A/N – All right, I think both Percival and you, my wonderful readers, have endured enough heartbreak and angst. Several of you replied with your thoughts on the previous chapter, and the general consensus was: NOOOO! :) The good news is that while this chapter starts out a little angsty, I believe many of you will be pleased by the end.

But before we dive in, once more, I want to thank you for reading, reviewing, following, and favorite-ing. We're approaching the conclusion of the story (just two more chapters and the epilogue), and for those of you who have read this entire tale, I thank you. While yes, there have been a few complaints, overall, the response has been very positive, and I cannot begin to tell you how much that means to me. I figured if I was lucky, I'd end up with a couple of followers, maybe a handful of reviews, but you have overwhelmed me with your kind words and support.

Now, without further ado, Percival sets out to find Fleur, thanks to some... encouragement.

Chapter 28 – Finding Fleur

It was the final morning of Percival's pity party, and he had spent the previous days blind-drunk, sick, and often, tearful. The tears bothered him the most, because what kind of Knight of Camelot wept like a baby? No other man would carry on in such a way after being jilted. Most would probably roam the streets within the hour and find a wench to take to bed to help him forget. But when Percival so much as thought about touching another woman, his skin crawled. What he and Fleur had, their bond, had been special and would never be replicated with another.

Maybe Percival should don a frilly pink dress at court in front of all and confess his weakness, that he was not man enough to endure heartbreak and soldier on. Then again, King Arthur had been quite torn up when he and Guinevere had been parted. Perhaps abject misery was not so unusual when one's heart hurt more than he ever imagined possible.

Percival groaned as the morning sunlight bore into his eyes like daggers. His mouth was as dry as a hay bale and his head throbbed like a mule had kicked it a hundred times. Two days of guzzling wine and mead had provided no relief. In fact, he felt worse than ever. Whoever said it was a good idea to drown one's sorrows in drink was an idiot.

With a scowl, Percival turned onto his side and gazed out the window. Rion was out there, hopefully having a wonderful time and learning lots. The boy would return home later this evening, so Percival needed to pull himself together by then.

Reaching up to scratch his head, Percival's vile body odor assaulted him. He was always particular about cleanliness and hygiene, unlike many other knights, but after three days of imbibing and not washing at all, he reeked of sweat and stale mead.

But before he rose and faced reality again, he allowed himself to recall the last time he and Fleur made love. Her touch had made him feel reborn. How was he to do without it for the rest of his life? Moreover, how much sadder would it be facing fatherhood alone? In the beginning, he assumed that was to be the case, but Fleur had shown him how much better it was to parent with a partner.

He peered out the window again. Where was she right now? Days away? On a ship back to Cornwall? Was she all right? Seasick? She still had not regained all her strength after her illness. Though she had wounded him, he was worried about her. He would never stop worrying about her.

Perhaps he needed a few more days off to drink and muse about his misery. He could pretend to be normal when Rion was home, but otherwise remain in bed, torturing himself with the memories of the only woman he had ever loved and would ever love.

Then he recalled that when Rion came home tonight, Percival and the boy would have to talk about Fleur's absence. There would be no avoiding the topic. Would Rion be devastated by her departure? Percival hoped not. Fleur had promised she would see Rion again, and Fleur was a woman of her word.

But when will she return? thought Percival. And when she came back, would she flit by him like he was a stranger? He would not be able to bear that.

With another groan – he'd groaned lots during the last few days – he ran his hands over the stubble on his jaw. He had no one for whom to shave any longer. Perhaps he'd grow a beard down to his chest. What difference did it make? What difference did anything make?

Out of nowhere, Percival's chamber door blasted open as if someone had used a battering ram. However, it was not an invader; it was just Gwaine. He kicked the door open so hard the bolt ripped off the doorjamb and splinters flew. It was not all that odd that Gwaine elected to enter in such a dramatic way, but the fact little Lila stormed in, her fair hair wavy and wild, her hands on her hips, surprised Percival. She marched up to the bed and shook her fist.

