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Gwaine burst through the tent, not noticing the injured and the dying on the beds and floor all around him. He ran over to Merlin who was tending to a man who had lost his hand.
“Merlin,” he started, breathless.
The younger man looked up, relieved to see Gwaine’s face but his smile dropped when he saw the knight’s expression.
“What is it?” He asked quickly, not wasting any time.
“He’s still out there… I can’t move him… he’s too…” Gwaine was almost hyperventilating.
Merlin clasped Gwaine’s shoulders to steady the knight. “Gwaine, look at me. Breathe with me.” Merlin demonstrated and Gwaine tried to copy. After a few deep breaths, Merlin asked again “What is it?”
Gwaine almost immediately started breathing too quickly again, but he managed to get a word out. “Percival.”
Merlin’s eyes widened. He saw Leon and shouted for him, beckoning him over. Percival was a big man, hardy and it took a lot for him to fall, it must be serious. “Leon, take a cart and go and find Percival. Take Gwaine with you, keep him calm, we can’t have him collapsing and adding another casualty.” Merlin nodded at Leon, Gwaine was too out of it to hear what was being said, then turned back to his patient.
Gwaine was manic. All that was on his mind was Percival, still out there, alone, bleeding, who knows what-
“Gwaine,” Leon spoke with such a tone that it snapped Gwaine out of his haze immediately. They looked at each other. “We need to find a horse and cart, then take me to him.”
Together, the two men dragged a cart through the muddy battlefield to where Gwaine instructed. All around them were the cries of the wounded and the dying. The knights were used to that sound by now, but it didn’t make it any more pleasant. Leon nodded at a fellow knight who was carrying a wounded man over his shoulder. Gwaine didn’t seem to notice.
The cart stuck in the mud, and precious seconds were wasted levering it to and fro trying to free it, and finally they reached Percival.
He was lying on the ground motionless; Percival was noticeable by the distinct lack of movement compared to the other soldiers helping up wounded combatants. He was no longer conscious, and barely breathing. There was blood all over his torso and Leon could have sworn he could see a bone puncturing the skin of his shoulder. Leon rushed to his side, leaned down and placed his head against Percival’s bloodied chest.
“He’s still breathing.” Gwaine sighed in relief and knelt down next to Percival as Leon moved past Gwaine and put his hands under one of Percival’s arms.
“Gwaine, help me,” and he did. The pair of them took Percival under the arms and hoisted him as best as they could onto the cart. It took a few attempts, and there were some small groans of pain from Percival, but Gwaine was relieved to hear them.
He really is alive. That’s all that went through Gwaine’s head whenever Percival made a sound.
The pair placed him on the cart and both took a beam and pulled as best they could through the thick sludge beneath them.
Gwaine was zoned out, his only thoughts were focused on getting Percival back to Merlin as quickly as possible. He didn’t notice the cried from the dying men all around them, but Leon did. The taller knight did his best to block out the screams of anguish, tried not to notice the man with his guts exposed and spilling over his skin. He turned to look at Gwaine, whose brow was furrowed in focus to get their friend to safety.
Leon was grunting with effort next to him, but Gwaine didn’t register that. Gwaine didn’t dare turn around to look at Percival, he just needed to keep going. One foot in front of the other.
Keep going.
***
It felt like and age before they reached the medical tent.
They stopped pulling at the door, and even thought Gwaine’s arms felt like they were going to fall off, he ran to sling one of Percival’s arms over his shoulders, and Leon did the same. They carried him through to Merlin, who was wiping his bloodied hands on a cloth, but was back into action when he saw the knights.
“Over here,” Merlin called to them and he gestured to an empty bed. He whipped the stained sheets off and turned them over, he had long since ran out of fresh sheets to dress each bed with.
“Shit,” he mumbled to himself as the knights placed Percival on the bed, as gently as they could. Between them, they carefully removed Percival’s chainmail, and the colour of Percival’s cream linen shirt was no longer that. It was drenched in blood.
Gwaine stood back, eyes wide, hands over his mouth.
“Fuck, fuck fuck,” he repeated, his eyes fixed on the blood.
“Leon, get him out, I need to concentrate.” Merlin had no time for pleasantries.
