Again, there are some references to other stories I've written in my Stocks AU, but it's not necessary to have read them to read this.

Percival decided the fastest way to get Galahad home was to buy him a pony, rather than have him ride for days in front of the larger man. The boy was going to be sore no matter what, since he was a poor, city-bred type, and had never been on a horse in his entire life but it would still be the easiest way to get home. Before they left the city he took Galahad and his meager belongings to the local horse merchant, managing to find a young pony with what seemed to be a suitable temperament to get along with both an inexperienced rider and Percival's much larger gelding. Galahad named her Lyra after his baby sister. A quick and dirty riding lesson and they were on their way to Camelot. Percival was, for the first time in his life, not feeling the least bit sentimental for his the kingdom he was born in. He was, in fact, eager to shed its dust from his boots.

Percival had spent enough time around children to understand that a nine year old boy wouldn't want him making a fuss about his crying, so he let Galahad sniffle for the first hour of their trip without saying anything. After the sniffling subsided, he looked down at the hunched shoulders riding next to him and simply said, "Don't forget your water skin is right next to you on the saddle. Even though we're not walking, we're still doing work, to try to keep in rhythm with the horse's gait."

Galahad looked up at him, "My legs are burning. This is harder than I thought it would be."

"Yeah. You have to grip the horse, but not too tight. Move with the horse and not jostle around. But you're doing really well for someone who's never ridden before." Percival smiled. "Maybe when we get home I'll let you ride Maris."

"Who's Maris?"

"Maris is the horse I tend to ride into battle or jousting. This is Colum. My friend, Gwaine, named him. He's my regular horse. A lot of knights have two horses. One for everyday riding when we're not wearing an excessive amount of armor, and one for when we're in full armor. Maris is larger than Colum and can carry more weight."

"Will I have that? Two horses, I mean?" Galahad looked interested in the idea.

Percival shrugged. "I'm not sure. I have two horses because of my size. Gwaine only needs one. His horse manages to carry him and his armor without a problem. The king has two, as does Sir Leon. Sir Brennis only uses one." Percival shrugged again. "It really depends."

"Did my father have two or just one horse?"

"Lancelot only needed one. He never wore really heavy armor. His fighting style was less brute force and more agility, like Gwaine's." Percival looked Galahad over. "If you end up with his frame and build, you might go that way, too."

The two of them pulled off the trail a bit later to make camp for the night.

Galahad had never been out of the city, so he had no idea how to set up a camp for the night. Percival walked him through everything he had to do, from gathering wood, to laying the fire, to setting out his bedroll in a way that it wouldn't flood if it started raining in the night. Percival had planned on making it to the next town and staying in an inn, but since he'd spent the majority of his coin for lodging on getting Galahad set up for the trip it looked like the boy would get first-hand experience in the (not-so) glamorous life of a working knight.

"Sir Percival?"

Percival looked up from the fire he'd been watching. He thought the boy was already asleep, he had been so still. Galahad's eyes reflected the fire as he watched the big knight's slight movements. "Just call me Percival, Galahad. I get enough sir-ing from the people in town and on patrol."

Galahad nodded, a quick little movement that Percival would have missed had he not been watching the boy. "Percival, what can you tell me about my father?"

Percival knew this would be coming. He thought he had until some time tomorrow on the trail but it seemed Galahad's curiosity was getting the better of his exhaustion and soreness. He had been trying to remember everything Lancelot had ever told him of his childhood and his time before they had joined forces. "I don't know everything about your father, Galahad."

"I know. But can you just tell me how you met him, at least?" Galahad paused, "And how he died? You said he died saving people."

"I'll be honest, the one you want to tell you about his death is Merlin. He's the Court Sorcerer. He was there the entire time. I wasn't. Lancelot's death was really harder on him than anyone. When we get back to Camelot, I'll introduce you to him and you two can have a nice long talk about your father. He was your father's best friend in Camelot other than me." Percival sighed, "But as to how we met, well, that includes a stint in something you know quite well, apparently. We met in the stocks."

Galahad was yawning around his grin by the time Percival was done with his story of how the two met in a village in Escetir and had decided to team up. "That was funny, Percival."

"It was, wasn't it? Honestly, if I'd known meeting your father would have put me on the path that I'm on now, I probably wouldn't have given him such grief about landing us in the stocks in the first place. He's the reason I met Selene and am about to be a father. He's the reason I became a knight and have the friends I do now. And the friends I've lost." Percival smiled. "Remind me to tell you about Elyan one day. After you've met Gwaine and can picture the exact opposite of him."

The fire was down to embers now. Percival stoked it one more time. "Go to sleep, Galahad. I can tell you more tomorrow. It'll take us about three days to get to Camelot. We have plenty of time. Once we get there, you'll meet my wife and all of the others and we'll figure out exactly what's going to happen then."