"You find Fleur now!" insisted the angry little toddler. "No more bedtime and being…" She looked over her shoulder to Gwaine for help.

"Stupid," mouthed Gwaine.

Lila rounded on Percival again. "No be stooopid, Sir Purple," she said with a fierce look, then wrinkled her nose. "And you stink. You take a bath!"

Percival pulled the covers over his bare chest. "Gwaine, is this necessary?"

Gwaine shrugged from the doorway. "I figured you wouldn't listen to me, so I brought reinforcements."

"Lila…" Percival pulled on his tunic and sat up. "Fleur doesn't –"

"No!" Lila interrupted, shaking her fist again. "You go now and don't be stooopid and…"

"Pitiful," added Gwaine. He approached the bed and took Lila's hand. "Come on, fierce little Lila. Let's bring you back to the nursery. Thank you for your help."

Once Gwaine was out in the corridor with the child, he called out, "I'll be back for you soon, Percival, so be ready."

Percival sat on the edge of his bed, weighing his options. He could give up his knighthood, hand over Rion to Gwaine to raise, and turn into the town drunk. He pictured himself living in a cave like a hermit, occasionally staggering into the Lower Town, unwashed and bedraggled, clutching a faded wineskin to his chest. Caterwauling nonsense, he'd collapse in the middle of the road. When men came up and kicked him in the ribs, demanding he move on, Percival would shout, "I wasn't always a madman like this! I had a woman I loved once!"

That was the most ridiculous, pitiful (Gwaine had chosen the proper word) future ever, and what Percival might very well face if he did not at least try to go after Fleur. He could not live with himself if he did not make a true effort to win her back. If she rejected him, he would be crushed, but he had to try. It was the right thing to do; his heart demanded it.

Before Percival had the chance to wash and change clothes, Gwaine was back in the room. "Stand up," said Gwaine, looming over the bed.

Percival rose, ready to tell Gwaine he was going after Fleur. But before Percival uttered a single word, Gwaine pulled back his fist and punched Percival in the jaw. Percival's head snapped back and his teeth clacked together. The blow was unexpected, so Percival lost his footing and hit the ground. Stars crossed his vision and he pressed his palm to his throbbing jaw.

"Gwaine!" Percival scrambled to his feet and grabbed his best friend by the front of his tunic. "Have you gone mad?"

"No, but you have! You cannot lie here like a sheltered princess, whining and sobbing, doing nothing because your betrothed left you. That's ridiculous and not the Percival I know. You need to pull yourself together, go after Fleur and –"

Percival slapped a hand over Gwaine's mouth. "That was what I planned to do until you punched me in the face."

"Oh," Gwaine mumbled through Percival's fingers. Percival dropped his hand. "You were just sitting there and I figured you'd given up. I thought you needed a little shove in the right direction. A shock, perhaps, to make you see reason."

"I saw reason just fine. I was merely gathering my thoughts before I bathed and dressed."

"Right. You should bathe, definitely, because you smell terrible. And clean your teeth. Your breath smells like a mule's back end."

Percival took a step back and crossed his arms over his chest. "Thank you for the lovely advice. And did you enjoy that punch?"

"Maybe a little." Gwaine smirked. "But we don't have time for pleasantries. We're leaving. Wash. Dress!"

"I didn't realize your punches and insults counted as 'pleasantries.'"

"No more stalling." Gwaine tossed over a soap cake and a linen cloth. "We need to set out now."

Percival disappeared behind the privacy curtain, stripped down, and washed with cold water from his ewer. As he scrubbed, a sudden realization came to him – Caron must have somehow been involved with Fleur running off. How could he have been so blind?

"Gwaine, I've been a total fool. I caught Caron arguing with Fleur in the corridor when I came home from Abertawe. She must be the reason Fleur's gone."

