Author's Note: Some of you might recognize this from another story I'm writing called Sacrifice is Forever. If you haven't seen it, check it out. I turned this into a one shot for this set of stories. As always, please read and review.

Arthur's strange and unorthodox relationship with his servant was a popular topic of discussion among the citizens of Camelot. Arthur knew this, but had never felt any real compulsion to explain himself. His friendship with Merlin was the only thing he could call his own and was one of the few things that brought him happiness. The young man was Arthur's opposite in almost every way, fire to his water, hot to his cold, but their differences only strengthened their bond.

Of course, it hadn't always been that way. The first few months of their companionship had been nothing but rocky and Arthur had put Merlin in the stocks more times than any other man or woman in Camelot. He was fairly certain that his servant still held the record and would continue to do so for many years to come. They had fought relentlessly, argued tirelessly, and insulted one another in ways that had made the serving girls blush. He still remembered Merlin's first day with almost painful clarity. It hadn't been one of his proudest moments. Partly because it was the first time Merlin humbled him in front of his knights and partly because he'd deserved to be humbled.

Breakfast that morning was the first time Arthur had seen his servant since he'd been assigned his position in the royal household two days previous. Arthur had never been a morning person, but he'd woken up with a pounding headache because he'd drank too much wine the night before and was in a fouler mood than usual. He certainly hadn't been in the mood for talkative servants and he definitely hadn't been prepared for the radiant ball of sunshine that was Merlin in the morning.

He'd woken to the sound of clanging metal and a pained curse from the corner of his bedroom. He looked up blearily only to be greeted by his servant's sheepish face as he hurriedly tried to straighten the armor he'd knocked to the floor. Arthur groaned and his head flopped back on the pillow in annoyance.

"I hoped you wouldn't show up," he said, his eyes closing against the bright light that filtered through his window.

"What kind of servant would I be if I didn't show up?" Merlin asked cheerily.

"The nonexistent kind," Arthur snapped.

"Arthur," Merlin sighed. "I've—"

"Sire. You address me properly, Merlin. Sire. My lord if you want to get creative."

"Fine, but only if you call me your highness."

Arthur's eyes snapped open and he looked over at his new servant incredulously. Merlin stared calmly back at him, lips quirked in amusement. There was no fear in his servant's eyes, no concern that he'd overstepped his boundaries. Arthur didn't know if this was because Merlin wasn't aware he had boundaries or if he simply didn't care. Arthur strongly expected the latter and he pushed himself up on his elbows so he could see the young man better.

"Do you have a death wish?" the prince asked quietly.

"Not particularly."

"Are you sure about that? The way you speak to me seems to suggest otherwise."

"Are you saying you're going to kill me? Honestly, Arthur, that is no way for our relationship to begin."

"We have no relationship, Merlin. You are my servant and I am your master."

"You aren't my master," Merlin said calmly, but Arthur could hear an undercurrent of anger in his voice. "I CHOSE to work for you. I wasn't forced into it."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why would you choose to work for me, Merlin? I don't even like you."

"The feeling is mutual," Merlin grimaced. "But, for the moment I have nothing better to do."

"Nothing better to do," Arthur repeated slowly, getting to his feet. "Did you just recently become a complete idiot or is it a life long trait?"

"It comes and goes. An unfortunate affliction I suppose, but I'd rather be an idiot some of the time than a prat all of the time. How difficult life must be for you."

"You can't speak to me like that," Arthur growled, throwing his tunic over his head.

"You keep telling me that, but you have yet to give me a reason not to."

"Merlin," Arthur hissed, taking a threatening step towards his new servant, his hands balled into fists. Merlin smoothly sidestepped him, gesturing towards the table.

"Breakfast," he said smugly. "And tea to help with your headache."

"I don't have a headache," Arthur lied even as he winced from the morning sun streaming into his chambers. He sat down at the table and looked over the assorted food Merlin had brought him. He had to grudgingly admit it wasn't half-bad.

"Right," Merlin snorted. "You don't have a headache and your pained grimace is completely normal. Tell me, sire, did your face recently start looking like a constipated rat or is it a life long trait?"

