A/N – Oh, how I wish I could individually reply to the guests who posted reviews/asked questions for the last chapter. But, since I cannot, thank you very much for your continued support. AND thank you ALL for the reviews and comments! I must confess — any time I post a new chapter (or any piece of writing), I get really...REALLY stressed-out. I'm not all that confident in my abilities, and the fact the reviews/comments have been mostly positive really raises my spirits. And I am shocked so many of you are still reading!

Now were are on to chapter seven. Percival and Gwaine make their delivery to the brothel (there are a few adult themes in this chapter), and Percival tells Gwaine about a former paramour.

Chapter 7 – Secrets Shared

"I don't want to know why you're grinning," said Percival the following evening at dusk. He and Gwaine carried the bulging sacks of Idele's excess donations to offer the women at the brothel.

Gwaine adjusted a heavy sack over his shoulder and flashed a cheeky grin. "I look forward to seeing the ladies is all."

"Gwaine, please… We're not staying! It's a quick drop off and that's it."

"Have you ever been inside the brothel?"

"No, I have not."

"Why?"

"Because I don't want to pay women for sex. That doesn't appeal."

Percival could not imagine walking into a place, handing over coins, and disappearing into a room with a stranger and demanding she remove her clothes and… service him. He enjoyed women's bodies as much as the next man, but he desired a connection to the woman first, even if it was little more than a pleasant friendship.

Shifting the weight of his sack, he frowned, aware he was lying to himself. Percival was a romantic, and what he craved most of all was a relationship that combined love and sex, but after his experience with a certain woman, he wondered if it was possible. Obviously, it was for some, like King Arthur, but perhaps not Percival. Not every man was so lucky.

Gwaine's low chuckle cut into Percival's thoughts. "You are not required to have sex with the women if you visit; I haven't. But I've stopped in to peruse the beauties on occasion, share a quick drink, snacks, and maybe have one or two sit on my lap. All right, maybe a quick kiss. That's all. Always making assumptions about me."

"Yes, well, I'm not as outgoing as you, as you often point out."

"Can't have it all, I suppose."

They reached the front of the brothel and Percival stood back while Gwaine took charge and knocked. A petite woman with long, wavy blond hair answered the door. It was dim inside, so Percival had difficulty making out the details of her appearance, but she smiled, ushered them in, and closed the door behind them.

It took a few moments for Percival's eyes to adjust to the low light, but what he saw made heat rise in his face. These women – too young in his opinion – wore clothing so tight and short it left nothing to the imagination. And those who did not wear skimpy clothes were clad in fabric so sheer, Percival saw every detail of their shape beneath the garments, as if they wore nothing at all.

Percival appreciated the female form, just as any healthy young man would, but seeing these women flaunt themselves made him flush with embarrassment. How could any woman want this type of life for herself, and what had driven them to this? And besides all that, where should he look? He decided in their eyes was best.

"Gwaine, my lovely!" A buxom young woman (about age eighteen) wearing a see-through shift launched herself into his arms and planted a wet kiss to his lips. "Haven't seen you in a while." She tossed her thick black hair over her shoulder. "Where've you been?"

"Oh, here and there, Anaed. A knight's work is never done." Gwaine dropped his sack onto the floor, and waved to several ladies who stood back against the far wall and giggled. "Hello, Kayna, Tegi, and Meran. Business good?"

Huddled together, they giggled again and nodded their heads.

"Gwaine, you know all their names?" whispered Percival.

"No, not all." Gwaine gave Percival a shove away from him, snatched the satchel from Percival's shoulder, and turned his attention back to the women. "Ladies, we have a few things for you: cloaks, shoes, and food, courtesy of Idele, a villager."

The buxom Anaed covered her mouth with her hand. "Oh, Idele! I know her! Poor woman. How is she doing?"

"She's good now." Gwaine gave a nod and opened up both sacks. "Tough times for a while, but better."

Anaed lowered her voice. "She came to me a few weeks ago. She wanted to ask questions about our work, said she might have to take on some shifts here. I told her not to and tried to give her a coin, but she wouldn't take it. I'm glad to see it didn't come to that."

Percival's heart broke over this news, to hear that Idele had been so close to prostitution. Yet Anaed's words also made him realize these women of the brothel were like any other decent women, caring and concerned about others.

"Ladies, let's have a look at our gifts!" said Anaed, and the rest of the women rushed forward and dug their way through the sacks, selecting items they needed. The cloaks and the food seemed the most popular, and a few of the women shoved bread right into their mouths.

They must be so hungry, thought Percival, once again reflecting on the fact that in this "Golden City," people suffered, went hungry, and sold their bodies to survive.

He tried to relax a little and peered around the roomy cottage. In the center of the room sat the table where he assumed the women took their meals. Along the walls were beds partially obscured by dark cloth hangings. Percival supposed to offer their clients a modicum of privacy, the women drew the hangings when they entertained customers. He could not imagine lying with a woman in such a place with people milling about. Staying home and managing his lust by himself sounded more appealing.