Leon didn’t even talk to Gwaine, just pushed him by the shoulders backwards out of the tent.
As the canvas flaps closed behind Leon, Gwaine dropped his hands and shook Leon off, trying to make his way back inside.
“Not a chance,” Leon said, and held Gwaine back by the chest.
Gwaine silently struggled against Leon, tears spilling down his cheeks, and Leon let him for a few seconds before wrapping his arms around Gwaine in a strong embrace.
The pair stood there, sobs wracking Gwaine’s body and Leon just held him, his hand cradling the back of Gwaine’s head and his other arm supporting his back.
Leon lost count of how long he was stood there for, but he saw Lancelot appear over Gwaine’s head. The other man made to speak, but Leon made a gesture for him to stay silent, and he did so. Gwaine’s body had stopped shaking, and his breathing was more controlled. Leon made to move sideways as he walked to a nearby log, and sat there with Gwaine, arm around his shoulder.
Lancelot looked at the sight before him. His friend was in pieces, and he could imagine why. He went and sat down next to Gwaine, taking Gwaine’s hand in his own. The smaller knight didn’t seem to notice. Lancelot’s eyes met Leon’s. Percival? he mouthed and Leon nodded. Lancelot squeezed Gwaine’s hand and he felt a drop of water, a solitary tear, drip onto their hands. Lancelot’s thumb wiped it away.
Merlin flung open the tent door. “Leon!” He shouted, and the taller man damn near jumped up and sprinted over, following Merlin inside.
Lancelot winced as Gwaine squeezed his hand with a tremendous force, and Lancelot heard his breathing quicken. His leg was bouncing up and down. His free hand was trembling.
He stepped off the log and crouched in front of Gwaine. Lancelot gripped Gwaine’s hands with both of his, brought them together and rubbed his thumb over Gwaine’s knuckles.
“Breathe with me.” Lancelot exaggerated his breathing and did so until Gwaine kept time with him. He then slowed the pace down, until Gwaine’s leg stopped shaking. He squeezed his hands, and Gwaine squeezed back.
“Thank you.” Gwaine spoke so quietly Lancelot wasn’t sure he’d even heard him.
Elyan and the King arrived.
Elyan looked shattered. Bloodied and bruised and limping, but alive. He was talking with the King, but neither Gwaine nor Lancelot could focus on anything but breathing together.
The last thing Lancelot wanted was for the King to ask, and to his credit, Arthur kept his distance. Elyan came and sat next to Gwaine, a hand rubbing up and down his back, trying to soothe the tension.
Arthur could tell what the issue was. He steeled himself before heading into the medical tent.
And what a scene he found before him.
Leon had his sleeves rolled up, chainmail in a lump on the ground, and both hands pressed hard into Percival’s torso. Merlin was working with the haste of a madman to staunch the blood flowing from a deep wound in Percival’s side.
“Arthur. Either you help or you leave.” Merlin’s voice was tight with strain, as if he could hardly focus on speaking at all. He couldn’t think about titles.
Arthur breathed, taking in the scene around him but controlling his emotions.
“What can I do?”
***
Slowly the other knights arrived at the camp, weary but mostly uninjured. Elyan had joined Gwiane on the log, hand on his shoulder and Lancelot was on the other side of Gwaine. Between them they had started mindless chatter, but that fizzled out after a good few attempts. The pair could not rouse Gwaine from his thoughts.
A few times Elyan had felt Gwaine shaking beneath his touch, and took the knight’s hand in his own, squeezing gently to match his breathing, until Gwaine’s breathing matched his and his hands squeezed Elyan’s in unison.
Lancelot had one eye on his friends and one eye on the tent flap. It had been relatively quiet. No one had entered or exited the tent, and Lancelot wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing, but he couldn’t focus on that. All that mattered was helping his friend through what must be the worst night of his life.
As other knights came and went, they didn’t make a comment. Each man noticed, nodded, and continued walking. Some headed into the medical tent themselves, with head injuries, an injured arm hanging limply by the side, someone was being helped in by two men, one either side, and it looked like he had lost his leg from the knee down.
Gwaine was somewhat less manic, able to breathe steadily consistently without interference from Lance and Elyan who were still sat with him. The pair had tried to engage conversation, and Gwaine had made a few one-word comments.
