It was so stupid, and so quick. One moment Percival was riding along behind Merlin, his arms wrapped around Gwaine as his horse picked its way along the rocky section of path and the next, the horse was whinnying in fear as its hooves slipped and Merlin was shouting.

As the horse scrabbled for purchase on the rocks, Percival gave it its head to give it a chance to recover, but it lurched and slid, and with his arms wrapped around Gwaine, they fell. The drop was steep and boulder-strewn and Percival wrapped his body tightly around Gwaine, trying to protect the already dying man from any more damage.

Percival felt something give in his side as he hit a jagged rock, and then he grunted as his leg snapped: he wasn't sure if he felt it or heard it, but it was definitely broken. He was still registering that when a final, crushing impact knocked the air from his lungs and Gwaine from his arms, as he jerked to a halt, his back crashing into a solid outcrop of granite. He didn't seem to be able to get his breath, but called out for Gwaine all the same.

Distantly he heard Merlin yelling their names and sure enough, soon he heard him crashing and sliding down after them, dislodging smaller rocks that Percival was unable to stop from hitting him as he lay where he'd landed. "Gwaine! Check Gwaine!" He told Merlin desperately, not letting the sorcerer pause next to him.

They had turned around that morning, heading slowly away from wherever the Cup was kept, slowly back toward Camelot, where Gwaine wanted to die in peace. The ride was silent and solemn, and no birds sang. Gwaine grew weaker, but he yet breathed, his heart yet beat, as labored as they all felt. Bodies lived on while wills faltered.

This changed things.

Merlin skidded down the hill after the two knights, pausing briefly by Percival just to reassure himself that he was at least conscious before stopping next to Gwaine. He didn't seem to be awake at the moment, which was probably a blessing. But he also didn't seem much injured, since Percival had taken most of the shock of falling and rolling down the hill. After making sure he wouldn't roll further down the hill or get buried by a rockfall, Merlin moved the few feet back up to Percival, who looked far the worse for wear. His leg looked broken, and the sharp rocks had cut him here and there. "Gwaine is okay, you kept him from the worst of it," Merlin told Percival. "What happened?" he asked with some distress, looking back up the hill to the horses, who were standing and looking confused and panicked. He shook his head—

Diablo and Bill would never have tripped on this path, and they certainly wouldn't have panicked and then dumped their riders. The strange horses just added to the wrongness of everything.

With another grim shake of his head, Merlin moved to Percival's broken leg. "I need to set your leg," he said with a grimace, feeling along Percival's leg for the break. He found it and tried to straighten the break, waiting for the inevitable cry of pain, and was surprised when there was none.

He looked at Percival and frowned. It was all well and good that he wasn't letting on that he was in any pain, but... but there was something very not right. He straightened the break, glancing up at Percival's face for any sort of reaction. There was none.

This was bad.

"You can't feel your leg," Merlin said quietly, lest Gwaine was awake and would hear him and get upset.

Percival was still, unnaturally so as he looked calmly at Merlin, "It's okay." He reassured him, "You can get him back. If you use your magic can you get him back on the path? It'll be easy from there."

Merlin was glad that someone was taking this situation calmly, because he was about to become decidedly not calm. "No," he said, because this was the first thing that came to mind regarding the entirety of Percival's statement. "No! This is not okay. I'm not leaving you here, and not just because Gwaine would find some way to kill me if I did—and you know he would. I'm not doing it! I'm not. We'll stay here, I'll make sure Gwaine is comfortable, I promise, and when... we'll go back after." He sat down between the two knights. "I'm not. I can't. I will not just leave you here," he said miserably.

Percival was lying awkwardly against the rock that had broken his back. He wanted to reach out and tell Merlin it would be okay, but he had to settle for words instead. "Gwaine needs to be warm, the others need a chance to say their goodbyes. It doesn't hurt, I'll..."

Gwaine was wakened by the fall, though he felt no pain, and thought that was odd. He closed his eyes, wondering if maybe this was death (maybe hoping for it), until—

"Wait, what?" he demanded, eyes snapping open and heaving himself up onto an elbow. Percival was strewn awkwardly against a rock, like a doll thrown carelessly away by a child, and—but he wasn't— "Merlin, fix him!" he shrieked.

Before Merlin could explain how many things were wrong with what Percival was continuing to insist upon, Gwaine interrupted him. At the sound of Gwaine's voice, Merlin jumped, scrambling to his feet. He was about to ask Gwaine if he was alright—stupid question, he realized a split second later—but then he stopped, shoulders hunching as he stared down at the ground. "I... I can't, Gwaine. I can't even fix his leg," he admitted hesitantly. The most powerful warlock the world has ever seen, he thought bitterly, and I can't fix anything.

"It's okay." Percival tried again, couldn't they see? Gwaine was the one that mattered, and Merlin. "Merlin will look after you. Just, have you got a blanket you could leave me?"

Merlin said nothing, but sat down and looked at Gwaine for backup. He'd already said all he was going to say—that he wasn't going to leave Percival out here with a broken back—but apparently Percival wasn't understanding the words he was saying or the sentiment behind them, so perhaps he'd listen to Gwaine.

Gwaine ignored Percival, because he was being an idiot. He heaved himself upright, coughed thickly, and spat a glob of black stuff into the dirt as if he was angry at it. "Merlin. Go get the Cup," he said, because now everything was in perspective. Now he understood. "Bring it back here."

Percival concentrated on breathing, because it was hard to catch his breath and it was cold all of a sudden.

