlyn as she too began to move in the same direction, the two circling one another.

It was Arthur who made the first move, a feeble outward slash with his sword that Merlyn easily side-stepped and as if to egg the prince on, she tapped the tips of her dual swords together, the sound of the light clash causing her to smirk. They continued to circle one another, Arthur re-creating the same powerless jabs without any other attempt to defeat her.

"It appears they were wrong about you," taunted Merlyn, her tone playful and Arthur raised an eyebrow in response, "they all say you're talented with a sword."

"I am," the prince replied automatically, defending himself.

"Doesn't seem like it."

"That's because you're a girl, I don't want to hurt you."

Merlyn's features hardened and she let out a scoff, "oh of course because men are stronger than women, you've seen me fight" she snarled, rotating her wrists to ease her grip on her weapons.

"You're a woman, I was going easy on you," justified Arthur.

"Well I'm not," and with that Merlyn raised her swords above her head and slashed them back down on either side of Arthur's frame, he himself backed away from the left sword and with his own - parried the blow of the other. Arthur staggered, taken aback and immediately engaged in the battle, he copied her move, bringing his sword with two hands over his head - ready to slam it down but Merlyn brought her shortswords up, the blades creating an x shape as they caught his weapon between them. As Arthur pushed down on his sword, breaking the defense Merlyn's had made, he advanced and made a jab to her right which she was able to deflect with the tip of her blade as well as send a flurry of attacks with her lighter swords but he was able to avoid each blow with his quick footwork, his sword dragging lightly to the floor.

The prince and the sorceress continued to evenly battle, both having had the upper hand at various points and neither seemed to be close to giving up - their pride too large to back down. Arthur because of his title of being both the prince and one of the greatest swordsmen in the land and Merlyn desperate to prove that despite the fact she was a woman - she was a force to be reckoned with. It was clear he underestimated Merlyn - his features pulling into an expression of shock whenever she dealt a powerful blow or performed a technical parry. The spar continued on for almost twenty minutes and Merlyn's muscles were aching, begging her to just stop because she had never fought so hard or for so long before and it being shown in each troublesome movement she made - not that she'd never outwardly express it to the arrogant prince. However, Arthur too, was tiring - his palms sweaty and his iron grip on the hilt of broadsword slowly weakened at the nonstop, complex movements. Finally, Arthur managed to hook his foot around Merlyn's ankle, tripping her so that she fell backwards, her head smacking against the grassy barracks painfully.

"Got you," he snarked confidently, his legs either side of Merlyn's waist and his other hand gesturing to the tip of his blade that sat nearly on her exposed throat.

A light, metallic tapping sound caught his attention and he peered down between their bodies to see both of Merlyn's shortswords sitting prettily against his chest plate, "I think that's a stalemate, don't you?"

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The training lesson lasted a few hours longer with the two trying out different weapons such as maces and flails and each time they still arrived at a stalemate - neither better than the other. However, by the end of the task, Merlyn was aching from head to toe, her arms felt heavy and she dragged her feet as though she was full of lead - there was a distinct throbbing at the back of her skull from where she'd hit the floor.

Merlyn burst through the doors of the chamber that she shared with Gaius, groans falling from her lips and both of her shortswords were clutched in her grip along with Arthur's (who'd demanded they be cleaned and sharpened) and tucked under her arm was a book on etiquette.

As she stumbled to the centre of the chambers and threw the weapons and book down with a clatter onto the wood, Gaius let out a small chuckle, "so how was your first day as Arthur's servant?" He asked, still standing by the table he used to concoct his remedies, swirling a bottled liquid over a controlled, open flame.

Merlyn stretched before answering, her joints popping and straining, "it wasn't awful," she said, "we fought and neither of us outright won." Her olive eyes zoned in on the pile of swords in front of her, her book only a few inches away and she felt physically tired even thinking about reaching for anything there.

"That's wonderful," Gaius chimed in, eyes alight with pride as he came to stand behind Merlyn, resting his hands on her shoulders for a second - giving them a comforting squeeze.

"I still have to learn all about the tournament etiquette by morning," the young witch groaned, running her hands through her hair. "Unheran achtung bragdan," with the whisper of the new spell she'd learned, Merlyn's book slid across the table and into her lap, the pages turning by themselves until they landed on an illustration of the typical armour worn in tournaments.

Frustrated, Gaius delivered a swift but light slap to Merlyn's shoulder as a warning of her using her magic so freely in the castle of a tyrant king, "what have I bloody told you about using your magic like that!" The older man lectured.

"If I could feel my arms, I'd pick it up," retorted Merlyn, "but believe it or not, I've been sparring with one of the most skilled swordsmen in the land all morning." She snapped.

"Nevermind your arms, what do I do if I get caught?" Gaius answered right back.

There was a pause as the two glowered at one another, Gaius expectantly and Merlyn more inquisitive, "what would you do?"

