Too soon Gaius was gently shaking Merlin awake in the hour before dawn, dusty gray light barely illuminating the old man's worried face. "It's time, my boy," he told him solemnly. "How are you feeling?"

To be truthful Merlin felt like he'd just woken up after falling under a stampede of horses. "It might be a little hard to move," he conceded.

"Well, hopefully you'll get over it," came a voice from the door, and Merlin craned his head to see Arthur there, fully dressed in armor and carrying another set that was likely Merlin's. "We've got a duel to win."

"Not before I check the condition of his injuries, sire," Gaius warned sternly, and after poking and prodding at Merlin's back had him slowly roll to expose his chest.

It wasn't a pretty sight. Purple, blue, even black abrasions. Of course, bruises always got worse after the first day (which is what Merlin tried to console himself with) but Gaius's face seemed to grow graver by the minute. "Sire," he turned to Arthur slowly, speaking as solemn as Merlin had ever heard him. "Sire, I fear for Merlin's life. If he so much as twists the wrong way, there could be devastating consequences."

Arthur's face looked as pale as Merlin felt himself. "I'm sorry, Gaius. I don't know what else to do—"

"Protect him, Arthur, with your life."

Gaius said it with such conviction Merlin couldn't find it in himself to protest. Neither could Arthur, it would seem.

"I . . . you have my word," the prince said, swallowing. After Gaius nods, accepting it, Arthur deflates. "My father doesn't know about this. If we're in luck, it will stay that way. I swear I'll defeat him just like I've always done, and this will be over soon." He turned to look at Merlin near the end, nodding, and Merlin nodded back. He trusted him (the Gods help him); after all, maybe it was time Arthur pulled some weight in the savior category of their relationship.

It required both Arthur and Leon to get him down the steps, across the mostly-empty courtyard and finally to the training grounds where the duel would take place. By then Merlin felt very doubtful he could stand upright in the amount of armor they intended to shackle him with, much less keep a sword in his hands (and when they passed a grinning Sir Quite-Stupid, Merlin was quite sure the knight thought the same).

But he'd have to get through Arthur first, right?

"Stay behind me," the very same told him sternly, as if that couldn't be assumed, and tightened the full-body breastplate enough that Merlin winced.

"Yes, Sire!" Merlin said (in a voice as jaunting as Arthur's usually was), but the prince didn't so much as smile.

"Remember all the attacks you sat on your lazy bum for, or played 'hide and seek?'" he said, not waiting for Merlin's answer. "That's not going to work this time around. He wants revenge, and not just from me. You can't go running, or drop your sword. In a duel that's the same effect as surrendering to your own death."

"Stay behind you, don't run, don't drop the sword. Anything else?" Merlin raised an eyebrow.

"Yes," Arthur replied very seriously. "Don't be an idiot."

(Well, easier said than done for them both.)

Leon, being First Knight, would supervise as judge over the duel. Apparently the rules were the same even despite adding him into the fray; Leon just called him "Prince Arthur's second" and no one batted an eye. Of course, some of Lord Sundre's knights looked a little smug at the spectacle of Arthur supporting Merlin as they walked onto the field, so they likely knew what was really going on.

At least someone did.

Sire Quite-Stupid was lazily leaning against his sword, which he'd planted on the ground. His little animal eyes gleamed at Merlin as he struggled to walk, looking horribly pleased with himself. Merlin felt like singing his little tune just out of vengeance.

"Sir Kytstulbet," Arthur nodded when they stopped, a few paces away. The knight's smile grew nasty(er), not even deigning to reply.

"Sir Knight. My Lord," Leon acknowledged them. "This duel is to settle grievances on both sides. And all will leave with their honor intact."

If they had any to begin with, Merlin couldn't help but thinking as Sir Quite-stupid swung his sword in a fashion similar to Arthur's fancy wrist swing (except, though Merlin would never admit it out loud, Arthur could actually do it well).

