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Percival stood at the physician’s chamber door. He’d been stood there for long enough that he could count all the grains of wood in six of the panels that made up the entrance.
He still wasn’t sure if he was doing the right thing.
A few nights previously, after they came back without Lancelot, Gwaine had advised Percival to speak to Merlin. Lancelot and Merlin had been good friends, Percival learned of that from his friend, and Lancelot would occasionally receive letters from Merlin. They never spoke at great length, but it was clear that Merlin meant a good deal to Lancelot.
In those first few weeks after the Knights of the Round Table took their oaths, Percival had kept close to Lancelot, who never said he was unwelcome. As Lancelot went with Merlin, Percival followed, until sometimes he could see a look in Lancelot’s eye which just meant give us a moment, Perce, and he did so. Percival had to take a step out of his comfort zone going up to people he didn’t know well, like Gwaine, Elyan and Leon, which was intimidating, but he was starting to forge true friendships, something he had given up on until Lancelot came into his life.
Footsteps roused Percival from his thoughts and he looked down the corridor to see Gaius approaching him, with his eyebrow raised; that was seemingly a permanent expression.
“Sir Percival,” Gaius’ voice rang down the corridor as the old man shuffled towards him. Percival didn’t respond as the old man sidled up to him. “Is there something I can help you with?”
Suddenly afraid, as if this was the worst decision in the world, Percival shrugged and half-laughed. “No, I was looking for Merlin, but of course he shall be with Arthur. I won’t bother you, Gaius.” And with that, Percival made to leave but Gaius cleared his throat.
“Merlin has completed his duties for today; he is in his room. I can ask, and I think it do him good to see someone, although he may not agree at first.” It was clear that Gaius knew exactly why Percival would want to speak to Merlin. Of course it was, Percival knew how perceptive the old man was. Gaius opened his chamber door and ushered Percival in.
“I can come back another time,” Percival made to turn but the door to the bedroom opened, revealing Merlin.
The young man looked like he hadn’t slept properly since they had returned from the Isle of the Blessed, his eyes sunken with dark rings around them. Merlin was pale as it was, but his skin almost seemed translucent. His hair was sticking up in different directions, and Percival thought Merlin was already slim, but his breeches were hanging off hips that seemed to jut out from under his skin.
“Hello, Percival.”
As Merlin spoke, Percival realised he had been staring at Merlin, so straightened up and looked between him and Gaius.
“Merlin. I was wondering if you’d like some company.” No, that isn’t what Percival meant at all, but he didn’t want to jump straight in at the deep-end with do you want to talk about our friend who died in circumstances only you know about and I yelled at you for not telling us? – that might be a little tactless. Percival still felt guilty for that. Another reason he wanted to see Merlin was to apologise.
Merlin looked at Gaius, who simply raised his brow even higher. “I think it may do you good, my boy.” Gaius then turned to Percival, who spoke softly. “I think you should at least come in, the corridor is no place for such conversations.” The old man bustled the tall pair into his chambers. Merlin and Percival were stood a mere hands-width apart.
“I shall brew some tea, nettle may soothe your roiling stomach, Merlin.” Gaius left them to tend to the pot hanging above the stove.
“Have you not been eating?” Percival latched onto the thread Gaius left loose.
Merlin merely shrugged. He moved to the bench and sat, his back to Percival. But Percival was feeling brave, and went to the other side of the table so he sat facing Merlin. They sat in silence, neither looking at the other. Percival was watching Gaius stoke the fire under the pot of tea, but it wasn’t too long before Merlin sighed audibly and looked up at Percival.
“When did you meet him?” A simple question, not half a dozen words.
Gaius tried to leave without disturbing them, but clattered a pair of mugs on the bench, managing to catch them before the rolled onto the floor. Percival and Merlin both looked around, to see Gaius looking back at them sheepishly.
“Sorry,” he grimaced. Merlin chuckled under his breath, a sound that Percival didn’t realise until that moment quite how long it had been since he’d heard that sound. It must’ve been at least four days.
