A/N—A few years ago, my beloved dog passed away. It was one of the most painful experiences of my life, and since then, I have wanted to write about the enduring bond between people and their dogs. I was not ready to face the pain until now, but what better way to express my feelings than to write about a knight of Camelot experiencing the same love, loss, and eventual healing?

Also, so there is no (or less!) confusion, this story takes place about ten years after Camlann, and in my head canon, Percival is now twenty-nine years old. Arthur, Lancelot, and Elyan have passed, but Gwaine lives!

Further, I really struggled with rating this story. Most of it is very tame, with a little bit of language and a few vague references to sex. However, there is one scene with sexual intimacy that I think is pretty mild and does not quite hit an "M" rating, but I don't want anyone to feel they have been duped into reading a sex scene that they don't want to. Thus, after much consideration, I have rated this story a "T+", but I will give an additional brief warning before the chapter with the sex scene. The last thing I want to do is make people uncomfortable. I want people to enjoy what they read.

Thank you for stopping by.

Love Endures

Chapter One: Luned

Luned was dying, and this was the worst day of Sir Percival's life.

The worst day should have been when Percival's parents perished at the hands of King Cenred, but that happened long ago when Percival had been little more than a boy, and he had blocked out the pain associated with that loss. But seeing Luned, his precious dog of eleven years, draped across his lap in bed as she took shallow, raspy breaths, was destroying him.

"She's just a dog. Why is she so special to you?" Percival had heard that question many times over the years.

He would shrug and chuckle, knowing they could never understand. Friendships had come and gone, women had come and gone, even King Arthur had come and gone. Luned, however, remained by Percival's side through it all. Every morning, the massive animal greeted Percival with furious tail wags and affectionate licks. It was as if she said: "Good morning! I love you! You're the best person in all of Camelot!"

Luned was what people referred to as a common dog, meaning she was a mix of breeds. She was large, the height of a small pony, with a tawny, short coat, and bright yellow eyes. Luned was missing her left ear, and all that remained of her tail was a mere stump. She must have been engaged in quite the altercation before she found her way to Percival.

Luned whined in distress as she adjusted her position in Percival's lap, and he wondered if his heart might bleed. "Girl, it's all right. I'm here. Just relax."

Percival had given up on trying to keep Luned off his bed in the castle years ago. It was her favorite place, especially when Percival was in it, even though she took up more than half the space. Now, in her final hours or moments, Percival stroked her belly as the sun poured in through the tall window.

Even with mellow sunshine warming her fur and the softness of the bed, Luned was suffering. Percival was being selfish, keeping her alive when the simple act of breathing pained her, but he simply could not bring himself to hasten her passing by his own hand. He promised himself if she grew worse, he would ask for help to bring about her end.

Percival heaved a deep sigh. "My Luned. You do recall how we met?"

Her tail thumped in slow approval.

Gently, he kissed the top of her head. "I remember, too."

How could one forget such a startling introduction?

XXXX

Eleven years ago, at age eighteen, Percival was a new knight and had been stationed at the northernmost garrison in Camelot, along with his fellow knights, Gwaine, Leon, Lancelot, and Elyan. It had been a mild autumn evening, and the men enjoyed a supper of roast duck and ale outside before a cheerful pit fire. As Percival took a bite of his drumstick, a massive dog blasted out of the forest and tore toward him. The beast's jowls flapped as it flew forward, displaying an impressive set of deadly teeth. Percival sat there, dumbstruck, as the other men drew their swords.

The beast advanced, deftly sidestepping the armed knights. The dog ran straight to Percival, and he braced himself for an attack. He imagined the animal's wicked teeth sinking into his neck, and his friends would not be able to stop the canine without accidentally cleaving Percival in two.