"The duel will end at first blood," Leon continued, adding particular emphasis. But Merlin had doubts the knight even heard him. He held his broad shoulders back arrogantly, smirking at them. His beady eyes kept flickering back and forth between Merlin and Arthur; it was more than a little unnerving.

"Do you acquiesce?"

"I do."

"'Yes."

"You may engage," Leon finished. Arthur pulled his sword from its scabbard in one swift movement, stepping closer, and the duel began.

It was stressful, mostly because Arthur and Sir Quite-stupid weren't doing much actual fighting. The knight was cool, almost as calm and collected as he'd acted during their first duel, the one where he and Arthur were evenly matched. Now it was two to one, but Merlin was quite sure that only lowered Arthur's chances.

A few skirmishes, occasional clashes of their swords, but for the most part all the two were doing was circling one another (with Merlin awkwardly trying to stay behind Arthur as he moved).

The first real fight happened too quick for Merlin to anticipate. One moment, Sir Quite-stupid was circling clockwise, Arthur doing the same opposite him and Merlin trying to keep up. The next, and the knight suddenly lunged the opposite way, swinging his sword toward Merlin.

Arthur intercepted it with his. Merlin stumbled backward, landing on his arse with a jarring impact to his rib cage. Meanwhile, the two swordsmen fought almost toe to toe, the knight making lunges and swipes and swings that Arthur spent most of his energy blocking. He took a step backward, then another to avoid the knight's sweeping strike to the middle. The next swing Arthur again intercepted with his sword, and with a shove pushed Sir Quite-stupid a few feet back.

Merlin realized his hands had tensed, fists full of grass (maybe he could throw it in Quite-stupid's face as a distraction?) and heart racing. He tried getting back on his feet as Arthur took initiative and began offensively striking at the knight—with his injuries, it was slow-going.

By the time Merlin managed it the two swordsmen had paused, back to just the occasional swipe and dodge as they circled a lot closer this time. Arthur had effectively distracted Quite-stupid away from Merlin.

Or perhaps not.

The knight quickly ducked under Arthur's sword and kicked him in the shin, momentarily making the prince stumble. It wasn't enough time to really gain an advantage on Arthur, but it was enough time to turn around and reach Merlin, slam the flat of his sword right against Merlin's side.

"AHHHHH," Merlin cried out, falling to a knee and dropping his sword to clutch his pulsing side.

His injured lungs were burning while he breathed faster (out of fear more than exertion) as Sir Quite-stupid swung a hard kick towards his stomach. Merlin managed to raise his arms in time, the hard boot slamming against them and knocking him the rest of the way over.

Ouch.

He was on his back, literally without a defense, but Sir Quite-stupid just moved back to fight as Arthur came upon him, laughing loudly. Arthur for his part was red with rage, fighting ten times harder and putting much more strength into his offense. His eyes, however, betrayed a different emotion, one that Merlin had not often if ever seen on the man's face in the two years he'd watched him fight. Fear.

Suddenly Sir Quite-stupid's scheme became crystal clear. (Sir Quite-evil.)

Merlin got into a sitting position with an embarrassing amount of effort, intent on making sure the evil plan failed. Miserably. As miserably as Sir Quite-stupid's unfortunate face.

"HEY! Hey, Sir Knight. What was your name again?" Merlin asked, and both Arthur and his opponent jolted in surprise, whipping their heads to him. "Sir Kitten-butt, was it? Or Quick-pee? Maybe Quack-sire?"

The knight growled, taking a step towards Merlin—and there was Arthur's moment. Ever the tactician, he took it, an under-sweep of his sword that the knight barely saw in time to block.

"Oh, that's right! Sir Quite-stupid, wasn't it?" Merlin called, making sure the knight would stay distracted.

Lord Sundre's other knights began crying protests of "Foul play!" and "Disgrace, mockery of a duel—!" but Leon said above them, "There is nothing in the knight's code against verbal weaponry."

Verbal weaponry. Huh. That gave Merlin even more inspiration.