The night sky was brightening with the imminent dawn approaching. Firelight was becoming obsolete for seeing the wounds and battle-worn soldiers, and Gwaine didn’t want to look, but couldn’t help himself. It had been so long, and still nothing from the medical tent.
Elyan had asked Gwaine if he wanted him to try and find out how things were, but Gwaine had shook his head.
No news was good news.
The adrenaline was finally starting to leave Gwaine’s system and he was feeling tired. His eyelids kept drooping and his head nodded. Elyan gently pulled him onto his shoulder so he could at least not get a crick in his neck, even if he didn’t sleep. Although, Elyan reckoned that he was just as tired.
***
Gwaine must have drifted off, because when he next opened his eyes, Lance was no longer at his side. He tensed, and Elyan patted his leg in comfort.
“Nothing’s happened, Gwaine, there’s been no change.”
Elyan meant it as a comforting statement, but Gwaine took it as otherwise.
Percival was still in the tent. Fighting for his life.
The dawn lit up the tent doors as they were pushed aside, and out walked a very weary Leon and Arthur both covered in blood.
Gwaine was on his feet before Elyan could blink, and on shaky legs he ran over to the two knights.
“Gwaine.” Arthur started heavily. Gwaine couldn’t breathe, his vision blurred. He would have fallen, but Leon’s arms clasped his shoulders and held him steady.
“Percival is alive, but he is very weak.” And Gwaine exhaled. “It was touch and go for a while. Merlin has done all he can, as has Leon.” Arthur clasped the other knight on the back with a bloodied hand. “Gwaine, you should go and sit with Percival. Leon you need rest, and you need it now. Go get some sleep.”
Leon was too tired to protest. He gave a weak, “Sire,” before leaving, approaching Elyan.
“Lancelot is in there with him. He is taking over from Merlin, who looked like he might fall over if he didn’t stop soon. Lance is very capable,” Arthur added when Gwaine grimaced at the lack of a physician around Percival. Not because he didn’t believe he was able, but because he just wanted Percival well. “Go and join him.”
“Thank you, Sire,” Gwaine forced out before heading towards the medical tent. He steeled himself for what he might see, and entered.
The first thing Gwaine noticed, is how quiet it was. A handful of the beds were empty, a lot of the injured soldiers were sleeping, or at least they looked like they were sleeping. There was none of the chaos of before.
The second thing Gwaine noticed, was Percival.
The knight had bandages wrapping his torso, his left shoulder, and his right leg was lifted off the bed, resting atop a knight’s cloak. He looked very peaceful which startled Gwaine somewhat, but he saw the very shallow rise and fall of Percival’s chest. The relief was overwhelming and he felt his knees start to buckle, but composed himself, and walked towards the bed.
Gwaine took hold of the empty chair by the bed and sat down. His vision blurred and he didn’t know how he could shed yet more tears but they spilled onto his cheeks without restraint. He grabbed Percival’s good hand gingerly, and pressed the back of his partner’s hand to his mouth. The saltwater from his tears mixed with the saliva left by his lips, but Gwaine didn’t notice. He held Percival’s hand to his cheek and sniffed.
“Oh, Perce.” Gwaine’s voice cracked saying his lover’s name. He dropped his head as he cried. Gwaine clutched Percival’s hand in both of his, took a few shuddering breaths and raised his head. He took as deep a breath as he could.
“You need to be strong,” Gwaine’s voice was barely above a whisper. “You need to keep fighting. The battle is over, the war is won, and we need you to be with us to celebrate.”
The shallow but steady rise-and-fall of Percival’s chest was the only response.
Gwaine sighed, his face still wet but he dared not let go of Percival’s hand, it was the only thing keeping Gwaine grounded. Percival was still alive, and whilst Gwaine was still watching his chest move, feeling the warmth in his hand and heard his shallow breathing, there was hope.
And Gwaine would not lose that.
Gwaine heard voices behind him, it was Lance and Gwen. Much to Lance’s distaste, Gwen was helping in the medical tent alongside Merlin. She wanted to be of help, which meant not staying in the confines of the castle walls, and as a very strong-willed lady, Lance backed down begrudgingly.
