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Merlin was having what you would call a terrible, no good, completely horrible day.
Why? Arthur decided he needed to learn how to fight. And Merlin couldn’t tell him that he already had magic to defend himself. So now he was stuck with testing out different weapons to see which best suited him.
“No,” Arthur said when Merlin fired an arrow and it hit Percival’s thankfully protected head, who was standing five feet away from the target. Merlin glared at him, or the back of his shaking head to be more specific as the prat had moved ahead to pick the arrow up, muttering about inept coordination.
“That just won’t do,” Arthur said as he took the broken spear from Merlin’s hands, who did not mean to break it, but accidents don’t just happen… accidentally. You know what he means.
Arthur dragged his hand over his face as he watched Merlin fumble with a mace and proceed to trip on and air and end up on the ground with said mace dropping on his back, pushing him further into the mud. “You’re impossible, Merlin.”
After a week of failed attempts at getting Merlin to pick a weapon, they finally found the one defense he could use without injuring himself or anyone else.
They were in the armory, with Arthur tapping his foot impatiently while Merlin took his time to decide what he would most likely fail at next. Arthur growled, throwing up his hands, and said exasperatedly, “Just pick something! Anything!”
Finally, Merlin’s eye was caught by a set of daggers that lay in a neat pile in the corner. He picked one up and was surprised at how balanced it felt in his hands. He turned around to show it to Arthur with a beaming smile, and the Prince only raised an eyebrow. They had grown to understand each other without words, and only by body language, so Merlin shrugged. Arthur rolled his eyes before walking out, Merlin right behind him.
The dagger was quite a plain one, with the hilt wrapped in a red cloth and the edge of the blade gleaming sharp. Merlin held it at the hilt, eyeing the target with mistrust, half expecting it to grow legs and run away.
“Don’t hold it like that,” Arthur reprimanded, and to Merlin’s surprise, covered his fingers with his own. “Wrap your fingers around the hilt completely and don’t point your thumb upwards.”
Arthur’s hand gently moved Merlin’s thumb from his previous position to rest on his other fingers. “If you fight with your thumb like that, you’ll end up breaking it, or spraining it. This way, your grip on the dagger is absolute.”
Arthur held up his own dagger to show him. Merlin copied his stance, and for once, it felt completely natural.
“Your grip should be tight, but just flexible enough to change it. If you hold it upward, you can reach further, but if you hold it downward, you can get in closer to swipe at the enemy,” Arthur explained, twirling the dagger from front to down, and showing him the move.
“Now remember, set your feet apart, and be relaxed.” Arthur stepped closer, nudging his feet to separate. Merlin ignored the warmth in his cheek at the closeness and did as he was told.
This went on for the entire day, with Arthur teaching him the basics of holding and maneuvering a dagger, and simple hits and moves.
The next day, once they were both in their respective armor, with a lot of pushing and pulling and accidentally hurting on Merlin’s side, they faced off for their first training. The knights stood on the edge, cheering Merlin on, which really boosted his confidence.
Without waiting, Arthur swung forward, and Merlin, on instinct, fell on his ass.
“Merlin, what the hell are you doing?!” Arthur demanded, stepping back and glaring down at him. “You need to defend yourself, not cower like a bloody rat.”
“A little warning would’ve been nice,” Merlin grumbled, getting up and brushing the dust off his pants. He got into his stance and watched Arthur roll his eyes in annoyance, holding up his dagger. “Your enemy will not give you a warning.”
The next time Arthur struck, Merlin was ready. The prince swung ahead, bringing his dagger down on Merlin, he leaped back, light on his feet, and brought his own dagger forward. Not surprisingly, Arthur had him disarmed quickly.
“Not bad,” Arthur commented and handed Merlin’s blade back to him. “Again.”
They spent the day training, and by the end of it, Merlin had managed to disarm Arthur once, and gotten himself hypothetically killed five times. It was progress. He was rewarded with a smile reserved only for him by Arthur, which did not set his nerves on fire. He celebrated it by drinking with Lancelot and Gwaine in the tavern that night and stumbling into bed alone and tired but happy with his new skill.
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Arthur divided his training schedule to include Merlin in it from then. He would wake Merlin up at dawn, much to the latter’s shock and misery, and they would train until the sun was upon their heads. Then Merlin would resume his servant duties, while Arthur would train the knights. It was a tiring schedule, but luckily, neither of them seemed to mind it much.
Overtime, Merlin’s skills improved.
One fine day, during training, Merlin observed how Arthur would leave his left side open quite many times and decided to use it to his advantage. He feinted a right jab, which the Prince blocked easily, and used the opening tapping the flat of his dagger over Arthur’s heart.
Arthur's eyes widened comically, and he stepped back with a small frown.
“What?” Merlin asked with a smirk on his lips, twirling the blade in his fingers. “You didn’t see that coming?”
“No. Good work, Merlin,” Arthur said, eyes glinting with what Merlin suspected to be pride. His smile grew when Arthur’s frown broke into a grin. He wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead and readied his stance. “Again?”
Arthur nodded and they danced in a series of concentrated attacks and defenses. Merlin swung around, looking for and creating opening wherever he could, and Arthur blocked his advance with equal finesse.
Finally, Merlin managed to knock Arthur’s blade from his hand, and in a desperate push, they stumbled to the ground. Merlin straddled the prince with his dagger on his throat, both panting heavily from the exertion. Arthur's eyes were blazing with craving, and Merlin found himself unable to look away.
“Do you yield?” he asked and was surprised with the huskiness in his tone. Arthur’s eyes darkened with desire, and Merlin felt his grip on the blade loosen just a little. Quick as lightning, Arthur had grabbed him from the waist and pushed him down, so that he was now straddling Merlin. He was holding Merlin’s wrists above his head, and due to this position, they were so close that Merlin was breathing in the same air Arthur was.
“Rule number one, Merlin,” Arthur whispered, his grip on Merlin’s wrists tightening, “Never get distracted.”
Merlin gulped and watched as Arthur’s eyes followed the movement in his throat, and back up to his lips. The prince leaned down, and Merlin felt his eyes close in anticipation as their lips touched softly. Their lips brushed ever so slightly that Merlin was sure he had imagined it. Next thing he knew, Arthur was off him, with a teasing smirk on his face, and holding Merlin’s dagger in his hand.
“What,” Merlin gasped, propping himself up on his elbows, “the hell was that you prat?”
Arthur continued to grin like a maniac, not bothering to help Merlin get up. “That was called a kiss, Merlin. I know you grew up in a small village, but surely you know what a kiss is?”
“That was barely a kiss,” Merlin scowled, a blush creeping up his neck. He pushed up, and grabbed Arthur by his wrist, dragging him towards his chambers. “I’ll show you what a kiss is.”
Arthur ended up missing his training session with the knights, and Merlin ended up having a wonderful, spectacular, completely lovely day.