Chapter Twelve: Courage Fading

Percival threw his hunting knife into the center of a nearby tree trunk, just for something to do. Night had fallen, and he was on watch. The dying campfire spit the occasional glowing spark into the gathering darkness, but the sleeping knights were far enough from the smoldering wood that they wouldn't burn. There were only three of them, Elyan, Leon and Arthur, sleeping on the ground.

It was strange, to not see the bundle of blankets that was Merlin huddled in the darkness, or hear Gwaine's loud snores. Patrols were different, nowadays. Arthur was silent and brooding. There was no distracting banter between the King and his manservant, no inappropriate comments from Gwaine. The Knights of the Round Table were rather subdued.

Percival pulled his knife from the tree bark and shot a glance at Arthur's unmoving form by the fire. He didn't know what to think of Arthur anymore. When they'd first met, he'd thought the Prince was strong and courageous and fit to be a King. His obvious camaraderie with Merlin and his care – though the royal would never have admitted it – for the manservant had convinced the Knight that this royal was worthy of his loyalty. Now… he wasn't sure.

Merlin being a sorcerer didn't really surprise him. They had always been a little too lucky when the manservant was around. And Merlin was very obviously not evil. He couldn't have hurt someone in cold blood in his life. And if Merlin was magic and Merlin wasn't evil, then obviously not all magic was evil. It was as simple as that, and Arthur was a dollop-head, to use the manservant's word, if he couldn't come to that conclusion.

Percival sheathed his hunting knife and began walking a circle around the camp to keep himself occupied. Arthur was different now. He was cold and hard, he barely laughed, he didn't smile. His relationship with Gwen was falling apart. Elyan's loyalty had already faded as a result of that. Gwaine had left to go with Merlin. Even Leon, who had known Arthur longer than any of them, seemed to be more distant to the King. Percival wasn't entirely sure how he felt.

He missed Merlin. He'd actually grown rather attached to the weaker man. They all had, he thought. They protected the manservant, because he was very obviously not very good at protecting himself, falling over in battle, paying more attention to what was happening to Arthur than what was happening to himself. Merlin was the one who took their minds away from the injuries they sustained with light banter, who kept Arthur from being too much of a prat, who provided them with words of wisdom and encouraged them during battle, and who had probably kept them alive at risk of revealing his greatest secret more times than the Knights knew. Percival was beginning to wonder if he was more loyal to Merlin than he was to his King.

He knew if it came down to it and Arthur tried to kill the sorcerer, he wouldn't stand by and let it happen, Knight's oath and code be damned. He couldn't imagine why Arthur had chosen to react like this. Yes, Merlin probably should have told them, and not let them find out like this, but Percival could see the manservant's reasoning. He had probably been afraid of how Arthur would react. After all, Uther was Arthur's father, and Uther had made his hatred of magic very obvious. And then Merlin had defeated that man, subsequently saving Arthur's life, and despite that, the King still sent him away. He'd probably destroyed Merlin by doing that. Percival tried to imagine what it would feel like to give up one's greatest secret to save someone's life and then have that someone reject you because of that secret. He shuddered. It couldn't feel good. Part of him wanted to go after Merlin and make sure he was alright, and the other part realized that he should stay and try to make sure that Arthur didn't do anything too stupid, though he had no idea how he would manage to dissuade the King if it came to that.

And now they were out here on the very outskirts of Camelot, looking for signs of magic-user's camps, because Arthur had decided to enact a second Great Purge.

He really wasn't sure if Arthur deserved his loyalty anymore, and that was a dangerous thing to be realizing. Because if he felt like this, and Elyan obviously did, and Leon might be as well, then Arthur's hold on his most trusted Knights was fading, and that meant very bad things for the future of Camelot. Even Uther had gained the trust and loyalty of his Knights. If Arthur couldn't do that, how was he supposed to have a hold over the people of Camelot.

He shot a look at the sky, and realized that more time had passed than he had thought. He walked over to the fire and shook Elyan's shoulder lightly, waking him for his watch. The dark-skinned Knight got up and inclined his head to Percival, who settled himself back onto his bedroll.

Night, it seemed, had a tendency to bring thoughts that would normally remain hidden to the surface. He hoped any magic-users were as far from this area of Camelot as it was possible to be.


The Knights were back on horseback the following morning. The area of forest they were in was one that Percival himself really hated patrolling. There was something creepy about it. In truth, he couldn't see anything different about the trees, but in his mind he thought the shadows seemed darker, the brush thicker, the trees closer together, as if the forest itself was endeavouring to hide something.

He tried to pay attention to the road and ignore the prickling sensation on the back of his neck. Elyan looked nervous as well, and so did Leon. He looked at Arthur, expecting to see the usual regal look and manner that managed to convey that there was nothing in the world that could possibly faze the King.

So Percival was a bit surprised when he saw that the King looked just as nervous as the rest of them. The King didn't notice his Knight regarding him, and Percival watched as the royal suddenly turned to the side, opening his mouth to say something, and then snapped it shut, turning stiffly to look forward again.

The Knight frowned at Arthur's behaviour. There was no one next to the King for him to turn and say something to. Oh. Arthur had looked to the side Merlin usually rode on.

Pity tugged at the huge Knight's heart. Why couldn't Arthur just admit that he missed his manservant and give up this stupid war on magic, which made no sense anyways? He shook his head and turned to look at the forest again. There was a small grassy area on the side of the road, large enough for a couple of horses to be tethered in to graze. There were hoof prints there, so someone had obviously used this area for that purpose sometime recently.

He caught sight of something red lying in the grass and drew his horse up short. He dismounted, curious, and walked over to the brightly colored object.

The other Knights had stopped as well.

"Percival? What is it?" Arthur asked.

The muscled Knight picked up the piece of red fabric lying in the grass, heart sinking as he realized why it was so familiar.

Merlin's neckerchief.


Disclaimer: Nope, Merlin's not mine, though I think I want one of those neckerchiefs. Maybe I'll make his fashion statement popular. ;)

Okay, that was a really mean cliffhanger, but I'll write again soon! Hope you guys liked hearing from Percy. There really isn't enough about him in the series. Very quiet, large man with a big heart and bigger muscles. The old legends about Sir Percival are really cool though. He's got quite a few prophecies about himself in the King Arthur legends. Gave Arthur a run for his money.

Your reviews are awesome, you guys! You're all so sweet. :) And 78 of them! I feel special. More? Pwease? *puppy dog eyes*