Lance stood next to Gwaine, sighing softly, and clapped a hand on Gwaine’s shoulder. “He’s a strong man, and a fighter. He will make it.”
Gwaine wished he felt as confident as Lancelot sounded. He gave a small nod.
Gwen rounded the bed and lay the back of her hand against Percival’s forehead. Her expression betrayed no emotion, and she placed a wet cloth carefully on the knight’s brow. She turned to Gwaine, and her eyebrows pinched as she came over to him. Lance moved away as Gwen placed her hand on top of Gwaine’s, and her other hand wiped away his tears. Her cool skin was a comfort against Gwaine’s cheek and the knight started to lean into her touch, but Gwen’s hand withdrew, but was replaced by her cheek against his as she crouched to his level and enveloped him in a strong embrace.
“He will make it.” Gwen echoed Lance’s word to add potency and belief.
And then, she was gone. Lance followed her out of the tent. Gwaine was again alone, and that terrified him.
He clutched at Percival’s hand harder, hoping to elicit some kind of response, but stopped when he realised just how hard he gripped his partner’s hand when the tips of Percival’s fingers started to go red.
Gwaine’s drowsiness had returned, and even with the situation in front of him, and the early morning light illuminating the white linen of the tent, his eyes were struggling to stay open.
“Please wake up, love,” Gwaine whispered, as he dropped his head on the bed, rubbing his fingers over Percival’s knuckles.
***
Something landed on Gwaine. He jolted awake and jumped to his feet, ready to fight once his vision had cleared.
“Gwaine, it’s me.” A voice came from in front of him. His vision focused, and Merlin was stood opposite him, in the bright light of day, on the other side of the bed.
Percival’s bed. Gwaine looked down, eyes wide.
There was no change.
“Have you been here all night?” Merlin asked calmly. He started to unwrap the bandages on Percival’s shoulder, with fresh dressings laid on the table. Gwaine nodded, sitting down. He was blinking at the light.
“Can you help me?” Merlin started to put his hands behind Percival’s shoulders to lift him, being careful of his injured joint. Gwaine helped, and held him steadily as Merlin unwrapped the bandages around his shoulder and arm. The acrid smell of metallic dried blood filled Gwaine’s nostrils and he shied away, not for queasiness but for not wanting to see the wounds. He leaned Percival against his chest and held him gently, as he had done many times before, but under completely different circumstances.
Merlin took a cloth and a bowl of water and wiped away the blood before dressing the wound with a clean binding.
Merlin frowned. He hummed. “Can you hold him whilst I check his waist?”
Gwaine nodded. He perched on the bed, making himself and hopefully Percival more comfortable. He stroked Percival’s jawline and lightly touched his collarbone. This time, Gwaine watched as Merlin unwrapped the linen, he needed to see.
There was a deep wound in Percival’s side, and slashes all over his stomach. Gwaine winced as a linen scrap got caught in a blood clot forming a scab, which tore open letting fresh blood run freely. Merlin staunched it quickly with one hand, and continued taking the bandage off with the other.
Gwaine breathed a small sigh of relief when he noticed that Percival’s birth mark just above his groin on his right side had not been pieced by a wound. It was Gwaine’s favourite place to tease and Percival squirmed under his touch every time.
For the first time during the whole ordeal, Gwaine smiled. It was a strange sensation, but the memory was too soothing not to.
He manoeuvred himself and Percival around Merlin’s hands as Merlin swaddled the knight.
“You haven’t said a single word,” Merlin mused as he continued with his work. There was a thicker swab of material over the bleeding cut, and Merlin wrapped around it, holding it in place. “Percival will be fine. You know what he’s like. Nothing can fell him. And if it does? He’s back on his feet in no time.” He finished tying off the bandages, but Gwaine held Percival still, not wanting to let go. “You can stay here as long as you need to, Gwaine, but Arthur and the other knights will soon be preparing to head back to Camelot, and you’ll be needed to help. Arthur can hardly afford to be without one of his most trusted knights, let alone two of you.” He smiled softly and sadly, looking Gwaine in the eyes. "Percival doesn’t know how lucky he is.”
Gwaine snorted, but he clutched Percival tighter to his chest.
“Thank you, Merlin.”
Merlin nodded, acknowledging the words and their sincerity, and moved over to another bed, before leaving the tent.
