Percival didn't know how he made it. Most others were a little baffled. But he had walked back to Camelot, carrying Gwaine. There had been various positions, putting Gwaine - he was not a body - over his shoulder, then carrying him in his arms, making a litter to drag him, until he met a patrol, who could not make Percival relinquish his burden.
Instead they stayed with him, they sent word to the queen, who sent the only man who could even hope to get Percival to stop carrying.
And instead Leon carried Gwaine for a while, until they came into sight of Camelot and Percival almost committed murder to get Gwaine back.
Then Gwaine had been given a decent funeral, Gwen had seen to that. She had also had the sense to give it no fanfare.
Percival was alone. He was the last of the knights.
Leon was there, but Leon didn't count. He had grown up in Camelot, had served the royal family for longer than just Arthur's reign, and he knew Gwen. Percival had the suspicion that Leon loved Gwen, and for much longer than Arthur ever had.
None of that mattered. No grief could be outwardly uttered while they had so much to do. Camelot went on, the round table, with empty chairs, carried on. More people joined, new knights rose and Bayard, Rodor, Godwyn and Annis all send their condolences and Gwen took them, replying politely but clearly stating that she was not about to share her grief however friendly she wanted to be with them.
Then the empty chairs became a problem. No one wanted to sit in them, but they needed new people. An idle comment from one of the new knights... 'make more chairs'... spurred on a change in the hall. The chairs that had belonged to Elyan and Gwaine had been part of that. They had been placed to one side, along with the chairs of other knights who had been lost. Percival had then taken an axe and destroyed the one that had belonged to Mordred and had gone away to come back with another he had commissioned, which he carefully placed at the side of the hall with the others.
"That's Lancelot's."
Gwen had nodded and not commented.
The only chair that had not been moved was the king's. Nor would it ever be filled. Gwen kept it, she needed it, touching the arm on occasion as if that could give her strength. Percival didn't deride such a notion, his hand strayed to the chain around his neck. The one that had been Gwaine's.
No one dared to touch the tentative, twitchy grief that had settled around Camelot. The king declared dead but his body never brought home. Until one day someone violated that trust, as they walked into the council chamber Gwen felt herself pushed, as Leon stepped in front of her. The guards had drawn their swords but she pushed at Leon to look at what was happening.
"Get up from there! That is the king's chair, you have no right be there."
"Maybe so," the voice drawled. "But do not come any further, I will not allow weapons here."
Gwen pushed harder and looked at the hooded figure sat on Arthur's chair. Her heart clenched, no one else would have dared sit there but the figure didn't look right, the shoulders didn't sit in the correct way, and they were not broad enough, she had only seen such a slim, but confident, frame on one person. She pushed Leon again to clear her path to the table and as she did so the stranger pushed his hood back to reveal no stranger at all.
"Hello Gwen."
Leon's waving ordered the guards down and Gwen stepped forward, happy for a moment and then as she stopped, and thought, the emotion fell.
"If you're here... then..."
Merlin nodded. "I tried, but I did not make it to Avalon in time. Arthur had done what destiny required of him, to leave seems to have ensured it's occurrence."
"You could have come sooner," she said.
"I could not," Merlin said.
Gwen frowned in confusion, she turned her head to look at the others, most intently Gaius, who had eased his way through to get close to her. However, her frown deepened as Gaius made no move towards Merlin, and Merlin only looked at Gaius and nodded, rather than the usual exuberant greeting she expected.
"What about Arthur's body? It should be consecrated in the royal crypt."
"No, it needs to remain at Avalon. At the time of Albion's greatest need, Arthur will return."
"When is that?" Leon said. Merlin shrugged. Leon stepped forward, around the table. "With Mordred and Morgana still unaccounted for...?"
"Arthur killed Mordred on the battlefield and Morgana is dealt with."
"What do you mean dealt with? She is a high priestess..."
"Who cannot survive a blade forged in a dragon's breath. It was only because the one Morgana gave Mordred was made by a weak, young, dragon that the chip caught in Arthur's chest and killed him. I have had mine for longer, and it was made by something far stronger."
"The only other dragon..."
"I released from the cave below Camelot. He and I have an understanding."
"What about the other dragon?" Gwen said. "That is still loose."
"She has her own concerns, and the last dragonlord will prevent her from hurting anyone."
"Balinor was the last dragonlord."
"My father was not," Merlin said.
"You could have told us," Percival snapped. Merlin looked away from Gwen and turned his head slowly, as if was painful.
"Could I really? Tell you that I have had magic since I ever came to Camelot, before you were there."
"Gwaine already knew. You have done him a disservice before you even start," Percival snapped.
Merlin's face flickered with pain. "I'm sorry."
"But you can still help us Merlin. With what we need to do. With what Arthur wanted."
By the time Gwen had made that plea Merlin appeared to be long gone.