"Alright, Percival. Do you think your wife will like me?"

Percival chuckled, "Galahad, my wife is one of the castle cooks. She'll fall all over herself to feed you until you're my size. Just don't get in Audrey's way. She's wicked fast with that spoon of hers."

The next morning Galahad was groaning at the pain in his legs so dramatically that Percival knew he and Gwaine were going to get along just famously. It might end up becoming a contest of just who was more dramatic than the other whenever Gwaine was visiting. Percival handed the boy a balm that he'd picked up but forgotten to give him last night night. "Rub this in your legs before you get on your pony. It will help with the pain. I should have given it to you last night. Sorry, Galahad."

The boy smiled his thanks as he took the jar from the Knight. He went into the trees to apply the balm. When he was done he tried to give it back to Percival but the man waved him off. "I bought it for you. I knew you'd be sore since you've never ridden before."

"Oh, thank you, Sir- Um, Percival." He tucked the balm jar in his saddle bags. "Will we get to Camelot today?"

Percival smiled. "No. It'll take us another two or three days to get home. Your pony can't go as fast as my horse, so we'll take our time. Not too long or Selene will murder me, of course, but enough that we get you there in one piece, not a quivering mass of jelly. Besides, Arthur knows when to expect me. If I take too long, I'll make him worry that the bandits have gotten me. Imagine the humiliation of having to be rescued from non-existent enemies. I'll have to find a deep, dark cave and hide for the rest of my life." Percival winked at the boy as they both mounted their horses, making him smile a bit at the thought of a knight the size of Percival afraid of some teasing and the wrath of his wife.

Percival and Galahad made good time on their journey. They made it to the camp for the second night without any problems. Galahad was a quick study and helped do some of the tasks without having to be reminded what they were or how to do them. Percival was sure he was still trying to make a good impression and was on his best behavior, but he would take it. He knew that would change once they got to Camelot and the boy settled in with Selene and Percival and felt more like family. Once he started acting like a typical nine year old, Percival would know that he was getting comfortable with the new arrangement. It would eventually happen and once it did Percival knew he would be tested. He hadn't been a very disobedient child himself, but he remembered what his mother would go through with his younger brother. Rosalie said Galahad was tough. He had to be with what had gone on with his life. Percival knew that it would take time for him to feel like he wouldn't be uprooted or at risk anymore. He was willing to wait it out. He just hoped Selene was going to be fine with him adopting the boy without letting her know first.

The third day brought rain and Percival could only shiver in sympathy at the misery on Galahad's face. It wasn't even a nice, warm rain. It was a cold, miserable rain that got into the hood of the cloaks that Percival had stashed in his own saddle bags, especially the one Percival had bought for Galahad and cut down to child size as they traveled through one of the smaller villages. The brown fabric billowed around his legs as it he rode the pony. Percival pulled over to the side of the road and gestured for the boy to stop, as well. He pulled the cloak around Galahad's face and tucked it better around him. "Here, this should keep the rain out better."

Galahad frowned as he looked up at the much bigger man, "You do this all the time?"

Percival grinned, the rain running over his own cloak, "Only when it rains."

"But it's always raining in Mercia and Camelot."

"Then I do it all the time." He chuckled, "Glamorous job, isn't it?"

Galahad grinned back, the big knight's quiet sense of humor was breaking through his natural skepticism. "How's the pay?"

"Well, it's enough to keep me in shirts, anyway."

Galahad's eyes drifted down to where Percival's arms were covered by his sumptuous red cloak, "But not sleeves?"

"They cost extra." The knight tweaked Galahad's nose before he settled twitched the cloak a last bit one last time.

The two of them set out again down the road, Galahad smiling even as he rode through the chilly rain.

A few hours later they stopped to rest the horses at another small village tavern. They would be home by tomorrow afternoon if they rode on and camped for the night. Percival looked out of the small window facing the road at the rain coming down in sheets. Galahad was sitting by the small fireplace trying to dry out as much as possible. The landlady had taken one look at the miserable look on his face and ushered the shivering boy over to it, hastily shoving a hot mug of mint and rosemary tisane in his hands. She laid a blanket over his shoulders and tutted over him.

Percival hadn't gotten such a dirty look from a woman since the last time he had pissed off Selene. He looked back at Galahad. The boy looked like his shivers were finally stopping. If they continued on, he would just be miserable again in an hour or so, and maybe on the way to getting sick. Percival calculated in his head exactly how long he could be overdue before Leon sent out a patrol looking for him. He could probably push them tomorrow, even taking Galahad on his horse for the last bit if he had to. The pony could keep up. Probably.