Gwaine sat there in silence, stroking Percival’s forearm. He stared ahead, not looking at anything in particular, just focusing on the rhythm of his hand stroking Percival’s arm. Up. Down. Up. Down.
Gwaine shifted on the bed slightly, and a small gasp drew between Percival’s lips.
“Percival?”
He could see Percival’s eyes moving behind his eyelids, and Gwaine carefully shifted off the bed and into the chair. Or at least he tried to. He heard another gasp from his partner when Gwaine accidentally jolted Percival’s side.
Gwaine sat in the chair, leaned forwards and clutched at Percival’s hand. He needed to see Percival's eyes open.
Percival’s eyelids flickered. Gwaine wondered if it was his eyes playing tricks on him, but the tent was brightly illuminated. There was no mistaking it.
A small cough. A pinched expression. Then, Percival’s eyes slowly opened.
Gwaine felt his own life flow back into him.
“Hello, gorgeous.”
Percival tilted his head slightly to look, and when his eyes met Gwaine’s, a smile reached his lips.
“Gwaine,” he breathed, barely above a whisper.
It was like a choir in Gwaine’s ears. The smile grew across his face and he stood up to plant a kiss on Percival’s forehead.
“Hello, you,” Gwaine said, his voice cracking on the last syllable, but he held strong. “It’s good to have you back.”
Percival closed his eyes and tried to breathe deeply, grimacing in pain.
“Did we win?”
A small, disbelieving chuckle left Gwaine’s mouth. After everything Percival had been through, the first thing he asked about was the battle. “Yes, we won.” Another small smile from Percival. Gwaine kissed the back of Percival’s hand, not letting go. He sat back in the chair, grateful as his legs were starting to give way.
“You nearly died.” The words were out of Gwaine’s mouth before he could stop them. There was a deep inhale from Percival, but Gwaine couldn’t tell if that was a response to him or to the pain. Gwaine took a wobbly breath before continuing. “Merlin and Leon were with you for so long. It was dawn before they let me see you.”
Percival opened his eyes, a small, confused expression crossing his face. He met Gwaine’s countenance. “Let you see me?”
Gwaine sighed. “I was a mess when I saw how you were. A mess of fear. I couldn’t fucking breathe without Lance’s help. I was in such a state that if I had stayed with you, I’d have been in the way of Merlin and Leon working.” Gwaine breathed, moving his gaze away from Percival’s. “I could have, would have made things worse, so I had to stay outside. Away from you.”
Percival squeezed Gwaine’s had, or tried to, but the slight increase in pressure gave Gwaine something to cling to, that Percival’s strength was returning to him, and that he would be okay.
“But you’re here now.”
Gwaine’s gaze returned to meet Percival’s.
“And I’m not going anywhere.” Percival stopped, then continued, “Not if I could if I wanted to, anyway.”
Gwaine breathed.
“And I don’t want to, Gwaine.”
The tent doors flapped open, and in walked the King.
Arthur looked rough, but his face lit up when he saw Percival awake. Gwaine reluctantly moved so the King could greet his knight properly.
“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” he spoke with love in his voice. “I’m glad you’re back with us. Percival.”
The knight lifted his hand as high as he could, and Arthur clasped it strongly. “Sire.”
Arthur nodded proudly. “Get some rest. We’ll need you back to keep this one in order. He seems to listen to you, rather than his King.” There was no malice in Arthur’s words. He let go of Percival’s arm and clamped a hand on Gwaine’s shoulder. He leaned down and spoke in Gwaine’s ear. “Take care of him, and take care of yourself too. You have the rest of the week off, as soon as we get back to Camelot.” He gave Gwaine a knowing smile, then left.
“Thank you, Sire,” Gwaine called after Arthur.
“Please, stay Gwaine.” Percival reached for Gwaine’s hand, which Gwaine took, and he leaned over and kissed Percival softly. Gods, how long has it been since I did that, Gwaine wondered to himself. He caught a glimpse of Merlin looking in their direction and smiling, but he left the pair to it.
“Don’t worry, love, I promise there’ll be no end, not tonight, or tomorrow, or ever, if I get my way.” Gwaine’s smile was huge and bright. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Things might just be okay.