Fic: Some Small Happiness (Is Sometimes Hard to Find)
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1331
Warnings: episode spoilers for 5.6, canon character death
Pairing: Percival/Elyan
Summary: Percy is struggling with the loss of Elyan. Merlin goes to talk to him.
Read on AO3
Percival stared up at the canopy of his bed without seeing it. In his mind he was still standing in the dimness of the Dark Tower, still staring down at Elyan’s splayed body. He squeezed his eyes shut and rolled onto his side, knees against his chest. He was so deafened by the memory of the queen’s sobs that he didn’t hear his name being called until a gentle hand touched his shoulder. For a heart-stopping second, he imagined that the past few days had been a dream, and that Elyan was still alive and had snuck into his chamber for the night.
His heart sank when he turned and saw blue eyes staring at him, not brown.
“Merlin,” he croaked, wincing at the hoarseness of his own voice, “what is it?”
“Nothing,” the servant answered. “I just…wanted to make sure you were alright. I saw you, at the funeral.”
Percival swallowed. He had long since run out of tears by the time they had actually burned Elyan’s body. The two day journey back to Camelot had seen to that. But the hollow, deadened feeling had been plain on his face, and he hadn’t cared to hide it. Merlin shifted closer now, resting his hip against the mattress.
“It’s alright. You can talk to me about it, you know,” he continued, and Percival knew by the look in his eyes exactly what Merlin meant by ‘it’. The relationship between Merlin and Arthur was no secret amongst the knights or the queen, but he and Elyan had been different. Still, Percival wasn’t surprised to find that Merlin had known all along.
“Shouldn’t…you be with…” Percival rasped rather than respond, fighting the burn of tears. Merlin shook his head.
“Arthur is comforting Gwen tonight,” he said, with his usual lack of honorifics. It had always made Elyan smile, to know there were others who knew his sister by name rather than by her title. Percival stayed silent, afraid if he spoke he wouldn’t be able to hold back the tears. Merlin didn’t seem to mind his silence, and Percival was grateful that he didn’t push further. It was something Elyan had done, whenever everything got to be too much and Percival had retreated to contemplate the blood on his hands. Elyan had always been there, a silent comfort until Percival was ready to talk.
It hurt more than anything that he wasn’t there now.
Forcing himself to breathe through his nose, Percival turned onto his side again. He felt as though he’d been punched repeatedly in the stomach, bile high in his throat. He was vaguely aware of Merlin’s shifting behind him, and thought for a moment that he was leaving, but then his voice interrupted the silence.
“You know, when he first came to Camelot, Elyan tried to kill me,” he said with something horrifically like a laugh in his voice. Percival squeezed his eyes shut tighter, praying Merlin would stop. It had been easy enough when people had only spoken of Elyan in the rushed, respectful way one used on the high-born dead, because it had been so ill-fitting to the man in life. Elyan had been lively and mischievous in a way that no one who listened to the solemn memorials recited by Geoffrey could imagine. But this was different, because Merlin had known Elyan, and he said nothing of upstanding chivalry or unflinching gallantry and that made it so much more real Percival wanted to scream.
He didn’t need this, couldn’t bear it, couldn’t bear to hear his name, too soon, too soon-
But Merlin hadn’t ever learned to hold his tongue, and continued, “It was my birthday, and Arthur let me loose early. Elyan made me a dagger, just a simple thing, and we went to the Rising Sun to celebrate. A few hours later, he decided it’d be a brilliant idea to teach me how to use my dagger. Turns out I’m even worse with a blade drunk than I am sober. I had to tell Arthur I’d fallen off of Gaius’ ladder to explain all the cuts and bruises.”
He chuckled at the memory. Percival said nothing. He still felt hollow, but the faintest of smiles pulled at his lips for a moment.
“He made something else for me, a few years later,” Merlin added, and there was something in his voice, some quietness that said this story wasn’t often told that made Percy pay attention, “after you’d all been knighted and Elyan sold the forge. He snuck into the royal smith’s place and worked all night just because I’d mentioned it. It was a…a necklace. For Arthur.” Again, Percival said nothing as Merlin paused. “He still wears it sometimes at feasts. And I think Elyan enjoyed being in the forge again, even if it was just for the night.”
Percival knew that was true. Elyan had had a habit of sneaking off to the forge when he was stressed to take his mind off of things. There’d been many nights when he’d woken to Elyan sneaking into bed, the smell of the fire stuck to his warm skin. He felt a rush of gratitude that Merlin had understood Elyan enough to know that and give him some small happiness.
