There were forty-two panes of glass in his window to the east. Another forty-two in the one to the north. There were three cracks in the ceiling. Five in the walls. Three logs sat in the fireplace ready to be lit. Ten more in the basket beside it. There were nine candles dotted around his room. Four tapestries covered his walls, all together they held fifteen people, two lions, one dragon, three suns and one moon.

Percival cast his eyes about. Already he was running out of things to count. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, begging for sleep to come. If he could while away the long hours by sleeping it would be less boring, and he would not feel the pain.

God, he hated being wounded. He hated being so useless. He should be at the council or out protecting his people not stuck in bed left to own self-pity. He should have seen that bandit.

There came a soft rap at the door and it creaked open. Percival opened his eyes and looked up at his saviour. He was met with a small smile.

"We are to ride out shortly, so I cannot stay long; Arthur does not want to waste any more time."

Percival inclined his head to his friend, and pushed himself into a sitting position against the headboard, careful not to move his leg too much. The sheets slipped down off his bare torso to pool at his waist and he felt a chill in the room.

From his place by the threshold, Leon took this to mean enter and did, shutting the wooden door behind him and crossing the room, drawing up a chair by his bed. "How's the leg?" He asked.

"Good, the wounds not infected; Gaius has patched it well. I'm more likely to die of boredom from being cooped up in here. Either that or insanity" He banged his head back against the headboard causing a soft thud. "Stupid bandit." He muttered.

Leon looked over him sympathetically. "Well you must rest it if you wish to get better. How long before Gaius said you could walk on it?"

"As long as it takes, though should be around a couple days. And I have to take medicine for the pain."

Leon nodded and the two lapsed into silence before Percival rolled his head to look at his friend. "So what have I missed? The attack on two of the western Farming towns, what does Arthur plan to do? You said you were riding out?"

"Yes," Leon shifted forward on his seat, his face grim, "Scouts from the west returned early this morning, Herador is completely torched to the ground, most of its surrounding crop along with it. Gamthor, thankfully, is in much better shape. Abandoned and ransacked but at least the buildings still stand. Arthur is sending out men to the remaining farming areas for protection, as well as doubling the guards on the outlaying fortresses and patrols. I'm to take a small group of our finest trackers, and see if we can pick up any trails the Saxons have left and follow them. They may lead back to Morgana."

"That should be my job. I should be going with you."

Leon stood up. "Your only job now if to regain your strength, Percival. This attack is only the beginning. Arthurs fears there is worst yet to come, and better you be healthy for when it does." He clamped a hand down on Percival's shoulder and smiled. "I must go now, I will return to see you in a few days."

He nodded and returned the grip. "Ride safe."

And then Leon left as quickly as he had come. And Percival was left alone again. He decided to recount the panes on his window, just to double check he had got the number correct. Less than a minute later he discovered he had.


Six hours later...

Fire crackled into life in front of her as the logs finally caught alight. Rory shuffled backwards from the hearth, her task now complete and began to add some coal to the flames from a bucket by her side with wrought iron pincers.

Satisfied with her work, she got up off her knees and dusted off her skirts and hands. She bent and picked up the bucket of coal at her feet, turned around and gave a small start when blue eyes met her own, a gasp escaping from her lips.

"I'm sorry," The man in the bed immediately apologised, his mouth twitching into half a smile. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"Forgive me, Sir." She replied, dropping her eyes. "I came to check on your fire and saw that it had gone out. I didn't mean to wake you."

"It's alright," The knight replied, raising a hand. "Thank you."

Rory glanced up at him for a second and smiled. Sir Percival looked very tired, as he sat up in bed, the sheets that covered his legs ended at his waist. His torso covered by a simple, sleeveless undershirt that did up in loose little knots up the middle of his chest revealing a trail of skin of his stomach stretched over muscles. His arms were just as bare and muscular as usual, his collarbone held a purple bruise. But it was his face that caught her attention. Strong-jawed and straight nosed, matched with blonde close-cropped hair and light blue eyes, it was by no means an exaggeration to call him handsome.

Much like all the knights of Camelot, she mused in her head whilst simultaneously shrugging at him. "It's my job, Sir." She said. "Gwen asked me to tend to you in my spare time, make sure you get your food and medicine on time and all that. She wants us to help out Gaius as much as possible with all the refugees that are coming in and all. So he's got us tending to you lot with things such as food and heat while he and Merlin do the more healer-y side of things."

"I'm not a refugee."

"Aye but you still need tending too." Rory pointed out. "Gaius says you're not to walk on your leg yet, so I'm afraid things like making to your fire are going to have to be done by me for the time being. Or Merlin." She added hurriedly. "Or really any servant passing by to be honest, I mean it doesn't really have to be me, I'm sure someone might pop in at some point and-"

"Rory." The Knight interrupted, and she shut up, flushing. Why did she have to babble so much?

She could still feel him watching her from his bed as she stood there, semi-awkwardly, the coal bucket still in hand. "You can look at me you know." He said softly, and she did, though carefully, making sure she didn't do anything inappropriate like stare at his chest and drool.

"Will that be all, Sir?"

Percival smiled slightly. "And you don't need to be so formal all the time either. I've heard the way you speak with Merlin, so I know you're not always like this."

"Merlin isn't a Knight."

"Should it make all that difference? Rory we have known each other for over two years now. You've saved my life twice, I think it wouldn't be improper for you to call me Percival now and then"

She looked at him shrewdly. "You just want to know what your name sounds like with a Skylish accent."

He let out a short laugh and held up his hands. "Guilty."

She smiled and behind her the fire danced merrily in its grate. "Well then will that be all, Sir Percival?"

"Yes. Thank you, Rory."

She bowed her head, and turned to the door, but then his voice stopped her. "Rory." He repeated. "Is that short for anything?"

"Yes, Sir." She replied turning back. "Orhea, Sir. It's a kind of flower that grows on the Downs. Rory is a pet name from it."

"The down?.."

She smiled at his confusion. "It's an area in the middle of Skyla . Country, very hilly, where I was born. The flower is native to the ground there."

Percival nodded. "How come no one here calls you Orhea then?"

Rory shrugged, smile still in place but inside slight confusion etched through her. Since when had a Knight of Camelot ever been interested in her name? Or anyone for that matter. Down here, folks had always contributed her weird name for the fact she was from Skyla. Then she realised that Percival was trying to prolong her stay by asking her questions and after a few moments of surprise, and she understood why: sitting around in this room all day must be boring, but still she couldn't stay to humour him.

"I'm just called Rory that's all, Sir."

And she turned and left his room, quickly shutting the door behind her, before he could call her back. Letting out a large breath, she sagged back against the wood, closing her eyes. In her chest, her beat faster than she should have liked. "Get a grip girl," She muttered to herself in Skylish, the native and first tongue of the Downs. "He ain't why you're here."

On the other side of the door, Percival thudded his head back onto the headboard. Boredom was already seeping back into him and his leg ached dully, but at least the maid had caused for some distraction. Orhea, he thought to himself, not really thinking but yet his head was full of her name.

Orhea.

Rory.

Meadows.

Heat from her fire washed over him, and slowly he began to fall back to sleep, listening to the fire crackle as if it were a lullaby. If he had not been half asleep he would have sworn it was actually singing to him.

Walking down the Castle corridors, pale of coal swinging by her side, the Skylish Handmaiden hummed to herself, the flaming torches on the walls burning brighter as she past.


Originally two chapters but I felt bad that one was so short so I combined them. Hope you enjoyed, Love Elle x