“You need to keep your sword arm up,” Arthur said to Merlin, helping him up from the ground with a hand. They both stared at it a moment before breaking apart. Arthur touched Merlin’s shoulder, letting his finger slip under the collar. Merlin shivered.

“Why is competition so important to you anyway?” Merlin inquired breathlessly.

Arthur’s breath tickled, he stood so close. “Conquer. Protect. Win. Claim the prize.”

“Prize?”

“Oh yes, my idiot, my prize.” Eyes flashed possessively downwards.

“My?”

“Mine. Do you dispute the will of the Prince?” Arthur smirked.

Arthur beamed. “Who me? No sire.”

“About bloody time.”