A/N: This is set after my story Here Until You Die, but this is not a sequel. It is NOT necessary for you to have read the other one. If you haven't, the only thing you need to know is that this is set as if Arthur survived Camlann, and Percival knows Merlin's secret.
There is nothing else. Carry on.
He was running as fast as he could, given the circumstances, weaving in-between trees and trying to jump over protruding roots. His fastest wasn't being achieved, and there was a pretty good reason for that, a reason that just seemed to get heavier the longer he carried it.
Merlin was holding on as best as he could without choking Percival or squeezing too much around his upper chest. He was being carried piggy-back, a style of carrying which he really came to hating the more he had to endure it. The chain linking his wrists wasn't very long, so he had to be careful not to choke the larger man, which was a very difficult feat. You see, they were running (Percival was running), and jumping over roots (Percival was jumping over roots), and when one does that, normally one does not do it fluidly.
Merlin was bobbing up and down on Percival's back, sliding left or right whenever he made a sharp turn. It was hard work to squeeze with his knees enough to cease his bobbing when his lower leg was broken, but Percival's arms were gently holding him in place. The warlock had to constantly hold his arms up and out in a semi-uncomfortable angle so his transportation could properly breathe, or as properly as one could when he was carrying another person on his back.
But, alas, Merlin failed; his knees slipped, and his arms yanked, and Percival choked, lurching them to a stop as Merlin squeaked out, "Sorry!"
The knight just grunted, shifted Merlin around on his back so he could more easily hold the smaller man's legs easier. Merlin hid his face in Percival's shoulder, trying to cover up the whimper as his broken leg was jostled. Percival apologized quietly, but they didn't have the time to stop and rest; they just got away and neither knew if they were being followed or not.
Percival just kept running as fast as he could, dodging and weaving. A large stump of a broken branch blocked his way, but it wasn't too obtrusive, so he jumped suddenly and hard, slamming Merlin's skull into his. He staggered a bit, shaking his head and righting himself, before promptly falling down, tripping over a tree root that he hadn't seen. He landed on his side, but Merlin collided with the tree next to them and all his movement ceased.
Percival groaned, slipping out from between his friend's restrained arms, and sat up.
Merlin wasn't moving, and there was blood on the tree next to his head. The knight knew that wasn't good, not in the slightest, but he picked Merlin up, slipped the younger man's bound arms around his head, hoisting the smaller body onto his back, and kept running. After all, Percival was, amongst all the knights (including the king himself), the one with the most stamina. Sure, he'll tire of carrying Merlin eventually, but not yet, not until they are safely away from the enemy.
—
The sun had set, the moon had come out, and Percival would say it was nearing midnight. He had slowed to a brisk walk some time ago, but hadn't stopped. Merlin's head wound was bleeding quite a bit—he could feel it running onto his neck. He knew he needed to wrap it to slow the bleeding, so he stopped, knelt down, and slipped Merlin's arms off, setting the unconscious man gently against a tree.
There was no light around, not in the middle of the forest somewhere outside Camelot, but the moon and stars were shining brightly, illuminating objects around him. Even so, that hadn't given him enough light to really see. He'd just have to gently feel around Merlin's head for the wound, and bandage it as best as he could. There was no other option.
But suddenly, a tree rustled. Percival stiffened; there was no breeze at all, so that couldn't have been the wind.
A twig snapped, and there was more rustling. Percival froze, listening intently.
There were voices, faint, but definitely people talking, which meant there was more than one. What in the world was a group of people doing out in the woods around this time of night? And without a light! Percival peered into the darkness, watched with rapt attention for torches, but saw none, which worried him further.
They were probably trying to be inconspicuous, trying not to be seen, probably spying or sneaking, and Percival did not want to have a run-in with strangers right now. He wasn't in the nicest mood.
It was dark. He was tired, sleepy and exhausted. His back was aching from carrying Merlin for the past several hours. He had a headache from where Merlin's head had collided with his. He was hungry, thirsty, and his ribs hurt. Also, he had no idea where in the world he was. So, he was not in the mood to entertain some suspiciously acting strangers. He needed to find the nearest place for shelter and get Merlin some help.
As quietly as he could, he hoisted the boy upon his back once again, and started off.
It wasn't long before the trees thinned and some houses were visible in the distance. There was a path, just a few strides away, and Percival made for it, following it into the village. It looked vaguely familiar, maybe he had been there before, but it was dark, the moon high in the sky, so his sight was a bit impaired.
He didn't want to wake any sleeping villagers, but Merlin needed immediate help. He cried out as he ran through, hoping to wake a physician, skilled or not.