“Elyan taught me how to dance,” Percival admitted, very quietly. “I was panicking because it was my first feast as a knight and I was going to embarrass myself in front of the entire court. Elyan calmed me down and taught me enough to get away with for a night.” It was also the first night they’d fallen into bed together, but he kept that to himself. He’d rolled onto his back at some point, and could see Merlin looking at him with a small, encouraging smile. “I stepped on his feet. A lot.”
Merlin laughed. Percival almost found himself joining in, but settled instead for a weak smile, remembering the way Elyan had tried to hide his winces. Elyan had been a beautiful dancer in the way that Percival was not. Personally, Percival thought it was because Elyan was constantly in motion, swaying his hips or shifting his weight, or just tapping his fingers. He did that a lot, the tapping. Percival had lost count of how many times they’d sat together with Elyan’s fingers drumming rhythms into Percival’s skin. Or sometimes, when they were sleepy and warm and possibly a little drunk, Elyan’s hands would just trail up and down Percival’s body in a pattern only Elyan could see.
“He cared for you a great deal,” Merlin said quietly, and Percival realized he’d said all of that out loud, but couldn’t bring himself to feel ashamed.
“Yeah,” he agreed. And that was probably all that needed to be said on the subject, but suddenly, Percival realized he couldn’t stop talking. He told Merlin about the time Elyan helped him through a cold, and how Percival had repaid him by sneaking down to the kitchens and stealing one of the pastries Elyan denied loving. Merlin laughed at the story about Elyan trying and failing to learn how to sew and grudgingly allowing his sister to pin up his new knight robes instead. Merlin listened until Percival’s eyes began to droop, and his words slurred gently together until they stopped altogether, and he slept, not quite peacefully, but more soundly than he had in days.
In his dreams, he was standing in an unfamiliar field. In front of him was a tall, gnarled tree that he recognized from a story Elyan had told him about from his travels-and there Elyan was, smiling at him and leaning against the tree’s trunk. He stretched out a hand and Percival went willingly, happily, covering Elyan’s lips with small kisses until they were both laughing too much and Elyan gently pushed him down to lay in the grass.
Percival smiled in his sleep. In the morning, his grief would still be there, but maybe…maybe now he could face it.
Word Count: 1331
Warnings: episode spoilers for 5.6, canon character death
Pairing: Percival/Elyan
Summary: Percy is struggling with the loss of Elyan. Merlin goes to talk to him.
Read on AO3
Percival stared up at the canopy of his bed without seeing it. In his mind he was still standing in the dimness of the Dark Tower, still staring down at Elyan’s splayed body. He squeezed his eyes shut and rolled onto his side, knees against his chest. He was so deafened by the memory of the queen’s sobs that he didn’t hear his name being called until a gentle hand touched his shoulder. For a heart-stopping second, he imagined that the past few days had been a dream, and that Elyan was still alive and had snuck into his chamber for the night.
His heart sank when he turned and saw blue eyes staring at him, not brown.
“Merlin,” he croaked, wincing at the hoarseness of his own voice, “what is it?”
“Nothing,” the servant answered. “I just…wanted to make sure you were alright. I saw you, at the funeral.”
Percival swallowed. He had long since run out of tears by the time they had actually burned Elyan’s body. The two day journey back to Camelot had seen to that. But the hollow, deadened feeling had been plain on his face, and he hadn’t cared to hide it. Merlin shifted closer now, resting his hip against the mattress.
“It’s alright. You can talk to me about it, you know,” he continued, and Percival knew by the look in his eyes exactly what Merlin meant by ‘it’. The relationship between Merlin and Arthur was no secret amongst the knights or the queen, but he and Elyan had been different. Still, Percival wasn’t surprised to find that Merlin had known all along.
“Shouldn’t…you be with…” Percival rasped rather than respond, fighting the burn of tears. Merlin shook his head.
“Arthur is comforting Gwen tonight,” he said, with his usual lack of honorifics. It had always made Elyan smile, to know there were others who knew his sister by name rather than by her title. Percival stayed silent, afraid if he spoke he wouldn’t be able to hold back the tears. Merlin didn’t seem to mind his silence, and Percival was grateful that he didn’t push further. It was something Elyan had done, whenever everything got to be too much and Percival had retreated to contemplate the blood on his hands. Elyan had always been there, a silent comfort until Percival was ready to talk.
It hurt more than anything that he wasn’t there now.
