An idea that came out on a lazy Saturday afternoon.

Do let me know what you think of this, all opinions welcome.

Pendragon Manor was a war zone. The servants had been told to leave. There was chaos. And there was no more allegiance among friends…there was no more friendship, so to speak. Only a thin thread of alliance held them together. Too much was at stake.

The manor house and the surrounding grounds were quiet; the silence an antithesis of the violence that has occurred and will no doubt occur again. The sun shines brightly, a perfect day for picnic; the sky blue without the blemish of a cloud. The wind picks up a piece of paper, the last remaining remnant of peaceful times. And perhaps the very trigger of the madness that followed soon after the words were written on it. The paper dropped back to the grass, on a lawn that was once manicured and pristine and now bearing the witness of the violence that had taken place; trampled flowerbeds, upturned pots and garden furniture. As well as the sofa from the library; its plush, red upholstery soaking wet, looking out of place, as it should be, next to the fountain, in the middle of the driveway that led towards the front door of the manor.

And peering from the back of the sofa, breathing deeply, his body tensed, ready for anything, senses on high alert, was Merlin. His eyes held the fear of the man who was being hunted. His eyes caught sight of movement; the curtain on one of the windows in the library facing the driveway swayed in the breeze, lifting gently, and Arthur came into view, his eyes locked on to Merlin. The worry was palpable in his eyes and his demeanour.

There was nothing he could do for Merlin. Merlin had to escape from his pursuers himself.

Merlin was their last hope.

Two hours ago…

Arthur made them breakfast. A massive fry up that was quite uncharacteristic of him (he was all protein drinks and carefully calculated calories at times) and no suggestion or coercion getting them all into the gym before or after breakfast. It was not until Mordred, standing in the kitchen, holding his plate and looking suspiciously at him and the food on his plate that Arthur groaned, relented and gave a speech about how thankful he was surrounded by good friends and people he loved…his family. Morgana was first to tell to shut up. She was also the first to hug him. Guinevere called him a big squishy teddy bear and kissed him and sausages would have been thrown at them if Percival had not cried out in horror at the atrocity of food being wasted.

They had their breakfast outside in the back garden; taking their time, just talking and relaxing. Nobody bothered with the plates and the dishes and cups when they were done, the day was just too beautiful to bother with things like cleaning up and doing the dishes. No one remembers what they were talking about, but all they all remember the screams from over the wall. All of them scrambled to their feet and rushed to wall; Percival gave Arthur a boost, Lance to Gwaine. Arthur and Gwaine scrambled up the wall and surveyed the gardens of the neighbouring manor house and saw what had triggered such a scream.

They reported what they saw to the rest of them. The decision was made not long after.

After all, what could possibly go wrong…

In turned out, everything could.

They dispersed into groups, Lance and Arthur leading a group each. They synced their watches at the lawn it was the last they saw each other as group. It soon became…chaos.

Lance, Morgana, Leon, Gwaine and Mordred stayed outside while Arthur, Merlin, Guinevere, Percival and Elyan got the house. At least, that was the initial plan. But all exits into the house were guarded and Percival was the first to go down. Arthur and Merlin heard his shouts to the back of the house, where they were trying to enter via a garden door. Elyan covered for them and just as he was about to enter the house, he went down. Evil laughter cackled from the tree line not far from the garden door.

Once they were inside the house, things began to look better for Arthur and Merlin…until they realised that Guinevere was still outside. It was Merlin who came up with the idea of using the sofa as a shield. Arthur wanted to protest, say it was a stupid plan, but his fiancée was out there and he decided to risk it, hoping the sheer absurdity of using a sofa as a shield would confuse his pursuers. After some debate, they decided on the two-seater sofa from the library because it was light enough for them to carry.

They went to the library to get the sofa, staying well away from the windows. A blood – curdling scream from the front of the house, somewhere near the vicinity of the rock gardens confirmed that Morgana had been taken down. Arthur looked at Merlin. A smile broke his severe expression, matching Merlin's grin. Morgana going down meant Guinevere still had a chance. They moved even more quickly after.