"Help! Help us! Please, someone help us!"
It worked; through the windows and curtains, candles flickered to life, and more than one door opened. He stopped, crouching down and readjusting Merlin to where the man was being carried gently in his arms, hoping to gather more sympathy so someone would be more inclined to help.
Several men were approaching, some carrying pitchforks, some knives, some torches, but Percival wasn't threatened. He wouldn't do anything that would cause those potential negative outcomes. He thought he recognized some of the approaching faces, perhaps he'd been through there before, with Arthur? Surely, this wasn't the town he had left when he and the other knights met the girl Lamia.
There were people approaching from other directions as well, and not just men, some women, too, but no children. Understandable.
He spoke again, not as loud, hoping one of the women would help.
"Please help us! My friend is injured."
A voice from behind him spoke disbelievingly, "Percival?"
That sounded like—
He turned, and sure enough, it was! His face broke out in a large grin, as did the woman standing in front of him.
"Anita!"
He couldn't believe it. Had he really wondered all the way to Ealdor? It's possible. He and Merlin had been on their way when they had been attacked; their enemy's camp mustn't have been far from where they had departed from.
Speaking of Merlin…
"Anita, please, where's Hunith?"
He had only lived in Ealdor for a couple months, but knew (from Lancelot especially) that Hunith was Merlin's mother and by far the best replacement for a physician. She had learned all she knew from Gaius, her uncle, and Lancelot had constantly been wounded while sparring with Percival, only for Hunith to be the one to patch him up. Now that he thought about it, Merlin, with all his magical escapades as a child, probably had to have been tended to quite frequently.
"She's—"
"I am here."
The woman pushed herself politely through the small gathering and, upon seeing her son unconscious, covered in blood, limp in the knight's arms, covered her gasp with a hand on her mouth. She only took a moment to take in the situation, but she knew Merlin needed her.
She quickly ushered them back to her home, telling everyone that, "My boy needs me, so you all can go back to sleep. Sorry for the interruption," and draped a clean, folded sheet over the empty table on which, not a moment later, Percival gingerly lowered Merlin onto. Hunith ran to the back of her home, needing things to heal with, bandages, a bucket for water, and some herbs which she tightly grasped in each hand.
Percival didn't need awkward introductions, like he feared would have been the case if this were any other village. He had lived here with Lancelot several years ago before King Uther died and had already been well acquainted with the healer working in front of him. He wasn't from here, no; he had lived with his family in a quaint little village like Ealdor located a two-day's journey away, until Cenred attacked, plundered, and pillaged, slaughtering most of the villagers, his friends, and his family. He alone had escaped the massacre and had fled. Lancelot had stumbled upon him in the woods and stayed with Percival in Ealdor. Since Lancelot had been well acquainted with Merlin, he had also been somewhat acquainted with Merlin's mum, and she had given them both shelter until they had built themselves their own homes.
She set the things on an empty spot on the table by Merlin's head, handed the pot to the knight, and said, "I'll need some water, please."
"Of course," he replied before sweeping from the house and around the corner. When he had placed the filled bucket on a stool by Hunith, he noticed all the candles around the room: they each had the seal of Camelot on them. The pieces weren't hard to put together, and Percival smiled down at his lap. Of course Merlin would send his mother things from his earnings. Money wasn't much use in a small village like Ealdor, but everyday, perishable household items were.
Hunith broke him out of his thoughts, "What are these on his wrists?"
The knight stood and moved toward the table, whispering, since voices can easily be heard doors down in the dead of night.
"I believe they stop his magic. Whenever he tried, they just glowed, and nothing happened."
She looked sad, and gently rubbed his wrist above the shackles with her thumb. "Oh my boy…"
But, to Percival, she asked, "What happened?"
—
He had been standing there for quite a while, the young couple in their midst fidgeting constantly. The king was taking his nice sweet time being late. Probably his servant's fault, honestly. Percival was thinking about just screwing propriety and order and going to find the king himself—never before had Arthur taken this long, been this late. Had he completely forgotten? —But, no, Percival would never do that. He had too much honor, and that went completely against his personality.
He'd let Gwaine do it.
The said knight threw his hands in the air and marched right out, yelling over his shoulder, "I'll get him!"
Percival smiled. It was like he read his mind.
Then, all heads turned to the doorway as voices progressively got louder and closer.
"—waiting forever! When will—"
The doors opened again, this time to announce the presence of the king himself (and his personal servant following right behind). As he strode toward the center, where the young couple waited, he addressed the whole court and audience, "Please, forgive my tardiness. Not even a king is perfect."