"Well you just make sure it doesn't happen for both our sakes," the older man finalized, taking Merlyn's arm in his hands and helping her stretch out her stiff muscles.

"This is ridiculous," Merlyn started again as she groaned in pain, "I saved his life and my reward is a servant job? Uther is delusional if he thinks that's a treat, it's entirely unfair."

Gaius pulled her arm in warning of her speaking treason, "I'm not sure fairness comes into it," he paused, "you never know, it might be fun."

"Oh yes," drawled Merlyn, her eyes raking over the sketch in her book, "mucking out his horses is going to be so amusing. Do you know that I have to help him dress? What grown man can't put a shirt on," she angrily ranted.

"You should be careful how you speak Merlyn, anyone could hear you."

"I'm just saying, you should see my list of duties."

"Everyone has duties, even Arthur," Gaius replied, amusement lacing his tone.

"It must be so difficult for him, the girls, the glory," Merlyn rolled her eyes, "people to dress him."

Gaius simply shook his head and the two sat in silence as he helped his apprentice stretch out her achy joints. Merlyn was only in her chambers a short while, whilst she studied from her etiquette book, had a short and cold bath and then changed into her favourite blue gown, the corset laced tight around her sore ribs. After she washed up, she had to gather Arthur's armour from the training room where he had simply thrown it untidily onto a nearby table, and struggled with the load of metal to Guinevere's house where she lived with her father, Tom.

Gwen had been kind enough to offer Merlyn help with her knowledge of armour, her father was the most well-known blacksmith of Camelot and therefore, Gwen knew everything there was to know. The two maid-servants had grown close in their two weeks together and Merlyn consistently found herself needing the girl or missing her when they weren't together.

Helping Merlyn don Arthur's armour that was far too large for her frame, Guinevere named each piece clearly, her delicate fingers tapped lightly on Merlyn's armour clad arm and chest. "You've got the voiders on your arms, and the hauberk goes on your chest," she left the other girl for a moment, returning with Arthur's helmet in her hands. "I hope you know what to do with the helmet," Gwen joked, her smile bright.

"No actually, it was the only piece I hadn't quite figured out," Merlyn laughed, taking it from Gwen and placing it gently on her head, "I think I know why Arthur's so dim," she said, eyes twinkling.

"Oh?"

"This thing is so tight, it has to be squeezing his brain," Guinevere burst into laughter at Merlyn's blatantly rude comment - admiring the girls fearlessness for bad-mouthing the entire royal party.

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It was the first day of the tournament and many swordsmen from all over the land had arrived to participate in the prestigious event in order to gain the luxury of attending the royal feast with the Lady Morgana amongst other prizes.

The arena where the competitors would compete was as crowded as ever, the stands were filled with spectators and even when the seats were all filled, they found room around the training space in order to watch the bloodthirsty battles with good vantage points. As well as the excited commoners, those participating in the tournament were congesting around the recovery tents - some chatting rather friendly like, others stood alone simply practising their movements and some were sparring, the sounds of their clashing swords cutting right through the atmosphere.

Whilst the other common competitors mingled, the Prince was having his armour clasped onto his body by Merlyn, only the prince having that luxury. Arthur himself was dressed in his flexible, leather under armour, a crimson tunic that held the Pendragon crest and a majority of his armour, Merlyn still trying to attach the voiders and gorget.

"You do know the tournament starts today?" Arthur queried, sarcasm thick in his tone as he watched Merlyn struggle with the stiff clasps.

She threw him a glare, peering up at him through her eyelashes as her anger and frustration mounted up, she'd been attempting the clasp for almost five minutes, "do you want to do it yourself?" Merlyn snarled, finally slamming it down with a sharp clang.

"If I had done it myself it would've taken half the time," he retorted, eyes alight with fire as the two went back and forth, Merlyn already having told him she'd have no respect for his titles until he'd earned it.

Simply rolling her eyes, which was an action Merlyn found herself performing a lot more often since she'd met the prince, she moved to his other side and checked the other clasps of his differing pieces of armour.

"Are you nervous?" Merlyn asked, her soft knuckles brushing Arthur's somewhat exposed neck as she brushed him down.

His breath hitched as he answered, "I don't get nervous," his tone breathy.

Merlyn let out a soft chuckle, "you sound nervous, why are you lying to me," she teased, like he had been earlier.

"I don't get nervous," he repeated, tone hardening, not that Merlyn noticed.

"I mean- I thought everyone got nervous, but not the prince of Camelot."

"Will you shut up Merlyn!" Arthur yelled, his voice was loud and sharp with authority oozing from every syllable, his words wearing anger as a coat as he shouted in Merlyn's face. She swallowed back the hurtful retort that was on her lips and pulled away from him, only to grab his cloak and tie it loosely around his neck. Her face was hard as stone and she refused to let the prince see just how much he'd frightened her, the look of his face was practically feral and in that moment she could've sworn he wanted to run her through where she stood. Merlyn stepped away from him, eyes to the ground.