"Well, in your defense, you've been exceptionally drunk and dispirited, which does not help a man think clearly."

"I'll go to Caron, and –"

"No," Gwaine interrupted. "You must stay away from that witch. I'm sure she wants to see you so she can ensnare you in her web of deceit. Besides, she'll never tell you the truth about anything. Consider her useless. I have a better idea."

"You do? Fleur could be anywhere. Where do we begin?"

"The brothel."

"Why the brothel?"

"Trust me, big man, those women know everything about everything. It's a good place to start."

"Whatever you say." Percival pulled on fresh clothes and buckled his sword belt. He stepped out from behind the curtain while affixing his cloak and securing his belt pouch. "I'm open to any ideas."

XXXX

Percival hobbled his horse, then strode right up to the brothel door. He recalled his first visit here when he helped with the donations, close to a year ago, when the thought of being inside made him nervous and sweaty. He was nervous, but for an entirely different reason this time. If these women knew nothing about Fleur's whereabouts, he had no idea where to turn.

Gwaine stood beside him, and Percival knocked and knocked. He heard movement inside, and wondered why no one answered the door. During a break in his pounding, Anaed stuck her head out the window.

"What do you gentlemen want?" she asked, her tone cold as ice.

"What's the problem, Anaed? Open the door," said Gwaine.

"If you have no business here, I'm afraid you'll have to move on." After shooting Percival an angry glare, she let the window clatter shut.

"She knows something about Fleur. I can sense it," said Percival. "She wouldn't be so evasive otherwise."

"Definitely."

"What do we do now?"

"We're knights," said Gwaine cheerfully. "We force our way in. I'm sure we can get one of the ladies to tell us something."

Percival did not like the idea of breaking into the brothel and causing damage, but Anaed had left him with few options. She and Percival were friendly, and there was no reason for her to be so chilly and abrupt unless she knew something about Fleur's whereabouts and was trying to avoid him.

"All right." Percival's eyes swept up and down the heavy oaken door. "It's sturdy. We'll need to kick it in together. On the count of three. One… two… Wait!" He flung his arm in front of Gwaine and held him back. "Maybe it's open."

Percival pushed on the door; it was unlocked. Taking a deep breath, he walked inside with Gwaine right behind him. Despite the sunshine outdoors, the house was dim with curtains drawn and only a single candlestick glowing with pale amber light.

"What did I tell you?" Anaed stormed up to Percival. "If you two have no business here, LEAVE."

Casting off his last shred of pride, Percival fell to his knees before her. "Fleur left me. If you know where she is, Anaed, I am begging you to tell me."

Scowling, Anaed tapped her foot against the floor as her eyes narrowed. "Maybe I do. But like most men, I am sure you deserved to be left. You seem pleasant enough, but I've learned few men are to be trusted. When women come to us for help, we offer aid and ask no questions."

Percival glanced back at Gwaine, who appeared hurt by Anaed's words. Something had to be going on between the two of them, but Percival did not have time to consider it.

Not budging from his submissive position on the ground, Percival said, "Anaed, she left me a brief note saying to forgive her for leaving and nothing more. I love Fleur with my entire being. I've spent the last three days in a drunken stupor, miserable, trying to figure out where I went wrong. Maybe I'm not worthy of her, but I cannot help how much I love her."

Anaed's hard stare softened and she gave him a sad smile, so he carried on.

"I would give up anything to make sure Fleur understood how much I love her. Maybe it's asking too much to have her wed me as we planned, but if I cannot tell her how I feel, I don't know how I'll survive it. All I have wanted to do is love and treasure her. Nothing more."

"You must be angry that she left you," said Anaed.

He shook his head, his throat tightening with emotion. "I could never be angry with her. I love her too much. There is nothing she could do that I would not forgive. Let me tell her that, Anaed. Please."

Out of the corner of his eye, Percival caught a glimpse of a shadowy figure emerging from the back room.

"Hello, Percival."