The sofa was flung out of the window and as expected, the assault on it was instantaneous. There were confused shouts and swearing and Arthur and Merlin seized the moment to dash out of the library through the broken window and towards the rock garden. Of course, they were spotted, but they reached cover, and Guinevere, before they could be attacked. Guinevere hugged them both and told them what she knew.

The rock was against the side wall of the property so, they were safe from any assault from the back. Rocky outcrops shielded attacks from the front of the house. They were but a few paces away from the library, their entry into the house would be through the window they broke when they flung the sofa out.

It was decided Arthur would go first. He ran a few paces, dropped to the ground, rolled a couple of times, almost rolled into a potted plant…fortune was on his side as he got through into the library without any incident.

Guinevere was next and she ran all the way to the window sans the theatrics of Arthur.

It was Merlin's turn. He took a deep breathy, his body tensed, ready for anything, senses on high alert…

Merlin stood up. It was now or never.

A soft sound behind him alerted him of a presence. The sound was deliberate. Merlin closed his eyes as he felt the cool nuzzle pressing against the back of his head.

"Game over, Merlin."

Mordred's voice was but a whisper as he stepped up behind Merlin.

"Arthur and Guinevere are still about," Merlin remarked, not turning around.

"Taking you down would mean diminishing half of Arthur's strength," another voice spoke.

This time Merlin did react. He turned to his left and saw Gwaine sauntering towards them, his weapon trained on Merlin.

Merlin was outraged. His own boyfriend…

Of course, there were no relationships once the chaos started. And Merlin was wrong to assume…

Mordred was going to take him down. That much Merlin knew. He looked at Gwaine.

"Love you," Merlin said.

And that was when the game changed.

And everything happened in the blink of an eye.

Gwaine's aim went from Merlin to Mordred.

Gwaine shot Mordred.

Mordred screamed.

More screams from inside the house…Lance howling in frustrated rage.

And in one fluid motion, Merlin disarmed Mordred…

And...

Aimed and took a shot at Gwaine.

A damp spot stained the dark brown of Gwaine's chest.

"Bastards," Mordred said. It was meant for Gwaine, for betraying him. And for Merlin who betrayed Gwaine.

Merlin just clicked his tongue and walked away, a cocky swagger in his walk. Arthur was marching Lance out, his weapon trained to the back of Lance's head. They met at the midway point between the driveway and the front lawn. Guinevere was right behind Arthur.

"It's over, Lance," Merlin told him.

And Lance, always quiet and patient, the very epitome of the goodness in any man, snarled at Merlin.

"Don't make us do it," Arthur said, his voice steady.

"I don't need your pity," Lance remarked, defiant in both tone and demeanour.

"What do you think?" Arthur asked, looking at Merlin.

It was the question Merlin had been dreading. They have to do what has to be done.

One more shot to end it all.

"At least have the decency to face me when you do it, Arthur…"

And then was when Guinevere lost her patience and grabbed Arthur's weapon and shot Lance. She was aiming for the temple, but she shot right into his ears.

Lance yelled.

"There you go," Guinevere said, handing the gun back to Arthur, who was looking at his wife with open mouth amazement. "Can we go in now? Downton Abbey catch-up marathon is about to start."

"And I am not going to miss it," Percival called out from the porch.

"I've made sandwiches and iced tea." Leon's voice came from further within the house.

"So, we win, yeah? Arthur asked.

"Obviously," Merlin said, grinning.

"Nice going with Gwaine," Arthur said, smiling with his approval.

"He's easy."

"Yes. That's what we've heard," Mordred said, as he walked towards them, very much in a sulking mode. He was a sore loser. But perhaps not as much as Lance, whose competitive streak was his bane. Once that came out, Lance was a different man.

Gwaine clicked his tongue and dismissed Mordred's words with a wave. He was sauntering towards Merlin, a lazy smile on his face and without any remorse whatsoever. None for betraying his team and none for Merlin turning on him.

"Quickest round of battle this time, I think," Gwaine said.

"And the most destructive," Arthur said, eyeing his red sofa. And the broken library window. "Perhaps I had been hasty regarding the plans with the sofa."