Arthur had a spoonful of honey and mash in his mouth when his servant's words registered in his brain. He spluttered in disbelief, choking on the mash, and coughing it out all over his chin and tunic. Merlin stared at him, eyes wide, biting his lip and trying hard not to smile. Arthur glared at him. Normally his cold blue eyes worked wonders on the servants, but Merlin seemed immune to his steely anger. If anything the young man was more amused than before.

"That's a very good look for you, sire. It really reflects your inner beauty. You should wear it more—" Arthur threw his bowl of mash at the servant's face and smiled triumphantly when it found its mark. He never missed.

The bowl clattered to the floor and Merlin stood silently, dripping sticky mash, attempting to wipe it from his eyes and nose. Arthur stood, pushed him to the side, and made his way over to his dressing shade, picking another tunic up from the floor as he went.

"I think I'll go without breakfast for today," Arthur said maliciously. "Clean this mess up and meet me outside in the training yard. You'll be a perfect dummy for my knights to practice their swordsmanship on." Arthur clapped the young man on the shoulder on his way out and grinned. "Remember, Merlin, you chose to work for me. You can leave any time you want to."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Merlin replied stonily.

Arthur had left the castle in high spirits. He was all but certain he'd seen the last of his annoying new servant. There were few who had the courage to go up against Arthur and though Merlin had showed more guts than any man previous he would be a fool to continue. What was he trying to prove? What could he possibly have to gain from warring with the crown prince? No, Merlin would give up his hopeless quest to make Arthur look like an idiot. He had to because if he continued Arthur would ruin him, would destroy him so completely that there would be no choice but for him to return to whatever hole in the ground he'd come from.

He donned his armor with a smile and strode confidently out onto the training field where his knights were waiting. There was laughter coming from the small group of men and Arthur wondered what inspired such amusement from the normally solemn men. Even Sir Leon was smiling and he was the most serious man Arthur had ever met. He moved closer and his jaw dropped in horror as he heard a voice he'd hoped to never hear again. Merlin's voice. Merlin was making his knights laugh. His knights. Arthur felt unreasonable fury surge through him and the urge to pummel his servant within an inch of his life became stronger than ever before.

"Merlin," Arthur hissed, pushing through the circle and grabbing Merlin's tunic in his fist. "What the hell are you doing out here?"

"You told me to be here," Merlin replied calmly, looking at Arthur's fists without worry or fear.

"You weren't actually supposed to show up," Arthur growled, squeezing his fists tighter.

"How was I supposed to know that?" Merlin asked. "You need to work on your communication skills, sire. I am not a mind reader, you know."

Arthur's men snorted in amusement, but grew silent when their prince glared at them with murder in his eyes. Arthur roughly pushed his servant aside and angrily pulled a crossbow from the weapon rack built into the stone of the courtyard.

"We'll be practicing with bows today," Arthur told his men, meeting Merlin's gaze with a cocky smirk. His servant rolled his eyes and Arthur frowned. "I want each of you to line up with a target and try to hit as many bulls-eyes as you can. I'll demonstrate."

Arthur brought his bow up and took a deep breath. He could see Merlin out of the corner of his eye watching him with intense curiosity and Arthur felt a mild pang of guilt in his stomach at what he was about to do. He shook the feeling away with another deep breath and grit his teeth as he fired the bow. The arrow hit its mark with a satisfying thud and Arthur grinned as he looked back at his knights for their approval.

"There will be a reward," Arthur continued. "To the knight that hits the bulls-eye the most." He looked towards Merlin and gestured with his head. "Go get my arrow, Merlin, and be quick about it."

Merlin sighed, but trudged towards the target some thirty paces away. Arthur silently reloaded his bow and aimed it at the earth just ahead of his servant's feet. He fired and felt the familiar surge of adrenaline rush through him. The bolt speared the dirt inches from Merlin's toes and the young man jumped back in surprise.

"Sorry," Arthur called gleefully. "That was a complete accident, Merlin. My finger just slipped."

His servant looked back at him disdainfully. Arthur shrugged then gestured him forward again with his fingers. Merlin didn't move. He crossed his arms, planted his feet, and scowled. The surge of adrenaline in Arthur's stomach grew into a frenzy at the man's stubbornness.