"Dull, hound-eyed lecher!" he taunted when Sir Quite-stupid had managed to get Arthur on the defensive again. The knight roared, swinging at Arthur with all his strength, and the prince deflected the blow so Sir Quite-stupid had to stagger a bit to recover. "Son of a pigeon-eating whore!"

Arthur shot him a look, but Merlin wasn't about to stop (time to give the pig a taste of his own medicine). That purple vein was bulging almost straight off of Sir Quite-stupid's forehead. Merlin started singing his made-up song again, and the knights of Camelot couldn't hide their laughter. It was going perfectly.

(Well, it was.)

"He won't be safe from me," the knight growled, low enough Merlin hardly understood it. "Just try to keep your precious servant hidden. I'll cut him into pieces. I'll flay the skin from his bone."

Arthur ignored him at first, the two parrying and blocking and defending without pause now. But then Sir Quite-stupid tried a new tactic as their swords clashed between them, face to face. "I'll ask your father for a whipping. Or at least a few fingers. He wouldn't begrudge me that, would he?"

The problem was, Merlin had no idea if the knight was wrong or not. It seemed Arthur didn't either.

The fear had been put back into the prince's eyes, and Merlin started feeling nervous again. Especially when he saw how aggressive Arthur was starting to fight—more than just a duel of first blood. More like this was a duel to the death.

Merlin kept up his string of insults, but Sir Quite-stupid must have been too intent on the fight. He didn't hardly flinch, not even at "You shite-eating bag of maggots!" (Merlin was pretty proud of that one. He thought it deserved some notice.) It seemed the colorful phrases actually managed to aggravate Arthur almost just as much, too, and he sent Merlin a few warning looks. Against his better judgment, Merlin stopped.

The entire training field was silent except for the sound of metal on metal, of harsh breath and shuffling feet. It seemed like there could be no end. Arthur knew Sir Quite-stupid's fighting style, his tactics, his arrogance and short temper. But Sir Quite-stupid knew Arthur's fighting style and tactics as well—and more importantly, his weakness.

Every time the knight would make so much as the slightest step towards Merlin, the prince doubled his offense. Forgot his own defense, leaving himself vulnerable to attack.

Merlin wouldn't throw out insults, but he had to do something. Something ended up being repeating the same silly tune again, over and over for as long as his lungs would allow. It was probably his fifth round when he was finally cut off: "Sally hey, olde lady have you heard of the song? Of a knight with a snoutish, burlish face, gone wrong? His breath was of rot, his odor of goat, known as SIR QUITE-STUPID 'FORE HIS NAME—"

Sir Quite-stupid managed to shove Arthur to the ground, and immediately turned to Merlin (who, being the idiot he is, just realized he never picked his sword back up) and grinned such a feral smile it was more a baring of teeth.

"First blood," he said in a taunt, drawing his sword back. Merlin stared and stared and in one second thought three things: first, he was getting beheaded by this pig? How underwhelming; second, who was going to wake Arthur's idiot self up every morning now? He pitied the poor soul; and third, MAGIC MAGIC USE YOUR DAMNED MAGIC MERLIN DO YOU WANT TO LIVE—

Luckily that thought never completed itself before Arthur came up out of nowhere, stabbing his blade in between Sir Quite-stupid's armour, straight through a lapse in the chain mail and angled at the heart.

The knight choked, staggered after Arthur quickly wrenched the blade back, and fell to his knees. He gurgled for a few seconds, probably on his own blood, before slumping onto his side. Beady eyes staring, unseeing. Merlin stared back, heart beating so loud he hardly heard Arthur's next words.

"First blood," the prince said quietly. He raised his dripping sword for all to see.


A/N: Next chapter will be our last! I hope you all enjoyed the fight, I know I certainly enjoyed writing it :D Let me know what you think!

Guest: First of all, thank you so much for taking the time to review every chapter so far! It's great to hear people's opinions. I agree that Sir Quite-stupid isn't much of a knight, especially compared to the knights of Camelot. He's in especially a horrid mood lately, considering he's not used to losing EVER :) I hope you enjoyed the conclusion of his tirade, and thanks again for your comments!