Percival

Things were looking better for King Arthur after his uncle Agravaine had been exposed as the great traitor in league with Morgana. The young King was finally finding his feet as a ruler and also benefited from the unfailing support of Guinevere, whom he had recently made his Queen. It looked like more peaceful times were ahead and everyone's spirits lifted somewhat.

Percival still enjoyed life in Camelot. He and Gwaine had grown close friends. They still sparred with each other occasionally outside of the regular knights' training sessions conducted by King Arthur himself. Percival concentrated much on keeping his form and developing his fighting skills, trying new types of weapons. He still had quite many things to learn as a warrior.

One time he asked Arthur for leave to go and visit Longstead. The King knew about Percival's story and granted his permission without hesitation.

It was good for Percival to see Gareth and all his other old friends again.

"I'm very sorry for what happened back then," Lothar, Bree's father, said when he shook the young knight's hand in welcome, referring to his and perhaps in particular his wife's reaction to their daughter's running away.

"Don't be. It's all forgotten," Percival replied, grasping his hand heartily. He saw no reason to hold a grudge. After all, even though he still sometimes blamed himself for his family's death, Percival would never have become a knight if he had not been forced to leave Longstead. He would never have met Arthur, or Gwaine. And his visit to his home village also showed him how much he had changed since then. He could never see himself as a farmer again, and therefore he also felt some relief at going back to Camelot after a few days. The thing he was most satisfied about was having visited his family's graves. It allowed him to let go of the last bit of lingering grief in his heart.

A couple of years later Percival spotted Drea walking in the street. It was a long time since he had last seen her. She would be seventeen now. She was still very young, but she was not a child any more. She was quite skinny as was usual for her, but she had clearly acquired a woman's form. Her hair had grown longer and she was a little taller, too. But even though it was summer, she wore long sleeves, which puzzled him somewhat. Perhaps she was cold because she was so thin? When she turned her head for a short moment he caught a glimpse of her face and it took his breath away. She was more beautiful than ever. He was completely taken by her soft, sweet lips and those well-known delicate, glass-like features.

Soon, Drea.

It occurred to him that he knew so little about her life. For all he knew, she might never have thought of him since the day he brought her to Camelot. For all he knew, she might have a favourite of her own, might even be betrothed to someone. She disappeared in the crowd as he realised that the thought that she might never be his was the most terrifying idea that had entered his head since the time that he learned of his family's fate.

That night he could not fall asleep. He must talk to Drea. Seventeen was still quite young, but it would have to do. The time had come. Those who knew him would know he intended no harm for her. The only real question was how he should approach her. He wanted to tell her how he felt about her, but he did not want to overwhelm her. What should he say? Where should he seek her out? He would have to figure out soon.

Drea

One day my fears came true. Elvin suddenly came home in the middle of the day. I was sitting in the shop, working on a basket and thinking whether it was time for a lunch break when he burst in. Gertie had just left. Probably he had even been spying, waiting for his wife to leave.

"Can't hide now, can you, dirty wench?" he said, looming before me. He was angry because I had successfully evaded him for so long. But what scared me the most was that he was not drunk at all. With all his senses together it was unlikely that I could fight him off once more. Quickly I grabbed the knife that lay next to me on the floor and got to my feet, pointing it at him with a shaking hand, determined that he would not get me without a fight.

A couple of times he made to grab me, but I slashed the knife at his arms so he did not succeed. But then he managed to get hold of my wrist. He tried to get the knife from me, but I held on to it. I suppose I could have screamed for someone in the street to hear me, but I was so ashamed to even be in this situation. I was the outcast. What if no-one even wanted to help me? What if they thought I deserved what I got, like Elvin did?

He dragged me into the living room and fastened the lock on the door. My heart was pounding with fear. Then he dragged me further along into my own room, where he gave me a rattle and punched me in the ribs until I dropped the knife. I fought all that I could to get free of his hold, but he was too strong. Then he slammed me into the wall and pinched me against it with his own stinking body.

"You think you are too good for me, don't you? Well, you're nothing but a mongrel bitch," he snarled as he began tugging at the laces of my dress. I could not stand the feeling of his filthy hands touching me and it was like something snapped inside my head.

"Please, let me go," I begged, breaking into tears at the thought of what was to come. "Please, don't do it." Of course it didn't help one bit.