"What are you doing?" Arthur called to him, already fitting another bolt in his bow.

"You did that on purpose," Merlin said quietly, pointing down at the arrow at his feet.

"So?" Arthur snorted. "I told you to do something, Merlin. Now do it."

"Do it yourself," Merlin told him, narrowing his eyes.

Arthur's jaw dropped open. He hadn't foreseen these particular turn of events. Never in his life had a servant stood up for themself. He'd seen tears, he'd seen anger, he'd seen humiliation, but defiance? This was something entirely new to him and any enjoyment he might have found in the situation was suddenly taken from him. He knew his knights were watching the sudden power-play occurring between the two of them and the need to make Merlin look like a fool intensified.

"I don't think you understand what being a servant means, Merlin," Arthur said raising the bow and aiming it at the edges of Merlin's toes.

"Enlighten me then," Merlin replied disdainfully.

"I say jump," Arthur growled with his finger on the trigger. "And you say how high."

Arthur released another arrow and it landed even closer than the first. Merlin flinched, but didn't move. The young prince smirked and shook his head. His words from the market still rung true. Merlin was an idiot, but at least he was a brave one.

"You didn't say how high," Arthur called to the young man, looking around at his knights for approval. He was not met with their customary smiles and he frowned.

What was it about Merlin that instantly made people like him? Why didn't anyone see what Arthur saw when dealing with the man? He was disrespectful, nosey, idiotic, clumsy, and downright strange so why was it that people seemed to gravitate towards him? True, Merlin had saved his life, but he would have handled the situation with the witch just fine on his own. He would have moved out of the way of the dagger eventually, but Merlin had to jump in and be the hero.

"Stop it, Arthur," Merlin told him quietly. "I've had enough."

"Why? It's funny."

"No, it isn't," Merlin snapped. "It's childish and cruel."

"Say please," Arthur replied with a devilish grin, loading the bow once more.

"No."

"Manners, Merlin. Obviously your pig of a mother never bothered to teach you any so I suppose I'll have to."

Arthur wasn't sure what happened next. He'd raised the bow and aimed it so that the arrow would whiz by his servant's side with an inch to spare, but he hadn't planned on Merlin taking an angry step towards him. He supposed that insulting his mother was taking his feud with Merlin a bit too far. After all, if somebody had spoken of his mother in such a manner Arthur would have torn them apart.

Still, Merlin hadn't moved earlier so there was no reason to think he would now. Only he did move and Arthur's plan to humiliate his servant nearly turned disastrous. If he'd been the tiniest bit off in his calculations he could have killed the young man. Arthur was already turning towards his knights when he heard Merlin cry out in pain. His head whipped back around at the sound and he watched in horror as Merlin pressed a hand to his side. There was no arrow through his flesh, but that didn't mean anything. It could have easily grazed him and while such wounds were rarely serious they could be painful and deep enough to need medical attention.

"Merlin," Arthur called nervously, moving towards his servant's side. "Stop fooling around. No one believes that you're actually hurt. I didn't even come close to—" Arthur broke off when Merlin's hand came away scarlet and the bile rose in his throat. He'd hit him. He'd actually hit him.

There would be no punishment for Arthur. At least not one forced upon him. Uther treated servants in the same manner as most of the nobles of Camelot did. They were expendable and their word meant very little. Even if Arthur did kill Merlin his father would caution him for any future servants, but little more. Arthur often treated his servants with disrespect, but he never wished any of them real harm. And certainly not at his own hand.

"You idiot," Arthur said softly, pulling Merlin's hand aside to look at the wound. "You weren't supposed to move."

"You insulted my mother," Merlin hissed, jerking away from him. "You can insult me all you want, Arthur Pendragon, but you leave my mother alone. She's a better person than you'll ever be."

"It was an accident," Arthur began, looking nervously at his knights who were watching him like a hawk. "I didn't think that—"

"That's your problem," Merlin said loudly. "You don't think about anyone but yourself. You're selfish, arrogant, and a bully. You want to know why I took this job, Arthur?" Arthur was about to tell him no. No, he didn't want to know, but Merlin never gave him the chance. "I took it because I thought that you could be more than you are now. I thought maybe you could be a great man one day and I wanted to be a part of that, but now I see how foolish I was. Some people change, Arthur, but not you."