The dog came to an abrupt halt. Gently, the animal plucked the roast drumstick from Percival's hand and gobbled it in three bites, bones and all. After letting out a long, loud belch, the dog lowered itself to the ground and rolled over, exposing her belly, begging for it to be rubbed. She was missing an ear and most of her tail, jumping with fleas, marred with scratches, and her ribs jutted out, yet all she wanted was a little attention and some food.

"Gods, my heart almost stopped." Breathing a sigh of relief, Gwaine sheathed his weapon and approached as Percival scratched the dog's belly. "Poor thing's quite ugly."

"What?" Percival frowned, now stroking the dog's side. "No, she's not. She's been hurt is all."

"Sounds like someone is in love." Elyan chuckled, but Percival ignored him.

"I'll feed her a proper meal and clean her wounds," said Percival. "Then she'll be on her way."

He did not mean those words as he spoke them, and Luned—the name Percival chose for the dog the following day—never left his side. When Percival and his friends returned to Camelot's castle a fortnight later, she had become part of their pack, and the knights begged King Arthur to allow her to stay.

"Sire, she's so useful!" Gwaine insisted, gesturing to Luned, who sat calmly at his feet. "We trained her to bark on command, and she sounds very fierce. She also retrieves small game for us during hunts. Luned would make a fine guard dog and hunting dog."

That was almost laughable. Luned did like barking for treats, and she sounded terrifying, but she did not possess an aggressive bone in her body. She never bit, nor growled, and she cowered when scolded, despite her imposing size. As for fetching killed game, yes, she might retrieve it, but convincing her to give it up was another matter. Regardless, she was the finest companion the men could ask for, and Percival stood in the Great Hall, breath held, awaiting an answer.

The king shrugged. "You can keep her, though we'll not have her as a guest at formal suppers."

Eventually, Luned was a guest at formal suppers, as visitors from far and wide wanted to spend time with the "gentle giant, a friend to Camelot's tallest knight, Sir Percival."

Time marched forward, and Luned had been there for it all, including Percival's close brush with marriage several years ago.

At the ripe age of twenty-five, Percival rescued a beautiful young member of the strolling players from drowning after she slipped off a rock and had fallen into the deep part of the lake. The beauty wanted to show her appreciation for the rescue, so she invited Percival to her tent in the woods, and he spent a magical evening wrapped up in her sweet body. Not the kind of man to bed a woman and walk away, he proposed marriage the very next morning.

Her long, dark hair still tousled from their tryst, the woman winced. "I had a lovely time, but I'm only passing through. And I have a husband already. Sorry."

That stunned Percival, and he swore off women. He decided his life as a knight with his wonderful dog would be enough. And it was, for years.

XXXX

Luned's low whine drew Percival back to the present. Her heart raced, and her breath came in short, choppy pants. If he had the bollocks, he could snap her neck in one clean move, and she would feel nothing, but he simply could not bring himself to do it.

In that instant, he remembered that Gaius, the elderly Court Physician, possessed draughts that would hasten a man's crossing into death if he suffered and there was no way to save him. Percival supposed such concoctions would work on dogs, too, but he could not leave Luned alone to fetch Gaius.

A moment later, a soft knock came at the door. Gwaine entered the room, a slight frown curving his lips. "How is she doing?"

"Not well. It's her time." Percival fought tears. "She's in pain. Would you stay with her while I fetch Gaius? I must ask him if he'll give her a draught to…to put her to sleep."

"Of course." Gwaine eased onto the bed and carefully positioned Luned's large head on his lap. She seemed to smile up at him. Gwaine was her second-favorite person in the known lands.

Percival bolted out the door, up several flights of stairs, and he dashed into the infirmary. Gaius sat hunched before a cauldron, absently stirring, and he started when Percival flew into the room.

"It's Luned." Percival struggled to catch his breath. "She's dying, suffering, and I need your help. I need..." Gods, he could not speak the words.

Gaius abandoned his stool, hobbled over, and rested a hand on Percival's shoulder. "I understand. Give me a few moments to mix the proper herbs, and I shall be right along."