Jerking, Gwaine tugged the cloak he was wrapped in from around his shoulders and laid it over Percival. Moving hurt every inch of his body, and he groaned, laying down next to Percival. "You can fix this," he said, perhaps a little bit cruelly, to Merlin. "Go get the cup."

Merlin nodded, and got up to climb back up the hill. This was something he could do, and even if he was loathe to leave Gwaine and Percival injured and sick and alone for any amount of time, he would be back before it was dark—he hoped. Also, Gwaine's tone brooked no argument, and if it stung, well, he probably deserved it. Definitely. He definitely deserved it.

But first, he scrambled back down the hill with the packs taken from the horses' saddles. He left these by Gwaine and Percival, along with the blankets they'd brought.

"I won't be long," he said, avoiding looking at either one of them, and went back up, following their trail backwards to find the cup.

"I can't..." Percival said suddenly as he realized what was going on: the cup wasn't meant for the likes of him...a peasant, a failure. The cup was for heroes and legends and people who had earned the right.

"Neither can I," Gwaine said. The pang of fear for Percival was making everything painfully clear. He was being unfair to Merlin, and he was being unfair to Percival. And if Merlin and Percival were both there, and Leon, well, for all that immortality was about the last thing in the world Gwaine wanted right now (he didn't want to be in pain any longer, and not just the physical pain he was currently in), he certainly didn't want to see Percival to die before him. "So hold on," he told him, another cough wracking his body.

"It doesn't hurt. Just cold." Percival said, but he was broken inside, he could feel things moving and grating as he breathed. "I'm sorry. I wanted to help you. I failed..."

"Percival!" Gwaine choked. "You haven't failed! Look at you, you just broke your back saving me!" He was hacking up a lung now, definitely, but he didn't even care that he got some on Percival. "Look, just hang on," he said, quieter, taking smaller breaths, "we're just going to wait here til Merlin gets back. And then—" he paused, swallowed. "Then we'll both drink."

"Will you drink, if I can't?" Percival asked, pleading, because he could feel everything fading away so quickly now.

Gwaine growled. Part of him felt obligated to lie to Percival, because that was the kinder thing to do, but, "Probably not," he said quietly.

Percival's next breath came out as a sob. "I want you to live."

"Well I want you to live," he shot back, laying his head down. He really felt very ill. "I get it now. I was being selfish before. And—and it's not a great choice: immortality waiting for a prat to be reincarnated, which is stupid, or an agonizing death that can be prevented—also stupid." He shrugged.

"Why won't you drink for yourself?" Percival asked. "I don't want to...to go knowing you will too. Please."

"Because that's egotistical and pathetic and in poor taste," Gwaine said, with what might under any other circumstances been a wry smile. "It's not like either of us are looking for magic powers or to rule the world. We drink for each other or we don't drink at all. I already told you I'm not afraid to die, and we all know you'll end up in a higher level of Paradise than me, so I don't know what you're worried about."

"I want to know you'll be alight." Percival eyes filled with tears even as they slid shut without his permission. He was so tired, if he could just sleep for a little while, but Gwaine...

"Perce, stay with me," Gwaine groaned, lifting his head again. "Stay with me and I will be."

"Not fair." Percival was crying now.

"You're not fair," Gwaine said, wiping the tears from Percival's eyes and blinking his own away. "Fine, fine. I'll drink," he said, feeling sick from a combination of nathair venom, the idea of living an age without Percival, and a pretty good idea that despite his best effort, he was probably definitely lying. "If I have to. But I want you to drink, too. Okay?" he asked.

"It's okay. It's better this way." Percival whispered, his fingers curling against the cold snow. "I'm not strong enough, I've never been strong enough…I can't watch anyone else die. Everyone has gone and I'm still here. It's not right and I can't do it anymore. I know I'm a coward, but I can't—not for Leon, not for Merlin…its okay." His voice trailed off as he coughed, almost delicately at first, then a second cough brought up the blood he'd been tasting in the back of his throat, and it trickled down his chin, strangely warm in comparison to everything else. It wasn't so bad…he was scared and cold, but mostly tired and sad, and it was okay….

"Percival, you're not a coward," Gwaine snapped, rolling closer and putting a hand on his arm. He paused long, then, "No, that's a lie. The truth is, we're all cowards. I don't blame you. And I don't want you to do it for Merlin or Leon or any of them." He coughed weakly. "I want you to do it for me."

Percival forced his eyes back open, trying to focus on Gwaine, "I will if I can...I just...I'm dying here." He admitted, which wasn't news to neither of them, but Percival thought maybe he was dying faster than Gwaine knew, "And I don't want to go knowing you're going to follow. I..." He coughed again and whimpered, that had hurt, something jarred in his chest "I want you to live for me, not die for me."

"Percival, I will do both or neither as I damn well please. Don't worry about me, Perce, worry about you. Merlin's going to be back here any minute and we have an eternity to fight this out. Just hold on, okay? I—" he paused, brushing the blood away from Percival's lips. "Look, I won't—I promise you won't have to watch me die. I'm sorry I was going to do that to you before. I was wrong. Don't make me do the same thing."

"'M trying." Percival promised Gwaine, and he really was, he was just so tired. There was pain now, but it seemed distant and unimportant. His eyes wouldn't stay open... "I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Perce," Gwaine whispered, shifting so he could rest his hand on Percival's brow. "It's okay."

Gwaine supposed he deserved this, for trying to do this to Percival and Merlin—Merlin. What was taking him so long?

...

A/N: Thanks for reading! Thanks again to my co-authors, and thanks to those who leave a review or a favorite!