Title: The Victor

Show: Merlin

Characters/Pairings: Gwen/Arthur

Rating: R

Word Count: 493

Disclaimer: I obviously don't own, because if I did… I would force the stunt people to teach me mad sword fighting skills.

Summary: Written for the prompt of "Arthur/Gwen - sword fighting"… And that's all I'm saying ;)

A/N: Just a quick-and-dirty fic written for the prompt

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Gwen pointed her sword under the prince's chin.

Arthur couldn't help but swallow thickly at the threatening sensation of the sharp steel point against his throat.

"On your knees," she ordered coldly.

He obeyed, slowly and carefully dropping down. His eyes couldn't help but flicker to his right – an action she did not miss.

"Don't even think about it."

Gwen moved over just enough to kick his lost weapon further away, her own sword not losing contact with his throat.

"Does this mean I am your prisoner now?"

---

"You're even better now with some formal training under your belt," he said proudly. "Well, as formal as we can get." He gestured to the forest around them.

They had been forced to practice here, unable to do it in the plain sight of the training fields. That would have certainly raised some eyebrows. Because what need would a handmaid have of fighting skills and why of all people would it be the prince who was helping her?

"Just think. One day I might even be better than you."

"I seriously doubt that."

Gwen cocked her head to one side and raised her eyebrows. He knew that look.

"I just mean… I have been formally trained since I was very young and practice every day. You have not been allowed the same experience." He hoped that worked. He has been trying to keep his arrogance in check.

Gwen nodded, his answer sufficient for the mean time.

"How about a fair fight?"

Now it was Arthur's turn to raise his eyebrows.

"What would be a better measure of my progress? It would help with the teaching process."

"Alright," he answered tapping the flat of his sword against his boot. "Why don't we make it interesting? The victor can do with the other whatever they wish."

Gwen couldn't help but return his cheeky grin and raised her sword.

"I accept."

---

"Strip," she ordered.

Arthur fought back his smile as he pulled his shirt off. After which he sat back, tugging at his boots and then his pants.

Once he was done, Gwen stuck her sword in the ground, keeping an eye on him as she undressed.

She picked up his shirt and twisted it by its sleeves until it resembled a thick rope, sinking down onto his lap. He remained obediently still while she guided his hands behind his back, tying them with the shirt.

"Now if you don't struggle and just do what I say, I won't have to kill you," she whispered teasingly in his ear.

Then she locked her eyes on him, staring him down with equal threat and lust as she sheathed herself on him.

Arthur watched her as she rode him, admiring the determination and ferocity on her face. They were the same looks she'd had when they'd been dueling minutes ago. The same looks that made him decide that letting Guinevere win this time might definitely be worth it.