Forcing himself to breathe through his nose, Percival turned onto his side again. He felt as though he’d been punched repeatedly in the stomach, bile high in his throat. He was vaguely aware of Merlin’s shifting behind him, and thought for a moment that he was leaving, but then his voice interrupted the silence.
“You know, when he first came to Camelot, Elyan tried to kill me,” he said with something horrifically like a laugh in his voice. Percival squeezed his eyes shut tighter, praying Merlin would stop. It had been easy enough when people had only spoken of Elyan in the rushed, respectful way one used on the high-born dead, because it had been so ill-fitting to the man in life. Elyan had been lively and mischievous in a way that no one who listened to the solemn memorials recited by Geoffrey could imagine. But this was different, because Merlin had known Elyan, and he said nothing of upstanding chivalry or unflinching gallantry and that made it so much more real Percival wanted to scream.
He didn’t need this, couldn’t bear it, couldn’t bear to hear his name, too soon, too soon-
But Merlin hadn’t ever learned to hold his tongue, and continued, “It was my birthday, and Arthur let me loose early. Elyan made me a dagger, just a simple thing, and we went to the Rising Sun to celebrate. A few hours later, he decided it’d be a brilliant idea to teach me how to use my dagger. Turns out I’m even worse with a blade drunk than I am sober. I had to tell Arthur I’d fallen off of Gaius’ ladder to explain all the cuts and bruises.”
He chuckled at the memory. Percival said nothing. He still felt hollow, but the faintest of smiles pulled at his lips for a moment.
“He made something else for me, a few years later,” Merlin added, and there was something in his voice, some quietness that said this story wasn’t often told that made Percy pay attention, “after you’d all been knighted and Elyan sold the forge. He snuck into the royal smith’s place and worked all night just because I’d mentioned it. It was a…a necklace. For Arthur.” Again, Percival said nothing as Merlin paused. “He still wears it sometimes at feasts. And I think Elyan enjoyed being in the forge again, even if it was just for the night.”
Percival knew that was true. Elyan had had a habit of sneaking off to the forge when he was stressed to take his mind off of things. There’d been many nights when he’d woken to Elyan sneaking into bed, the smell of the fire stuck to his warm skin. He felt a rush of gratitude that Merlin had understood Elyan enough to know that and give him some small happiness.
“Elyan taught me how to dance,” Percival admitted, very quietly. “I was panicking because it was my first feast as a knight and I was going to embarrass myself in front of the entire court. Elyan calmed me down and taught me enough to get away with for a night.” It was also the first night they’d fallen into bed together, but he kept that to himself. He’d rolled onto his back at some point, and could see Merlin looking at him with a small, encouraging smile. “I stepped on his feet. A lot.”
Merlin laughed. Percival almost found himself joining in, but settled instead for a weak smile, remembering the way Elyan had tried to hide his winces. Elyan had been a beautiful dancer in the way that Percival was not. Personally, Percival thought it was because Elyan was constantly in motion, swaying his hips or shifting his weight, or just tapping his fingers. He did that a lot, the tapping. Percival had lost count of how many times they’d sat together with Elyan’s fingers drumming rhythms into Percival’s skin. Or sometimes, when they were sleepy and warm and possibly a little drunk, Elyan’s hands would just trail up and down Percival’s body in a pattern only Elyan could see.
“He cared for you a great deal,” Merlin said quietly, and Percival realized he’d said all of that out loud, but couldn’t bring himself to feel ashamed.
“Yeah,” he agreed. And that was probably all that needed to be said on the subject, but suddenly, Percival realized he couldn’t stop talking. He told Merlin about the time Elyan helped him through a cold, and how Percival had repaid him by sneaking down to the kitchens and stealing one of the pastries Elyan denied loving. Merlin laughed at the story about Elyan trying and failing to learn how to sew and grudgingly allowing his sister to pin up his new knight robes instead. Merlin listened until Percival’s eyes began to droop, and his words slurred gently together until they stopped altogether, and he slept, not quite peacefully, but more soundly than he had in days.
In his dreams, he was standing in an unfamiliar field. In front of him was a tall, gnarled tree that he recognized from a story Elyan had told him about from his travels-and there Elyan was, smiling at him and leaning against the tree’s trunk. He stretched out a hand and Percival went willingly, happily, covering Elyan’s lips with small kisses until they were both laughing too much and Elyan gently pushed him down to lay in the grass.
Percival smiled in his sleep. In the morning, his grief would still be there, but maybe…maybe now he could face it.