“The tea is ready. I might recommend some honey to taste, Merlin knows where it is.” He nodded and left, the room becoming calmer and quieter once more.
“When did you meet Lancelot, Percival?” Merlin queried again, and it dawned on Percival that they hadn’t really spoken much in the past at all. In fact, he wasn’t sure if he’d divulged this information to anyone. Even when he and his fellow knights were in the tavern, drinking to Lancelot’s memory, Percival had done more of the drinking than the talking that night.
“I was working in a village somewhere as the strong man to go to when they need help. I was pulling a cart out of the mud when Lance approached me.” Percival smiled at the memory. Lancelot was so impressed with his show of strength. “He came over to help, but realised I didn’t need any.” A brief pause. “He brought me out of my head after a really rough couple of months. He kept my spirits up as we kept looking for work for a roof over our heads.” Percival hesitated. “It was a few months before Lance received your letter.”
“I was surprised it found him.” Percival nodded at Merlin’s comment; they’d travelled quite often, but he and Lancelot returned to their village every now and again to see friends they had made. “Would you like some tea?”
“Please,” Percival wasn’t about to pass up on nettle and honey tea, he used to drink it as a lad to quell a churning stomach, and it didn’t have a horrendous taste either.
Merlin served up two cups of the drink and sat down again opposite Percival. As the taste of the tea hit Percival’s tongue, he was taken back to being a boy and his mother would tell him the tea would soothe his poorly throat. It had scratched and he had whined to the gods above to ease the soreness as he swallowed, and eventually the tea did exactly as him mother had told him.
“I was picking mushrooms for Gaius and was attacked by a creature, a griffon,” Merlin started, “and Lancelot came out of nowhere and saved me. I would’ve been killed right there if he hadn’t have shown up.”
Percival huffed a laugh and smiled. Lancelot clearly had impeccable timing in general.
“It was his life’s ambition to be a Knight of Camelot.” And he fulfilled his dream. He was the noblest of them all and would have done anything for Camelot, for Arthur.
Even die for him. And that, he did.
“How long ago was that?” Percival asked, as he drank from his cup.
“Oh, a few years ago now. He came to stay with me in Camelot here, and he told me of his dream to be a Knight here. We… may have forged a fake crest to show Arthur how skilled Lancelot was.”
Percival almost choked on his hot drink. “You did what?” He spluttered.
Merlin smiled sadly. “Probably not my finest moment. Lancelot was the fifth son of Lord Eldred of Northumbria. There was a creature attack, a griffon, and Lancelot was knighted within a day of making basic training.” Then, he smiled genuinely. “I wish I could’ve seen how he did it. Arthur was such a spoiled arse back then.”
Percival could tell he was in for a story. He knew the abridged version of this tale, but Lancelot never gave him the full picture,
“The first time Lancelot approached Arthur, he slapped Lancelot across the face and claimed it was because of Lance’s ‘sluggish reactions’. Lancelot had just bowed in front of the Crown Prince! He wasn’t expecting a smack on the cheek!” Merlin was clearly still a little cross about how Arthur ad acted back then. “And Arthur sent him to muck out his stables. The arrogant prat.” Merlin shook his head. “But Lancelot told me that, for some reason, the next day, Arthur came to the stables and took a broom handle and told Lancelot to ‘kill him’. I’ve seen him do that before with other potential new knights, but they only failed to live up to expectations.”
Merlin sipped his tea and Percival did the same, as it was finally at a drinkable temperature.
“When Lancelot came to tell me what happened, he could barely contain his excitement. He’d impressed Arthur, somehow. I don’t know how people can impress him, you know. He never seems to be impressed by anything, or anyone.” He paused. “I suppose that shows just how special Lancelot was. That’s how he was knighted.”
Percival waited for Merlin to continue.
“Later that day, Arthur invited him to face him in combat training in the morning, and Lancelot fought valiantly, so bravely. Gwen and I watched, heart in mouth moments, you know how it can be.” Percival nodded. “He put Arthur on his arse! Finally that pompous dollophead got what was coming!” Merlin drained his cup as Percival puzzled over the term. Dollophead? But Merlin moved on before he could ask. “And Arthur rose up, he looked furious, and he pointed his sword at Lancelot. Next thing, Lancelot was knighted and the celebrations began.
