Percival was having a very bad day. First he was captured, then he learned that his best friend Gwaine was going to have to fight bandits for entertainment and then he learnt that Gwaine was going to have to fight the bandits for him.
Sure, he was doing it for food and water as well, but that didn't matter. The only bright spot was that he was now in a cell with Sir Leon, Sir Elyan and King Arthur. They had all been very worried about him and Gwaine, and that worry had turned to anger and frustration after Percival told them about the welcome party in the slave wagon and that Gwaine had been shot when they had been captured. That anger increased when a guard came to their cell and told them about Gwaines deal with Lot.
"In return for fighting His Majesties men, His Majesty will not only provide sufficient food and water for 5 people, he will not harm Percival. Should Gwaine change his mind and refuse to fight, rations for his 3 prisoners will be halved, and he will have his men beat Percival to death. On the likely event of Gwaines death, Percival shall take his place for a week before he is sold on the slave market. Should any attempted rescue take place, King Lot will vent his anger on Gwaine. Should any attempted escape take place, both Gwaine and Percival will pay." The guard then left, leaving the prisoners to their shock. The silence was broken by Arthur, a good ten minutes later. "We won't let them take you Percival. Gwaine will make sure of that. He's a good fighter. He will survive what ever they throw at him."
"Yeah, but he shouldn't have too. Not again. You didn't see him last time. It took a lot out of him." Elyan interjected. It was at that moment that the guards chose to return, dragging a limp and bloodied figure. They threw him into the cell and Percival rushed forward to catch him. He then set the man down in a corner, and brushed his hair out of his eyes so Percival could see who the man was. He already knew in his heart of course. Nobody else had that hair. "Gwaine? You with me?" Percival asked softly, shaking his friend gently. When there was no answer, he stood up and backed away. "Does any one have any medical knowledge? Of any kind?" he asked frantically.
"I have a bit, from last time." Elyan said, kneeling down beside his fallen comrade.
As Elyan looked Gwaine over, Arthur grew more and more angry. When he got free, he was going to kill Lot. But the problem was that while he, Sir Leon and Sir Eylan would survive, the future of Gwaine and Percival was much less certain. "Gwaine's hurt quite badly. Not enough to kill him, but enough to cause him a great deal of pain and discomfort." Elyan told them. "What are his injuries?" Arthur asked, not sure he wanted know the extent of the rogue knights pain. "Multiple broken ribs, a slash on his arm that goes all the way to the bone, the leg wound from before, lots of very large and very painful bruises and a few small but deep cuts on his torso." Elyan said, clearly as unhappy as they were. "That bad huh? Is my face still ok? My hair?" came a voice from behind the Camelot crew.
"Gwaine!" four voices cried as one, turning around. "Are you ok mate?" asked Percival concernedly, and for a moment Gwaine let the mask slip, revealing that he was most certainly not ok, before fixing it back into place and grinning. "Course I am."
"What happened?" Arthur asked. "Oh, you know, just your regular horse sized man who has a freaking huge axe and the mother of all maces which he uses to make you fly through the air and into a wall." Sir Leon winced, images of similar events springing into mind. "And, of course, the wall is surrounded by a bunch of nasty bandits who waste no time in showing me just how much they don't like Camelot, and in particular her king. And because I'm a commoner, a nobody and, more importantly, I've sworn an oath of loyalty to you princess, they don't like me either. To be fair I did call Lot a few names including an ugly toad who will be forever alone, but still..." Gwaine trailed off, unconsciously rubbing his injured leg.
Arthur opened his mouth to scold Gwaine for angering their captor, but was distracted by the the cell door opening. "Your prize Gwaine." Lot himself was standing outside their prison, and a servant was holding a tray laden with two pitchers of water, a pot of what smelled like stew and a bowl of bread. Elyan moved to take the tray, but Lot held up his hand. "No, not you. It must be Gwaine, unassisted." Lot told them, smiling a nasty grin that never reached his eyes.