It was Fleur. Though little light illuminated the space, seeing her before him warmed his heart as if the sun shone right into his chest. He remained on his knees and allowed her to draw closer.

"Shall we leave you two?" Anaed asked Fleur.

"Yes, it's all right," said Fleur, offering a hand and helping Percival to his feet. "I'd like to speak to him alone."

Anaed opened the front door and springtime sunshine flooded the room. "Right. But Gwaine and I will be just outside in case you need anything. Don't hesitate to call out."

"There won't be any need," said Fleur.

Percival wondered what that meant. Did it mean she was about to dismiss him quickly, or was there hope? There had to be hope, otherwise, she would not have come out to speak to him.

He studied her closely. Although she had walked away from him, seeing her beautiful face and those loving, warm eyes made his heart shudder. She still loved him; it was clear in her smile and the way she gazed at him with affection.

Fleur took his hand. "I am so sorry for the pain I caused you. I panicked. I realize that's not an adequate excuse for running off, but I promise, I was just about to return to you and beg your forgiveness."

All the misery and anxiety Percival had kept bottled up for the past three days left his body in a rush, and a warm surge of relief heated his insides. He could not stop himself from drawing Fleur close and holding her tightly. Percival tried to summon a shred of anger or disappointment, but with the woman he loved pressed to his body, he could do neither. Her reasons for leaving didn't matter. She had made a mistake, admitted it, and wanted to be with him again. He needed nothing more.

"I left because of Caron." Fleur took a step back, but kept her hands pressed against Percival's chest, as if she could not stand to break their connection. "She told me she was a woman of high status and would give you sons, real sons, whereas I was no better than a servant. She said if I cared for you, I would leave and not burden you with a marriage to a lowly nursemaid. That she would make you happy and wealthy. Hearing those words made me feel horrid and I wondered if there might be some truth to them."

It was all Percival could do to not burst into hysterical laughter over Caron's idiotic statement, but the wounded look in Fleur's eyes made him hold back. Caron was such a shallow fool.

"Fleur." Percival covered her hands with his. "Caron could give me a thousand palaces of pure gold and it would not matter. I would live in a hovel crawling with rats for the rest of my life if it meant I would be close to you. Caron offers me nothing, whereas you offer your heart. And that is all I need."

"I'm sorry." Tears spilled down her cheeks. "I've been emotional, not myself these days, and I regret the pain I've caused you with my rash and selfish behavior. I left you when you needed me and that was awful, but I promise I will never willingly leave you again. Can you forgive me?"

He thumbed away her tears. "There is nothing to forgive. You were manipulated and frightened into leaving. But there is one thing you can do to ease my worries."

"Anything."

"Marry me today, right here, right now." The words flew out of his mouth before he had time to fully consider the ramifications, but he needed this from Fleur. Marrying in a brothel was likely not Fleur's idea of a dream wedding, but he had to know she was willing to commit to him right away.

"Yes, of course I will. Right now. But there's something you must know first."

"What is it?" Again, he studied her closely. This time, he noticed her face was paler than usual and a little narrower. Dear gods, she was ill. Perhaps she had never recovered from her illness weeks ago, or, it was returning. Well, no matter how long they had together, be it days or years, he would love and protect her. Nothing would change his mind about wanting to marry her.

"I've not felt well for the last week."

"I can see that. You look tired and thinner. But you can sit down for our wedding, and then see Gaius right after. I'll take care of you, no matter what's wrong."

"Actually, I know what the issue is."

Percival braced himself for awful news. "Tell me, what is it?"

"I saw the midwife today," said Fleur.

Percival's thoughts raced. He'd heard of women dying from internal growths and whatnot. This had to be it. "And what did she say? Is your problem treatable?"

Fleur seemed to be suppressing a grin. "Very treatable. In fact, it'll be all over by Yule."

"I don't understand…"

"I'm with child, Percival. Nearly two months gone."