And besides the lack of privacy, the smell was killing him, as the thick odor of what seemed like perfume burning tickled his nose and throat, and the irritation made him cough.

Anaed, a seductive smile on her face, approached. "My, my, my, you sure are a looker. Why haven't I seen you here before?"

"Well, ah, I-I'm not really one to, ah, come to the brothel," he babbled, not wanting to insult this woman, but hoping he made it clear he was not interested in conducting a transaction.

But apparently, Percival had not been clear, because Anaed reached down and cupped his crotch. Despite Percival's nerves and extreme discomfort, his groin tightened. It had been about a year since a woman touched him, so of course his body responded in a predictable way. He took a step back, but Anaed's hand remained in place, so he tried stepping to the side, but missed a wrap that had been casually discarded on the floor. He slipped on the gauzy fabric and fell right on his arse, hard.

"Oh, I am sorry!" Anaed offered her hand to help up Percival, but he was already on his feet, more embarrassed than when he had walked in.

Gwaine bent over and clutched his side, howling with laughter. It took several long moments for him to comport himself, but once he did, he said, "Ladies, my friend is shy. Forgive him."

"Yes, really, I need to get back," said Percival. "Have a good night."

He flew out the front door before he humiliated himself again. If Gwaine wanted to stay behind, that was fine, but Percival was going home to have a drink, probably two. Frustrated, he marched his way up the steep path only to have Gwaine appear at his side.

"That, my friend, was the funniest thing I have ever seen!" said Gwaine. "You falling over like that…"

"So glad you found it amusing. I'm done for the evening, and I do not want company."

Percival jogged ahead. He was tired of providing comedic relief for Gwaine and embarrassing himself, so he decided he would lock himself in his chamber and spend a quiet evening alone.

"Percival, wait…"

Percival did not turn. He ran into the castle, up the stairs, pushed his way into his room, and bolted the door behind him. His gaze shifted to his dining table, and stopped on the jug of ale. He poured himself a tankard and took a long drink. He had planned on talking to Gwaine tonight about the goings-on with that woman last year – he hated to even think of her name – but instead, tonight, he would drink and think about another woman who had been on his mind of late, Fleur.

Annoyed and morose, he drained his tankard while picturing the scene from yesterday where Fleur's warm hands caressed his chest as she cleaned the blood from his skin. Had she felt it, the obvious connection between them? Percival had felt it when he bumped into her out in the corridor a mere two days ago. Was that all it had been? Two days?

And she had to have noticed their connection, otherwise, why had she been so keen to help Percival after Gwaine's injury? Or was that just the type of woman she was, caring? Perhaps that was how she treated everyone.

Aside from her kindness, Percival found her beautiful, probably the most gorgeous woman he had seen. He appreciated robust women with strong builds, not willowy ones who looked as if a stiff breeze might topple them. And the way her light hair and creamy skin emphasized those warm eyes? Perfection. Not to mention those curves, full in all the right places. Even though she seemed to want to deemphasize her sensuality, Percival picked up on it. And he sensed she did not find herself beautiful, which was a shame.

Fleur captivated him and he wanted to get to know her better. For the first time in a long time, possibly ever, he felt drawn to a woman. Of course, there had been that other woman, but that connection had been friendly (or so he thought) and sexual in nature. The way Percival felt for Fleur was so very different; every time he thought of her, he experienced a pleasant ache of wanting in his chest.

Percival poured himself another tankard of ale and took a sip; this was a strong batch.

Taking a seat on his bed, he considered that Fleur might not want anything to do with him. Yes, she was taller than most women, but Percival still stood a good head above her. And she might not be all that impressed with his broad build. So many women seemed overwhelmed by his imposing stature. But when she had cleaned him, she did not seem put off. No, she had exactly not thrown herself at him, but she did not seem displeased with his physique.

Still, he had mucked up things with two women now, that first girl to whom he had lost his virginity, and most recently… the woman whose name he did not want to think of.

"Oh, who am I kidding? I'm useless with women" He placed down his tankard on the bedside table and lay back. Within moments, thanks to the alcohol, he was asleep.

XXXX

BANG!

Percival groaned and rolled onto his back. What was going on? Construction in the castle? He opened his eyes a crack. No, it was still night time, so that was not possible.

BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!

That was the sound of someone beating on his chamber door with such force he wondered if it was news about the world ending.

"Who is it?"

"Open the damn door!"

"No, it's late. GO AWAY."

More banging. Why couldn't Gwaine leave him be?

Percival hopped up from bed, marched to the door, and flung it open wide. "What?" he barked, as Gwaine stood there, a sheepish look on his face, holding a jug of ale and a huge half ham tucked under his arm.

"Sorry?" Gwaine flashed a boyish smile. "Let me in, all right? We were supposed to talk about your troubles tonight. I'll be a friend and not an arse, I swear."

Percival crossed his arms over his chest and stood up tall. He wanted to tell Gwaine to piss off, but the scent of smoked ham and Gwaine's almost pleading smile made Percival's anger soften. "Oh, come in, then. But I want a center cut."