Percival had to hand it to Arthur. Every single person in the room had been overly annoyed with him, yet, humbling himself with the power of but six words instantly drove away the foul mood that had been brewing. Furthermore, not taking his rightful seat on his throne beside his queen humbled him even more and created a personal bond between him and his subjects, who had requested his ear. Arthur didn't fully believe himself worthy of the crown, but Percival and all the citizens of his kingdom saw everyday the worthiness that he couldn't see in himself. Which, perhaps, made him even more worthy.
"What can I do for you?"
The couple had arrived yesterday evening and pleaded to speak with the king on a matter most urgent, but Arthur had already retired for his evening, choosing to complete his reading of the law, recent reports, and outlying village requests, and complete his paperwork in his chambers before sleeping. So, the head knight on duty had reserved some time for a council early the next morning, earlier than the king preferred, but having been an urgent matter, the knight, a most kind-hearted gentleman, had placed the wellbeing of the citizens of Camelot and their concerns above an extra hour of sleep for the king, understanding that the people needed to be shown that the king really does care about them and wants only what's best for them. And forget the king's precious sleep—he needed to get up earlier, anyway!
Percival had done it.
The young woman bowed, and the young man beside her answered with an incline of his head, "My lord, I am Edward and this is my wife, Rosmerda. We are not from Camelot, our village lies in Cenred's territory, in Escetir." He paused.
The king answered, "I'll take that into consideration, but please continue."
The couple exchanged smiles, as if saying I knew this man was a good person, and Edward continued, "It began two weeks ago yesterday. A widower's young son never came in for his evening meal. That particular boy, being of rowdy repute, wasn't noticed to have been missing right away. You see, sire, he sometimes journeyed too far into the trees hunting with his pup and camped for the night, returning home the succeeding morning, dragging a buck behind. But he hasn't returned. He's been gone for two weeks. He may be rowdy and careless at times, but he nevertheless loved his father and helped provide for our widows. He would never stay away for so long."
"His absence has crippled your village in away, I see. You need help searching?" Arthur nodded in understanding.
The man stole a quick glance at his wife before hesitantly continuing, "Yes, Sire. Well, not quite. There's more."
Arthur crossed his arms, still standing before them, and nodded for them to continue.
"Five days later, our youngest, our daughter, went to call her brother in for evening stew. He returned, hungry after his hard work on the corn fields, but his sister did not. We were—still are—worried severely, but then, the next day, ten days ago, he never returned either.
"Sire, our village isn't wealthy, but neither are we poor. We rely on our young men to hunt deer and protect against the wolves, while our daughters gather the cotton and sew beautiful clothes. We had men to spare for a search group, three girls and two boys, all of the age of sixteen. They departed nine days ago, and none returned. Seven days ago, the widower whose son disappeared first returned from pleading with King Lot, but he refused to do anything. Our village is too far away for anything to affect him, therefore he cares nothing for us at all. Our only option was to seek and plead with you, since we are near the border of Camelot's kingdom."
Arthur stood still, thinking, and Gwen rose to stand by him. She asked, "Has there been any ransom? Anything someone would want to take these children for?"
The young lady spoke up, "No, M'lady. No notes, no specific use for them besides basic labor. We are afraid that—hoped against the idea, but…"
"Yes? What is it?"
"…slavers, my lady."
Gwen understood now, gathered the young mother in a hug as the tears in her eyes became noticeable.
Arthur addressed the man, "Have there been bandits in your woods? Any enemies at all that would desire to take them as well?"
"No, sire. The growing boys hunt thrice weekly and have reported nothing unusual."
"I see."
The throne room lapsed into silence once again. Arthur considered the choices for several long moments, then announced his ruling.
"I will send several of my good knights with you. Amongst them will be an excellent tracker. I'll decide more when the council has come to an end, however I have other matters I must speak to my advisors about, as well." He reached out and clasped the man's shoulder. "Thank you for coming to me about this. I will do what I can."
"Thank you, Sire."
Gwen released the woman to her husband, and the two exited, leaving the throne room in silence for only a split second before Gwaine spoke, "Should we make our way toward to round table, or would you like us to all remain standing up?"
"The round table, of course. I haven't been awake long enough to stand for hours."
Once everyone was properly seated at their specified positions (first, Gwaine was one off; then he was in Percival's seat; then they all realized a chair was missing, because old Sir Cadagan forgot he retired last week—Percival escorted the crippled ex-advisor back to his quarters, using his arm to brace the elderly man and to assist his walking, before another guard took over, so the knight could return to the meeting, only to find Arthur arguing to Merlin about hot goblets and cold water and how in the world is there ice in water that just stopped boiling—), the queen stood and addressed them all, silencing the bickering between her husband and his servant.