Percival made his decision and stood up. Galahad's shoulders slumped as the boy watched him walk over, expecting to be told they were about to leave. Percival's mouth twitched. He was tempted to have a little fun at the boy's expense and make it seem like they were going now but he just couldn't do it. If it had been Gwaine, he definitely would have taken the piss out of him, but the Galahad looked so pitiful he just couldn't bring himself to do it.

"Stay here, Galahad. I'm going to see if we can get a room for the night. The weather is just too nasty to go on."

The relief on Galahad's face was palpable. Percival laughed out loud at the boy. Galahad huddled deeper in his blanket. "Good. I'm still cold."

Percival clapped his hand on the thin shoulders under the blanket. "I'll see if the landlady will give you another mug while I ask about a room."

Luckily, the inn had one more room available. Percival paid for the room out of his dwindling supply of coin and just hoped that Leon and Arthur would think that he had stayed for a night in an inn because of the rain. It would have hit Camelot before this village, after all.

The room was tiny, barely large enough to accommodate a narrow bed. Percival would fit in it, but it would be tight adding Galahad to it, as thin as he was. The benefit of the room was that it had the chimney along one of the walls that would heat the room up nicely. It would keep Galahad happy and he'd at least be comfortable for the night.

Percival brought the bags up to the room as Galahad stayed by the fireplace. The stew the landlady had given him was long gone by the time Percival picked the dozing boy up and carried him up the stairs to the tiny room. He didn't even bother to take the blankets off him as he just wrapped him up soundly in them and placed him on the side of the bed closest to the wall with the chimney. He squeezed into the space left by the boy who looked like nothing less than a giant cocoon and closed his eyes, hoping for sleep to come quickly and hoping even more that the rain would stop overnight.

Unfortunately for Percival, sleep was elusive. His thoughts kept going back to the boy next to him and Selene's reaction to finding out her husband had decided to increase their family without telling her. Oh, sure, Galahad would most likely spend the majority of his time hanging around Percival and the other knights as he became a squire and learned how to fight and become a knight, but the rest of his time, Selene would be expected to be his mother and Percival his father. Percival was still not sure he was completely ready for his own children. What the hell was he doing thinking he could take in and raise one who was already old enough to take care of himself and had essentially been living rough for the past year and a half? A nine year old living rough. The sheer amount of hell the boy had gone through just to make it to this point was staggering.

Galahad was being extremely good the past few days, surprising Percival. Was he just putting on a good show? Was he really that comfortable with Percival? He was grumpy downstairs by the fire, but anyone who wasn't used to freezing their arse off while riding a horse would be as well. Hell, Gwaine used to get positively nasty at times like this, his normal good cheer worn off by the cold, especially since he didn't drink as much on patrols as he did off-duty. Merlin just shut down on days like this. He would normally be grumpy, but even he couldn't maintain his griping in this type of weather, not even to keep Arthur on his toes.

In a way, Percival had been happy to see the grumpy side of the boy. He was worried about him being too cheerful and not acting his normal self. If he was a tough kid, was that only in the last year or so that it had happened? So far, Galahad had seemed like a sweet-natured boy, like Rosalie had said he used to be. Was that an act? And if it was an act, how was Percival going to break through it? Would he even know if it was an act in the first place? Percival groaned quietly. If he was worried now and losing sleep over the actions of a boy he had only known for less than a week, what the hell was it going to do to him when he had a helpless infant on his hands? Why couldn't children come with instructions? Was it too much to ask the gods for them to let a person know exactly what the right way to treat and raise a child was? Percival tried to think back to his own childhood, but he just couldn't remember his parents ever being so nervous about what to do with him. They had always seemed like a unified front. Now that he had his own child to worry about he concluded that they had to have been just as frightened. They had to be.

He remembered the joy and fear on Gwaine's face when Deryn picked up the tiny wooden sword he'd given his son and whacked him on the head with it. Deryn may have been his adopted son but Gwaine felt just as strongly for him as he did for one of his biological son, Gareth.

Elena had managed to settle the bold knight down and even help him deal with much of the pain in his past. Gwaine was drinking less the last time Percival had seen him. His smiles seemed more real and not forced. He didn't seem to be trying too hard to make everyone think all was well, then heading off to the pub to get steadily numb. Percival had just laughed when he listened to him complain about Lord Godwyn trying to turn him into a proper king. Gwaine kept saying it was all going to be Elena in charge until Deryn could take over. Gwaine felt his job was to keep them alive and happy until then, and when Deryn was old enough, dump the whole mess in his lap, throw Elena on a horse and travel all over Albion, enjoying his golden years with his wife at his side, throwing punches in bar fights with the best of any man. Usually Elena smacked him on the head when he said that around her. Then she kissed him and told him she might be the one throwing him on the horse if her father wouldn't stop dumping the responsibilities he didn't want on her.

