They weren't lying when they said Percival was strong, thought Merlin, grunting with effort. It was true, Percival was strong, but he could see the beads of sweat racing down the knight's face, and he could feel it on his hand, which was almost twice as big as his.

It was actually pretty comic how nobody could actually see Merlin's hand as it was covered with Percival's. It looked like the knight was having a seizure of sorts, instead of an arm wrestle. But nobody laughed. In fact, they were waiting with bated breath, with the bets on who would win getting higher and higher as they watched this battle of Percival's pure strength against Merlin's sheer determination to prove that he was just like the rest of them. And no one knew who would win.

Merlin gasped as his hand hit the wooden table. Had it been any other servant, there would have been cheers, and drink raised for the knight who had put the servant in his place. But it wasn't any other servant. It was Merlin. The man who had stood up to Arthur on his first day in Camelot, and from that day on had fought by his side. And they had all thought him weak, someone who needes his knight friends to take care of him. Well, they wouldn't be thinking that again anytime soon.

And because it was Merlin, he didn't hang his head in shame as all the other servants would have. Instead, he stood up with an almost satisfied expression on his face. Satisfied with losing. Only Merlin. Then he strode across the tavern with his head held high, and went outside to where the King of Camelot was waiting for him. Watching them walk back to the castle side by side, the King and the servant, they were all deadly silent. Even Gwaine!

Merlin lost, but from that day on the knights-and everyone else-never looked at him the same way again.

And when the time came for his magic to be revealed, they all stood by him, the servant and sorcerer who dared to challenge what was wrong, and were proud to call him their friend.