"This council has been assembled to discuss several matters, which may take a fair length of time, after which I have a meeting with lady Margaret. I may have need to leave before we have adjourned."
Arthur spoke next, "My main concern for this morning is the aftermath of Camlann. We lost a great many loyal knights and friends that day. Finally, we have completed our finding and burying them all. None are missing. I have drawn up a—um…" He searched his pockets briefly before turning around and speaking the Merlin, the boy quickly leaving to retrieve something. Arthur sat back down and continued, "I have drawn up a list of every man that fell, their position, and the compensation their families will receive. I need one of you to oversee the dispensation. Any volunteers?"
Sir Robin stood up. "I knew many of those good warriors. Sire, I volunteer."
"Thank you, Sir Robin. My servant will return shortly, I had left the reports in my chambers."
"Of course, your highness." Sir Robin sat back down.
"About Morgana's slain men. While they served our adversaries, they were still brave soldiers, doing what their duty called for. I would like to see that they are paid proper tribute. Not necessarily individual graves, as they were still our enemies, but we can't just leave their bodies for the buzzards. What should we do?"
Sir Bedivere spoke, "Morgana's done nothing with them?"
Sir William answered, "Nothing. I have recently returned from a patrol in that area. I stopped to look, and they are all still there."
Shy Sir Daniel raised his hand. Gwen smiled, she had always found the young knight somewhat adorable—that someone so big, second largest, beaten only by Percival, could be so shy and awkward, especially around women. She spoke up for him, drawing all eyes to his nervous demeanor, "Yes, Sir Daniel?"
"Thank you, m'lady. Your highness, would it be disrespectful if—no, could we—I mean to say, that we could—If Morgana's men didn't take care of it themselves—we should—well, no, it was stupid—never mind—"
"No, no, Daniel. What is it?" Arthur prodded.
"Sire… what if we burnt them, and placed a mark… It isn't as honorable as a knight's pyre, a mass burning, but the marker would be like a monument, a reminder, to honor all men that gave their lives, enemy and friendly."
The room fell into silence, only broken once Merlin returned, striding swiftly over to Arthur's side and handing him the rolled up parchment. They tried to whisper, but the room was quiet, their voices easily overheard.
"That was fast."
"You said quickly—I didn't know how urgent it was."
"It was almost suspicious, Merlin."
Gwen spoke over them, "That is an excellent suggestion, Sir Daniel. Arthur, " she nudged him, and he turned around, Merlin stepping back to his position as a servant, "What do you think about it?"
"Hm? Oh, yes. Sir Daniel, splendid idea. I would have nothing else. Would you like to follow up on it and personally see to the task, or should I assign it to someone else?"
"I am fully qualified to go personally, and I would see it done honorably. Thank you, sire."
Arthur nodded, "If you would—draw me up a potential report of what you plan to do and how long you plan to go, so it may be filed accordingly."
"Of course, sire."
"Another issue has risen from Morgana's attack and our counter-attack. Many knights fell that day, as we've said, but now our army, still recuperating, is down half of what it was before. We need more knights, especially right after such vicious battle. We are still at war, after all. Morgana, their leader, may have fallen, but they would still have—"
"Sire, if I may?" Percival interrupted.
"Of course. Speak your mind."
"How do we know they would still have war?"
"We don't. It isn't official. But it can be assumed. Many of her men died, but many fled. It can be assumed that they regrouped somewhere. Reports from villages west of Camelot's borders tell of armed men, more skilled than petty bandits, have attacked, and in some places plundered the villages, taking supplies and food. These reports were gathered four days after the Battle of Camlann. Leaning toward the safer side, it would be best to assume these skilled warriors were Morgana's."
Percival continued the thought, after Arthur left off, "Even if they don't mean war, we should still assume they do, to ensure we are not surprised by anything."
"Which is why we need more men, to help guard our lands. If they plundered other villages, they may plunder ours. I am going to send men in small groups to visit villages around Camelot and outside her to recruit more knights. I haven't done this before, so some of these villages may not be aware that I have repealed the nobles-only rule in the knight's code. I have drawn up a document—" He turned toward Merlin. Merlin just looked back, confused.
The king dropped his voice and whispered, "You were supposed to get all the papers."
Merlin cocked his head, "You said only the one."
"Well, now I'm telling you to get them all." Merlin slowly left the room, taking his sweet time (maybe that was why Arthur was late that morning). Arthur called after him, "And hurry up, will you!"