"I would have done the same," Lance said, joining them, only slightly sulky and rubbing his ears. "That was a good call, throwing the sofa. Distracting and wasteful, but well, there you go."

Arthur nodded, still surveying the damage.

"And talking about distracting and wasteful…" Lance continued, looking at Gwaine. "You…." and found himself unable to articulate. He threw his hands up and made angry noises and then walked away. "I'm never going to have you in my team again!" he called out. It was rather disconcerting to see a man who was the very epitome of patience and calm turn into the opposite of who he was on a daily basis whenever they have competitive sports or activities of any kind. Times like that they wonder which is the real Lance; the calm, patient man who makes the time and effort to rescue hedgehogs or tortoises that he finds in the middle of the road, or the man who is capable of kicking his opponent on the shins to get the ball. Even if the opponent was Merlin. Or, surprisingly, Guinevere. And when Evil Lance (that's what they call this ultra competitive version of their friend) comes out, it always gives them a chill whenever they see the look on Morgana's face. It's almost as of she knows what the word 'competition' would do to her fiance and relishes it. It was just about the only time when Lance and Morgana in a committed relationship (eight years and counting) makes sense. Both were secret psychopaths. That's what Gwaine says anyway.

"How about just putting me and Merlin in the same team then?" Gwaine called back, as they followed Lance into the house.

"Of course," Morgana's voice was all ice. "You and Merlin. In the same team. Going at it like rabbits while the rest of us battle to stay in the game." She was walking towards them, bits of garden in her hair and murder in her eyes. Merlin and Gwaine stopped to let Morgana catch up with them, but then, she did not stop. She nudged in between them, pointedly ignored them and walked straight into the house. She was probably looking for Lance so that they could rethink their strategies.

"Anyone would think this was a life and death matter," Gwaine said, as they entered the house. "They do realize it's just a game, don't they?"

"Shut your mouth!" Leon was standing at the hallway, his outraged tampered (unfortunately) by the huge platter of sandwich in his hand. "How dare you call it just a game? It's more than that."

"Mate, it's a merry chase around the house with a water gun," Gwaine pointed out. "It is a game."

Leon merely narrowed his eyes at Gwaine. He shook his head and went into the rec room, where the gang was assembled for Downton Abbey. They were in various stages of drenched; Elyan was the worst. Lance was still rubbing his ears and Morgana curled up next to him sulking. Gwaine and Merlin were welcomed into the room with cheers and jeers. Mordred was handing out towels. He threw Merlin and Gwaine's at them with more force than was necessary.

"We have decided that the next time we are not going to include the both of you in our teams," Arthur said, as he picked a sandwich from the platter they were passing around.

Merlin, who was in the midst of making himself comfortable in the space between an armchair and Mordred, paused in his actions and looked at Arthur. And then at the rest of them.

"We just can't risk it anymore," Lance said, looking just a little bit distracted. Morgana was holding his hands in an effort to stop him from rubbing his ears. "The both of you are a liability."

Gwaine, seated at the armchair, was silent. Merlin caught his gaze and blinked, his lips tilting southwards.

"Fine," Gwaine said, shaking his head.

"Besides, you said it was just a game," Percival said, waving his sandwich about as he spoke.

Gwaine stood up and held out a hand for Merlin. Merlin smiled and took it.

"Yes," Gwaine said, as he and Merlin made their way to the door. "Just a game."

That was when Merlin pulled the door shut, locking them all in the rec room. When Merlin and Gwaine turned around, they both had a water pistol in each hand.

"And now, the game has another team," Merlin said, and then began his assault.

This time, the battle raged on until night.

Percival was the winner. This time. By then they had forgotten who was on whose team and after fifteen minutes of arguments, they decided to let Percival be the individual winner (though Lance and Morgana were secretly not letting go that Percival was in their team, which of course meant Arthur has to protest and really, it's a vicious cycle).

Another battle had been scheduled in the coming Saturday, beginning a little earlier than it did today, because it was mutually agreed they would stop during Doctor Who. Until then, they were friends and brothers and sisters and cousins, husbands and wives.

But only until Saturday morning.

The water pistol battle rages on, without a clear winning team in sight.

-THE END-