The sun was far into its westerly track across the sky by the time Merlin reappeared from wherever he had been lurking. He came striding across the training grounds, mindful of the various dangers that accompanied Arthur's playground and took up his usual spot in the small nook that provided some protection from the raging sun. From his vantage point he could see the entire field and everyone coming on or off of it and while he had never had any issues here he was glad of the chance to make his job of protecting Arthur easier.

Today, however, he wanted to protect Arthur very little. In fact, he was so disinclined to protect Arthur he toyed with the idea of telling Morgana to do as she pleased. She would get no opposition from him, that was for sure.

As usual, the thought of Uther's ward brought a frown to his face and he sighed. He had wished so often that things had been different. He replayed different scenes over and over again in his mind, trying to find where he had gone wrong. Gaius had told him, many times in fact, that he shouldn't blame himself, but somehow he felt that Morgana was his responsibility. Perhaps if he had confided in her as she had confided in him than things would be different.

However, as he knew all too well, the past was the past and no amount of wishing could change that. He would have to make due with the cards fate had dealt him, regardless of how cruel they may seem. His only option was to stop Morgana and her plans, but he was finding it extremely difficult to maintain constant vigilance on her and protect Arthur from the many other magical beings that wanted to kill him.

Merlin snorted. What was it about Arthur that made people he'd never even met want to throttle him? Sure, Merlin thought of throttling Arthur at least once a day, but he felt he had earned that privilege. He would never understand how people could hate a man that hadn't even wronged them yet.

He was jarred from his thoughts by Arthur's triumphant cry. He looked on with pity at the young knight who had attempted to best him and got laughter and a mouthful of dirt for his efforts. The knight rose to his feet and looked dejectedly at the young prince. It was clear the young knight idolized him, but Arthur, as blind as ever, didn't notice.

"Did you see that," he called to the watching men. "It wasn't even a fair fight. He was beaten before he had even begun."

It was only then that Arthur looked over and found Merlin in his chosen location. Merlin was glaring at him and Arthur choked down the rest of the jokes he had been about to make at the young knight's expense.

"Alright, Merlin," he asked, not really expecting an answer.

True to form, Merlin pursed his lips and refused to reply. Merlin really was an expert at the silent treatment and if Arthur was honest with himself, it was the worst sort of punishment his friend could give him. He would prefer it if Merlin yelled and called him names, but Merlin only did that when he was happy or mildly annoyed. No, when Merlin was angry, truly angry, he would shut himself off from Arthur tighter than a clam shell and no amount of prodding would get him to open up again until he was good and ready to. Arthur hated it.

"Fine," he snapped at his men, his frustration sharpening his words. "I want half of you running sword drills and the other half practicing your aim with the bow. Leon, you take group one and I will school these pansies on how to shoot an arrow."

The veteran knight smiled slightly and quietly collected his group and began his drills. Arthur often wondered how he stayed as calm as he did. Even when his father had married the troll, Leon had been the face of serenity. Odd man, that one; a great one, to be sure, but odd.

Merlin watched as Arthur led his group of men to the row of targets arranged on the outside corner of the practice field. Arthur split the men into two rows, each row alternating between the two men and shooting an arrow apiece. Arthur, of course, had an entire target to himself. He loaded his bow with expert fingers and was barely finished pulling the string back before he loosed his arrow. It smacked into the target with a satisfying thunk and Merlin watched as Arthur's preening smile took over the prats face.

An idea began to form in Merlin's mind and while he knew he should listen to his inner Gaius and not use his gifts for revenge, getting even was far too tempting. He rose from his perch and made his way slowly to where Arthur was reloading his bow, weaving in and out of the knights.

"Come to apologize have you," Arthur mumbled, concentrating on his bow.

"Apologize," Merlin scoffed quietly. "To a prat like you? Hardly. I've come to make a little wager with you."

Arthur paused, the arrow he had been about to load sticking out from between his teeth. Merlin was reminded of a dog with a bone who had just been told there was an even bigger treat waiting for him. Arthur never turned down a challenge.

"A bet," Arthur asked, gently removing the arrow from his mouth. "I didn't think you were the gambling type, Merlin."

"I'm not," Merlin shrugged. "But its hardly considered gambling if you can't lose."

This certainly peeked Arthur's interest, as Merlin had known it would. He stared incredulously at his servant for a long moment, not even realizing most of his men had stopped to watch the exchange.

The men knew that the relationship between the prince and his servant was highly unorthodox, but hardly thought about it anymore. The sight of the two of them together was so commonplace that the knights would be more likely to take notice if Merlin was missing from his prince's side. In fact, most of them found Merlin's antics to be rather amusing, though they would never admit this to the prince. They found it oddly refreshing that Arthur could, in fact, be humbled like a normal human being and no one could do it as well as Merlin. So, any chance they had to watch Merlin make a mortal out of the prince was one they relished.

"What could you possibly do so well that you can't lose," Arthur asked his manservant, his cocky smile growing by the minute. "Besides fall over, that is."

Merlin took the jibe gracefully knowing that Arthur's time would come.

"I bet that I can make more arrows hit the bullseye than you can,"

Merlin answered watching in amusement as Arthur's eyebrows went up in shock.

There was silence for a long moment while Arthur tried to figure out if Merlin was playing a prank on him. His servant only stared at him expectantly and with a jolt of surprise Arthur realized the man was being entirely serious.

"Merlin," Arthur whispered to his friend, attempting to give the young man and easier, less embarrassing way out. "Think this through for a moment. How could you, the idiot, beat me?"

"Why don't you stop acting like such a girl and find out," came Merlin's heated reply.

Arthur was not amused. Not only had he said something so blatantly disrespectful in front of men he was supposed to lead, but he had stolen Arthur's signature insult. Arthur decided that he was not going to spare his manservant's pride, no matter what he had done earlier.

"You've got a deal," Arthur snapped. "What are the conditions?"

"If I win you get to muck out the stables for a week," Merlin replied, trying not to sound too confident lest he give himself away.

"And if I win?"

"Whatever you think to be a proper prize."

"A day in the stocks."

"Done."

The two men shook hands, both confident in their chances of winning. Merlin, of course, had no intention of playing fair and if it had been anyone else but Arthur, this may have sullied his victory, but as it was Merlin was ready to beat Arthur at his own game.