He addressed the court once again (Gwaine was smirking), "I have drawn up a document that will prove that I do allow even the lowliest commoner to become a knight, granted he is no criminal—I do not want any more betrayals. Who would like to be in charge of this task?"
Sir Sagramor stood up, "I volunteer, your highness."
"Thank you, Sir Sagramor."
However, he remained standing and asked, "What all would these tasks entail?"
"I would like you to organize many groups of knights to send in all directions, each visiting villages. The number of knights is up to you, as is how long they shall be away for this task. For those you choose to send outside the borders, make sure the task is kept relatively secret, so we don't anger any of our allies. Keep the parties small, two men would be just right. However, I request that not many are sent beyond. Also, as I've only written my pledge last night, I have not copied it. You'll need to do so, but I will need to seal it before you send the knights away. I believe that would be all. If you have any questions, do not hesitate to ask."
"Understood, sire."
"Oh, and Sir Gwaine, when the recruits arrive, I task it to you to train them. You may choose for yourself five subordinates to help you. I would recommend you prepare yourself as soon as you can, but you don't have any recruits yet, so do so at your leisure."
Gwaine nodded happily. Percival knew he loved training and teaching new people. Arthur assigned that task to the perfect person.
"Are there any other issues that we need to address?"
Gaius replied, "Sire, I can't help but notice how I am the only learned physician in the city. With a war amongst us and with many injured knights already, as well as the fact that I am getting on in my years, I would like to take on some apprentices."
"I thought Merlin was your apprentice."
"He was, sire, for a time. But he can already match my talents in every way and then some, save for time-related experience. I can no longer teach him."
"Very well, Gaius. What would you like me to do?"
"Send word that a new position is requested. The age, experience, and gender matters not."
"How will we know we have found the right people? Do you have a test in mind?"
Gaius thought for a moment, but then, "I don't have a test I could write for you, but I cannot go myself, there are too many wounded knights. I'm afraid I don't know, sire."
"You say you cannot go personally, does that mean you could judge if you did, or would you not know what to do?"
"If I was able, sire, I would be able to judge myself, but alas, I cannot, as I have said."
"I know, Gaius, but I can send Merlin. Would he be able to determine?"
"I believe so."
"Very well! I will send him with one of the recruiting parties."
"Thank you."
"Anything else?"
No one stood up; no one raised their hands; no one said anything.
"All right, then. Dismissed."
All the knights stood, before the king did so himself, then scooting the queen's throne away from the table, he offered his hand, and she rose. The party scattered, except for Percival, who approached Arthur, with a request on his lips.
"Arthur, since you have not given me a specific task, would I be allowed to travel west, preferably outside the border? I have not visited my friends in Escetir for some time."
"Of course, Percival. But I can't have you slacking off, so take charge of the recruiting party that is being sent out that way."
Percival smiled, "Yes, sire."
He turned to leave, but Arthur asked one thing of him, "Oh, and Percy, if you happened to see Sir Galahad, send him my way. I think he would be the perfect tracker for the couple that we met with this morning."
Percival nodded, but a thought struck him. He wanted to go west to visit, and Galahad, if Arthur does send him as tracker, would also be going west. If he was correct, Ealdor, the village he wished to visit, was less than half a day's journey from Engard, the village Rosmerda and Edward came from. He could take Galahad and the two of them could journey together.
He turned back to Arthur, "Sire, I could take Galahad, if that is whom you wish to send out, and he and I could journey together. We could stop at Ealdor on our return journey."
Merlin decided to show up while Percival was talking, out of the loop after having missed half the council retrieving the papers he had piled in his arms (Arthur had said all of them). "Ealdor? We're going to Ealdor?" A look of distress washed over his features, and he dropped some of the scrolls. "Was Ealdor attacked?"
Arthur saw the distress as soon as it appeared and quickly calmed his servant, "No, Merlin, Percival just wanted to visit."
"Oh, good. Can I go, too? I haven't been by in ages!"
Another scroll fell from the pile to roll next to Percival's boot. Arthur watching it, but spoke, "Nope, I've got a special task for you. You're going recruiting for Gaius."
"What? What does Gaius want?"
Percival broke in, "He can recruit with us, sire. After all, he knows the way to Ealdor better than I."
"Hmm," another scroll met Percival's boot. "I suppose that would work."
Percival smiled brightly, "I haven't been on an adventure with you, Merlin. This will be fun!" He grasped the servant's shoulder, but Merlin was just confused.
"What's going on?" Merlin turned toward Arthur, and three scrolls joined their brethren on the floor.
Arthur just asked, "Why in the world are you carrying all that parchment?"
Merlin just stared, incredulously, "You told me to get ALL the papers."
"I only needed the one."