Gwaine walked inside and set up at the dining table, whipping out his belt dagger and carving up the meat. "All yours! But I need a little more light in here. And while you're at it, start talking about that woman."

Percival lit the wall torch with a rush wick. This was not going to be an easy conversation, but he figured it was best to start right in.

"Fine, but I don't want to say her name. I don't like to even think of it." He took his seat at the table across from Gwaine. "She's a courtier and lives here in the castle; I met her last year at the feast we had welcoming that envoy from Mercia. We sat together the whole night, talking. She was friendly and fun, but she had too much to drink, so I escorted her back to her chambers."

"I understand how that goes."

"She invited me in. I'd been with only one other woman, and it was just the once, so when she, uh, offered herself to me, I couldn't resist."

"Nor should you have." Gwaine popped a piece of ham into his mouth and chewed. "If a woman is willing and ready why would you deny yourself?"

"We'll save that conversation for another day, because you and I will never agree on that matter.

"Anyway, after that evening, we spent most of our time together drinking and engaged in… other pursuits."

"The type that don't involve clothing?"

The back of Percival's neck heated with embarrassment. "Yes. That. She taught me a lot about pleasing women. And she was eager and complimented me, which I needed at the time."

"Sounds good so far."

"It was good for two months. But even with the fun we had, I knew something was missing. She made it clear she was not interested in an official courtship, and she insisted we keep our meetings completely secret and never acknowledge each other around the castle. I agreed, because I assumed she didn't want people to think poorly of her, unwed, sharing a bed with a knight."

Gwaine sat back. "Where did it all go wrong?"

"At the end of the second month. Remember when the group of Camelot's courtiers and knights that had gone on the diplomatic mission to the Western Isles returned home? Well, the moment they entered the Great Hall, she launched herself into a man's arms, one of the returnees."

"That must have been unpleasant to witness."

"It was. Especially since the man turned out to be her husband." Percival bit the inside of his lip, picturing that woman dashing across the Hall, flinging herself at a man and shouting, "Husband! Welcome home!" The memory still made Percival's skin crawl.

"What?" Gwaine's eyes rounded in surprise. "She lied to you all that time? You didn't know she was married?"

Percival took several gulps of ale. "I had no idea. I wouldn't have touched her if I had known she had a husband. Clearly, she was bored and I was her plaything. She lied. She never cared about me at all." He toyed with his tankard. "I didn't love her, but I cared. And there's more."

"Something worse?"

"I avoided her since then, and thanks to the size of the castle, that wasn't so hard. Just when I felt like I was getting over the mess, I saw her a few days ago. She's with child."

Gwaine stopped chewing. "Oh, damn. Could it be yours?"

"No. We've been through for about a year."

"I'm sorry, mate. I had no idea. And I don't know how you kept it from me."

Gwaine's reaction surprised Percival. Percival expected his best friend to call him soft, to tell him to get over it, or something similar. Percival remained ashamed that he struggled to move on after this woman's deception, and could not figure out precisely why her lies had wounded him so badly. Yet he supposed wounds to one's pride took time to heal.

"Shame, I suppose, kept me from telling you. And feeling utterly stupid and humiliated over it all."

There was more, but Percival wanted to keep some things private. It helped, unburdening himself to Gwaine, but he did not have it in him to share his deepest thoughts and wants, such as his desire to fall in love with a woman who appreciated the same things he did, quiet times at home before the hearth, maybe reading and sitting close, and if she did not know how to read, he would teach her.

And he wanted a woman, one woman whose body he would become familiar with, and he would learn her likes and dislikes, working hard to please her in every way possible. He wanted to lie in bed with that woman tangled up in his long arms and legs, and he would tell her how much he loved her. Hopefully, she would whisper how she loved him in return.

Why was that so difficult, finding a woman to love, one who might love him back? Then again, he had done nothing to encourage women's attention during the last year. What did he expect? That one would fall out of the sky and into his lap? One had fallen into his arms in the corridor recently. If that was not some sort of sign, nothing was.

Gwaine polished off the rest of his ham slice. "Well, you shouldn't hold all that in. It'll give you a stomach ache or something. Might make your brain bleed." He waved his hand at Percival's plate. "Eat your damn ham. That'll help."

Percival chuckled, cut into his slice, and jammed a large hunk of salty pork into his mouth. He chewed, realizing his heart ached less than before. Gwaine had been right; holding in the hurt all this time had not helped at all. Yes, it had been awful being discarded by that woman with no explanation nor apology, but maybe it was time to try again and cut ties with the painful past. Brooding served no purpose.

"You're coming with me to the Gathering Day Festival the day after tomorrow, right?" asked Gwaine, kicking his feet up onto the dining table, resting his hands behind his head, appearing relaxed after his evening snack of ham and ale.

Gathering Day – the celebration of the summer solstice and the time to harvest mistletoe – was Percival's favorite festival of the year. "Sure. And I'll bring Rion. He'll love it."

"You really are attached to that little boy."

In an uncustomary move, Percival kicked his own feet onto the table and leaned back. "I really am."