Neither made a move to say anything, but both shifted in the uncomfortable atmosphere that had been created, Merlyn too afraid she'd say something absolutely murderous and end up in the dungeons and Arthur was too full of pride. He hadn't meant to lose control like that, he was hardly ever nervous for tournaments but something about this time was different, something made him want to win all the more he just couldn't put his finger on it.

Merlyn had a snarl on her lips as she fought back the urge to shout back, to fight against the unnecessary embarrassment he made of her. So instead, she walked to the table that held his armour, her hands grabbed his helmet and thrust it underneath his arm roughly before sheathing his sword onto his belt.

Before leaving, Arthur opened and closed his mouth several times as though he was going to say something to Merlyn but he seemed to decide against it, pride once again settling down on his shoulders.

"Good luck," was all Merlyn offered, "sire," she added passive-aggressively, turning on her heel and walking to Gaius who stood by the gates of the arena.

It wasn't long after Merlyn had stormed away from the prince that each of the competitors that were in the tournament began their walk into the arena, Arthur amongst them. Uther stood in front of them too, crown atop his head and an expensive cloak had been draped over his shoulders and he was flanked by two guards.

"Knights of the realm, it's a great honour to welcome you to a tournament at Camelot. Over the next three days, you will come to put your bravery to the test, your skills as warriors, and of course, to challenge the reigning champion, my son, Prince Arthur. Only one can have the honour of being crowned champion, and he will receive a prize of one thousand gold pieces," monologued Uther and there was a collective gasp from the crowd as one of the knights behind him opened a chest of gold. "It is in combat that we learn a knight's true nature, whether he is indeed a warrior or a coward. The tournament begins!"

Despite their small spat, Merlyn found herself watching anxiously as Arthur was revealed to be the first to fight. His opponent was a rather small, scrawny man but the way he wielded the weight of the longsword alongside his shield had Merlyn worriedly taking her bottom lip between her teeth. However, it appeared she'd worked herself up for no reason as Arthur beat the man without a drop of blood being spilled, finally finishing the fight by stuffing his chainmail clad elbow into his gut and then face. The battle must've only lasted two or three minutes but Merlyn found herself rooting for him despite his arrogance and felt a sense of pride when those scoring the fights placed a miniature Pendragon crest upon the board.

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During Knight Valiant's fight (or so she had heard one of the commoners mutter), Arthur had left the nearest recovery tent after a checkup and stood by Merlyn's side with his helmet in hand.

"Knight Valiant looks handy with a sword," stated Merlyn in an attempt to clear the air between them, she hadn't realised how much stress would be weighing on Arthur's shoulders from Uther and the people of Camelot, not until Gaius had scolded her.

Arthur gave her a shocked glance, eyebrows furrowed but he chose not to look a gift horse in the mouth, "yes, he does."

As they spoke of the lethal knight in bright yellow, he exited the arena with a snide grin on his face and his fist shaking in the air as he cheered for himself along with the crowd. Once again, Merlyn rolled her eyes and turned to Arthur, her nimble fingers working on taking off his armour gently, she and Arthur exchanged small talk until they were rudely interrupted by Valiant.

"May I offer my congratulations on your victories today?" The knight said, his voice was smug and sickly, there was something about him that made Merlyn recoil, unconsciously stepping closer to Arthur as she pretended not to notice Valiant.

Arthur smirked, "likewise."

Merlyn snorted at Valiant's self satisfied smirk, not even bothering to hide her amusement.

"I see you still need to teach your servant some manners," he snarked, his eyes meeting Merlyn's as he practically dared her to disrespect him in front of her 'master'.

"Excuse me?" Spat Merlyn, throwing her hands away from Arthur's armour to fully face the pretentious knight.

"You dare talk back to your superiors, girl?" Valiant scoffed, shield in hand and Arthur had to hide a laugh behind his gloved hand at the fire the yellow knight had awoken in Merlyn.

"I don't see any of my superiors here," she began, flicking her lengthy locks over her shoulder, the curls smacking Arthur in the chest, "and you certainly aren't."

"You dare address me like that when your master is right there?"

Merlyn laughed outright and Arthur made no move to stop her, "he's not my master and he certainly doesn't control me, nor do you."

Valiant appeared taken aback and the fury in his eyes matched Merlyn's but he knew he'd receive no support from the prince and chose to bow out. "I hope to see you at the reception this evening sire," he gave a swift bow and threw a filthy look towards Merlyn.

The young sorceress turned herself back to Arthur, her cheeks flushed with anger, "what a creep."

"Agreed," said Arthur, letting out a snort of laughter, "are you alright?"

"I'm fine, he just riled me is all," she explained, a small grin on her face at the concern he showed. Without being fully aware of the reason, Merlyn felt her cheeks darken at the toothy smile he sent her.

She just knew he was going to be hard work.

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