Percival gets sick and someone comes to his aid. (eurydice72)
The Patient - Gwen, Percival - G
"My lady, I'm fine," Percival protests, attempting to wave her off.
"You're gray Percival," Guinevere argues. "Lie down and I will prepare you some soup."
"I am meant to be protecting you," he says, dropping his pounding head back. It feels like there are knives in his gut.
"Yes, and you should have thought of that before you went to the tavern with Queen Annis' knights last night," she admonishes gently. "Drink this."
"What is it?"
"You're being picky now? Sir Robert tells me you consumed 37 pickled eggs last night—"
"Ohhh…"
"—and now you question what is going into your mouth?"
He drinks. It's hot, yet cool. Tea made from mint leaves. "Thank you. I'm sorry, my lady, but it was a wager…"
"It doesn't matter now," she sighs. "You had best hope that we are not disturbed tonight. And you're going to owe Sir Leon, as he's going to have to stand watch all night."
"I'm sorry, my lady," he apologizes again, trying not to groan
"Shh, lie still. The soup is almost ready." She tucks his blanket up around him, dabs his brow lightly, and returns to the fire.
I should be ashamed. Being tended by my queen like a sick child.
The soup tastes good, and soon his eyes are heavy with sleep. As they drift closed, he feels his wise and gentle queen place a small kiss on his forehead.
She will make an excellent mother one day. She is already mother to us all.