"Merlin," Arthur began, flushing in embarrassment. "You can't talk to me—"

"I'll talk to you in the manner you deserve," Merlin snapped back. "Just because you're born a prince it doesn't mean you've earned the right to treat people however you wish. Without the actions that go with the word you're nothing more than a title, Arthur."

Merlin shook his head in disgust, strode towards the target and ripped the arrow from its center. His eyes were hard and Arthur was once again struck by some unfamiliar sensation. There was something about the boy that called to Arthur like a voice upon the wind. He disliked him, true enough, but all the dislike in the world couldn't hide the fact that being near Merlin made Arthur see differently, see his world in a better light. Arthur met his gaze even as the young man dropped the arrow he'd been ordered to fetch at his feet.

"How high?" Merlin said quietly.

The young man met his eyes for a moment longer then turned and walked back across the courtyard. Arthur watched him go, stunned into silence. He couldn't think of anyone, other than his father, that had ever shamed him so thoroughly. He couldn't bear to turn around and look at his knights, the approval he'd sought from them earlier turned sour and stale in Merlin's wake. He dismissed them with a silent wave of his hand and refused to turn around until he'd heard the last of them file across the courtyard, whispering to one another beneath their breath.

Arthur stood there for a long time, attempting to work through everything Merlin had said to him. Nothing more than a title. Was that true? He had the respect of a prince, the looks of a prince, but did he have the character? Ten years ago he would have answered yes without hesitation, but times had changed. Arthur had changed. He was no longer the boy he'd once been. He'd grown up, as all boys must do, but he'd lost something along the way.

He tried to remember the last time the servants had smiled at him like they had when he was a boy. The last time he'd been greeted in the streets with the enthusiasm he remembered receiving as a child. Once more, he tried to remember the last time one of his servants remained with him for more than a few months at a time. He'd always assumed that they had been unfit for the rigorous schedule a prince held. It was only now that he began to wonder if they were more fit than he'd originally thought, but had fled because Arthur drove them away.

He'd played a few tricks, had a few laughs, but always under the assumption that the servants knew he was only playing. He'd never planned on being cruel…or had he? Was the surge of adrenaline he felt when he teased and taunted his servants enjoyment at their pain? Was he really that kind of monster?

Arthur shook his head and looked in the direction he knew his most recent servant had headed. He wasn't that kind of man. He knew it and would just have to prove it to Merlin. He would show the silly little man that he was much more than a title. He was the crown prince of Camelot. He would have to apologize, which would be painful. And he would have to keep Merlin on as his servant which would be downright torture, but if it proved the young man wrong then perhaps it would all be worth it.

Arthur made his way to Gaius's chambers and knocked on the door. He heard shuffling inside and his stomach tied itself into anxious little knots. He frowned at the emotion and shook it away, refusing to be nervous in front of Merlin. He expected Gaius to open the door, but it was Merlin who stood across the threshold. His smile was open and friendly until he realized who his visitor was, but as soon as he saw Arthur's face his expression turned guarded and unwelcoming.

"Merlin," Arthur heard Gaius call from inside. "Who is it?"

"It's Prince Prat," Merlin mumbled.

Arthur sighed. Merlin wasn't going to make apologizing easy.

"Who?" Gaius shouted.

"Prince Arthur," Merlin said, clearer and louder than before.

"Arthur," Gaius said quietly, his expression guarded as his face peered around the doorframe. Merlin must have told him about the training fiasco and the old man was convinced Arthur was there to clap Merlin in chains. "What brings you here, sire?"

"I've come to speak to Merlin," Arthur said softly.

"He's not here at the moment," Merlin replied stonily, trying to shut the door in Arthur's face.

Arthur stopped it with his foot, but was surprised when he felt Merlin put his weight against it and push.

"Merlin," Gaius crowed. "You can't slam the door in the prince's face!"