"Thank you," Percival called over his shoulder, as he raced back to his chamber. It was a busy time of day in the castle, and the corridors swarmed with people, but he deftly sidestepped them all, ignoring greetings. He had to get back to Luned right away.

Head down, he barreled into the room. "I ran as fast as I could..." His words trailed off when he lifted his face and stared at the bed. Luned lay still, and her chest no longer rose and fell with breaths. She was dead, but Gwaine still stroked her fur.

"I am sorry, Percival. She passed a few moments after you left. I think she wanted to spare you the pain of seeing her die."

"No," whispered Percival, taking a knee beside his bed and resting his head on Luned's body. "I was supposed to be here for her."

"You were there for her from the moment you met. She could not have asked for a finer master. You were lucky to have found one another."

Gwaine slipped out of bed and helped Percival to his feet. Percival could do nothing more than stare at the lifeless body of his dearest friend. That was when the dam of grief broke, and Percival sobbed, louder than a widow who had just learned of her husband's passing. All the sorrow he'd repressed over the years boiled to the surface. He had lost so many: his family, fellow knights that he had considered family, friends, and even King Arthur, the man who had elevated Percival to knighthood and changed Percival's life forever. Percival should have been embarrassed by his body-wracking sobs, but he could not bring himself to care. Everything hurt too damn much.

Gwaine pulled Percival into a tight, protective embrace. "I am so sorry. She wasn't just a dog; she was your friend. Our friend."

Grateful that Gwaine understood, Percival did nothing more than nod.

Gaius appeared in the doorway, his brow creased with concern. "My sincere condolences, Percival. Tell me when you are ready, and I shall have her prepared for a funeral tonight."

The image of Luned's body upon the funeral pyre made fresh tears flow down Percival's cheeks. He wondered if they would ever stop.

XXXX

On that breezy autumn evening, right before dusk, more than a hundred people gathered in the castle courtyard for Luned's funeral. It shocked Percival to see so many assembled, and even his sovereign, Queen Guinevere, attended.

In the row directly in front of the pyre stood Leon and Gaius. Percival imagined Merlin would have been there, too, but his whereabouts remained unknown for many years, and King Arthur, Lancelot, and Elyan were there in spirit.

Gwaine guided Percival to his spot, the one reserved for the man closest to the deceased, for it was Percival's responsibility to light the pyre.

Gwaine stood in front of the crowd and cleared his throat. He would be the one to give the eulogy. Percival did not trust his voice.

"Luned was an important part of our lives for so long. She stood beside us during hunts and battles, entertained us on rainy days, and most of all, she offered love and loyalty." Gwaine glanced over his shoulder at her still form. "We trained her to bark on command, and did she ever sound fierce, but she would rather lick you half to death than bite. Luned did not have a mean bone in that large body of hers."

Percival nodded in agreement.

"Luned was afraid of flies, had to be held during thunderstorms, and she did not like snakes. She was fascinated by hares, and she chased them, but never caught one. Not that she would have hurt the animal; that was not in her nature.

"Luned loved roast duck, fetching sticks, and she loved every person she met, especially Percival. That love is a rare and precious thing, and it does not matter if it comes from a man or a beast. We will miss you, dear Luned." Gwaine turned and patted her side. "We will never forget you."

Gwaine took his place beside Percival and rested a hand on Percival's back as the priestess stepped forward to offer prayers. Percival blocked out the words as he glanced around. No one rolled their eyes. Not a single person appeared bored or seemed to question why a dog was receiving a full funeral. The ceremony was solemn and full of true grief, and Percival loved the people of Camelot for their compassion and for supporting him in his time of need.

Before Percival knew it, the priestess handed over the torch to light the pyre upon which Luned lay. Gods, the notion of touching the flame to the wood made Percival's stomach burn and his heart ache, but he had to let her go. He paused, took a deep breath, then lit the pyre.

Percival turned away and instead gazed at the sunset. He could not bear to face the flames.