Percival mulled over this story, something not quite making sense. “But Lancelot wasn’t a knight when I met him.”
Merlin nodded with a stern expression. “Geoffrey did some reading and found out that Lord Eldred of Northumbria didn’t have five sons.” Merlin looked down, regretfully. “Lancelot was thrown in the cells and it was all my fault.”
Percival had drained his cup. The light outside the chambers was fading, Gaius would probably return soon, but Percival was too engrossed in Merlin’s tale. He could picture every word. The light from the fire beneath the pot was lighting up Merlin’s face, making him appear dramatic, and it aided in his storytelling.
“The creature returned and attacked Camelot, Arthur told the knights to gather to defend the Citadel, but he released Lancelot from the cells and told him to leave Camelot. But as the knights were attacked, Lancelot appeared on a white stallion with a joust and rode straight at the griffon, killing it. It was like a story you were told as a young boy, Percival, it was incredible.” Percival nodded as he remembered such stories his mother and father used to tell him.
He also knew that griffons were creatures of magic, and couldn’t be destroyed without it.
“But Uther couldn’t get over Arthur’s disobedience of freeing Lancelot, and Lancelot was not restored as a knight. Damn Uther and his stubbornness. Lancelot left, not wanting Arthur and his father to argue.” A beat. “It hurt Arthur to see him go. And Gwen, of course.”
Percival was still mulling over how Lancelot could kill a creature of magic.
Unless Lancelot had magic? No, he would’ve mentioned something, definitely. He wouldn’t have kept that to himself. And Merlin told the story like he was there; he saw the whole event unfurl before him. He would’ve seen Lancelot use magic, wouldn’t he? Unless…
Unless Merlin was the one with magic?
“I bumped into him on a handful of occasions over the years.” Merlin interrupted Percival’s train of thought. “But never with the intention of meeting until you and he met us by the gorge, well, you saved us.”
At that, Percival tried to be nonchalant, and merely shrugged his shoulders.
“You have some serious strength, Percival. That was impressive.”
That’s exactly what Lancelot told him when he saw Percival lift the cart single handedly.
“And that’s it, really. The rest, you know as well.” Merlin met Percival's eyes. "I wish we could have made more stories together."
The light had well and truly faded and the room was only lit by the fire under the pot. It made the shadows dance behind them, and Percival shuddered, as if someone had walked over his grave.
Unprompted, Merlin rose to his feet, slowly shaking his head. “I’m sorry to have taken up your evening, Percival.”
“Merlin, it was not a hardship, not even close to one. Your company is not a burden.” Percival spoke from the heart as he too stood. “It was quite the tale. I’m really glad to have heard it, Lance only briefly mentioned it to me. And,” Percival slightly nudged Merlin, “I think it did you good to tell it. You already seem more yourself.”
Merlin nodded in agreement. “Arthur always says I speak too much.”
“I think you speak the right amount when you need to. And in case you don’t want to be a physician, you could be a storyteller. You have a way with words, Merlin, that not everyone has. I certainly don’t.” The pair shared a laugh.
The door behind the clattered open, startling them as they whipped around, as Gaius walked through the doorway with a bucket in his hands. He noticed the pair, stopped and smiled at them.
“You both look better than when I left.” Gaius smiled softly and took his bucket to the opposing desk.
Merlin and Percival looked at each other, and Percival spoke first. “Thank you, Merlin.’
“No, thank you, Percival. Thank you for listening and also for sharing. I have enjoyed your company.”
Percival made to leave, pausing at the door before turning to Gaius. “Thank you for the tea, Gaius.”
Gaius looked over and nodded. “Anytime, my boy. This door is always open, whether to cure an ailment of the body, or the mind, or even just to join an old man for a story.” He smiled at Percival and turned back around.
Percival took another look at Merlin; they shared one last smile before Percival left.
Gwaine was right. Percival certainly felt much better.