"Watch me," Merlin grunted as he attempted to push the door closed. Arthur merely braced his knee against it and slipped his foot inside. Arthur felt the pressure on the door ease and pulled his foot out, thinking the young man had given up on his endeavor of keeping him from entering. It wasn't until he'd slipped his fingers through the crack of the door that he learned otherwise.

Merlin, determined in his quest to keep Arthur as far away from him as possible, stepped back from the door only to shove himself back against it with all his strength. He didn't see Arthur's fingers curl around the edges of the doorframe, but he heard the crunch of wood against bone when it connected with them.

Arthur cursed as pain exploded through his hand and he yanked it back even as the door bounced off his knuckles. The rough wood tore through his skin and blood bubbled up from the small gashes across the edges of his fingers. He could tell by how they throbbed that they weren't terribly deep, but he knew that they would sting tremendously and he wondered if any of his fingers had been broken.

The door slowly creaked open and Arthur glanced up at his servant. Merlin had gone sheet white and was staring at Arthur as if he were about to throw up. Arthur shambled a few feet away from him just to be safe.

"Did I just—" Merlin began breathlessly.

"Yes," Arthur hissed, holding his fingers.

"You're bleeding," Merlin said quietly.

"Really?" Arthur snapped. "I hadn't noticed, Merlin. What would I do without your keen sense of observation?"

"Arthur," Gaius said, studying the two of them in mild exasperation. "Come inside and let me take a look at that. I've already bandaged one wound today. I might as well take care of another."

"Arthur," Merlin was saying as Gaius led him towards a chair. "I'm sorry. I didn't even see your hand in the door. I thought—"

"You thought that shutting the door in the face of royalty was a good idea," Arthur said, rolling his eyes. "I can't hold you accountable, Merlin."

"Really?" Merlin said slowly, disbelief etched on his face. "You aren't mad?"

"Being angry at you for your idiocy would be like you being angry at me for how good looking I am," Arthur shrugged. "We're just born that way, Merlin."

Merlin frowned and Arthur sighed. Apparently they weren't ready to insult one another just yet. Merlin was still too furious with him. He felt bad about slamming his fingers in the door, but that didn't mean the servant had forgiven Arthur yet.

"How's your side?" Arthur inquired softly when Gaius slipped from the room to locate some balm he'd created earlier that day for swelling.

"Fine," Merlin replied briskly. "It wasn't that deep. Gaius fixed me up."

"I came here to say that I'm sorry," Arthur sighed.

"Come again?"

"I said that I'm sorry."

"You may have to say that a little bit louder because I have a hard time—"

"Merlin."

"Sorry, but it's not everyday you have a prince apologize to you."

"Don't let it go to your head. It won't be happening again."

"Why?" Merlin asked him after a moment.

"Why what?"

"Why apologize to me? I'm the servant, you're the master, remember? So why?"

"Because…because you were right, Merlin. I wasn't acting very princely."

"No. You weren't."

"And because you made me realize that I haven't been acting very nicely."

"No. You haven't."

"You don't have to agree with me, you know. You can disagree anytime you like. You're good at that."

"I thought you wanted me to be sycophantic," Merlin shrugged. "Yes, sire. No, sire. That sort of thing."

"I don't want you to be anything," Arthur laughed. "I never wanted you as a servant, Merlin. I never asked for it."

"Neither did I, Arthur. Being your servant was the last thing I wanted to do."

"Then why accept?"

"A chance."

"A chance?" Arthur asked. "What does that mean?"

"I accepted because there is a chance you're actually a decent man, Arthur. I accepted because there is a chance you'll be something great. I accepted because there is a chance that one day you and I will be friends."

"Doubtful," Arthur snorted.

"Which part?"

"You and I being friends."

"Then I guess I'll have to settle for the other two."

"You're not quitting then?"

"I never said I was."

"No, I suppose you didn't, but I thought—"

"Arthur," Merlin said seriously. "I won't quit. No matter what you do, no matter how hard you try…I won't quit. I'm here, Arthur Pendragon. Whether you like it or not."

"Merlin," Arthur said after a moment. "You're a very strange man."

"Sire," Merlin snorted. "You have no idea."