Percival's thoughts went round and round and before he realized it, he'd fallen asleep. He woke up the next morning with something strangling him. The vague light provided by the tiny window and showed him that Galahad had unburied himself from his cocoon during the night and was now wrapped around the larger man's frame like one of the pet monkeys he had seen at one of the fairs in Camelot. Prying the boys arms from his throat carefully, Percival shifted himself out of the bed so he could visit the necessary. When he got back from the chill outside, he saw that Galahad had rolled into a tiny ball in the space Percival had abandoned.

Percival quietly started to pack up their things. Neither had really unpacked much, so it took very little time before Percival was shaking Galahad's shoulder to wake him up. "Hey, come on, Galahad. We have to ride some more today."

The boy's eyes cracked open and Percival found himself on the receiving end of the best evil glare he had seen since he had accidentally dislodged the cat that Merlin kept from its sunning place on the windowsill in his tiny workroom. "Sleep," he croaked out.

"But if we leave now, we might just make it to Camelot tonight."

"'Morrow's good." Galahad rolled over and dismissed the bigger man.

"Sorry, kid. It's time to go." Percival picked him up and set him standing on the ground, ignoring the grumbles that had erupted. "Now change your clothing and go take a piss." He handed him the clothing he had kept out of the pack. "The weather is gorgeous. It's not too cold or too hot. There's not a drop of rain in sight, and my joints aren't even screaming that there will be. So, go while I secure food for us for the day."

"You sound like an old man. Your joints. Talking about the weather."

Percival shrugged. "I've spent my life fighting. Aching joints and old wounds are a part of that life. You'll get used to it." He shoved Galahad lightly toward the door after the boy had changed his clothing. "I think the landlady was making some sort of pasty when I went by her earlier." He smiled at the look that passed the boy's face when he heard that. Yes, the boy was definitely hungry.

By the time Percival had gotten downstairs with the packs, Galahad was already seated by the fire, a mug of hot barley water in his hands. Percival left him to his spot and loaded the horses up. He left the extra blankets the landlady had shoved at Galahad upstairs and wanted to make sure she got them. When he was finished thanking her for their use, he was given his own mug of barley water and joined Galahad in gazing at the fire while he waited for her to bring them some breakfast.

Galahad looked seriously into his mug. "Percival? What if I can't become a knight? I've been having some fun on this trip, but I don't like it. I mean, the rain and all."

"Neither do I." Percival finished his drink in time for the landlady to bring them a large trencher of meat and turnip. The bread was heavy and the juices ran from the meat, smelling delicious. "Tuck in or I'll eat-" Percival wasn't through with half of his threat before Galahad started eating.

Neither spoke for a bit, allowing Percival to gather his thoughts. "Galahad, if you end up not wanting to be a knight, then that's fine with me. My wife's a cook." He leaned over to whisper to Galahad, "She's actually better than the landlady who's still giving me dirty looks for making you ride in the rain.

"But even though your father was one, that doesn't mean you have to be. Now, there's a lot more to being a knight than just a ride in some nasty weather. Most of being a knight is hard, actually. There is endless training, especially with Arthur in charge. He's positively nuts about training. Of course, he's right, but don't tell him I said that. He likes hearing us grumble and complain about it so he can be proven right when the training helps. He's funny that way.

"Being a knight is so much more than training or riding. It's helping people. At least, that's the way it should be. Your father used to talk about it and why he wanted to be a knight before we joined Arthur and his Round Table. I never expected to be a knight. I thought I'd be a farmer until my family was killed. After that I thought I'd just keep going on as a merchant guard until some bandit got the better of me. Drink away my earnings, maybe find a little farm to work on if I saved enough before my injuries tallied up. I don't know. Running into Lancelot changed things for me. He pulled me into the wonderful mess that Camelot was and I've never looked back.

"I've helped more people than I can imagine. That was never my goal in life, but you know something? It feels good. It feels good to know that there are children out there alive and maybe with their own children now because I was there for them. It feels good to know that I've helped bring dragons back to this world. Bring magic back to Camelot. Lancelot may not be here with us, but he was right. Being a knight is so much more than a sword and a hard ride through nasty weather.

"I used to tease him when we worked together as guards because he'd find these odd jobs for us while we were waiting for caravans or merchants to get ready. The thing is, we never got paid for those jobs. I thought that's what going to help Merlin was going to be. One of Lancelot's 'nice jobs', I called them. He promised me a good camp stew out of it. I ended up finding the way I never knew I needed." Percival looked into the wide eyes of the boy who sat beside him. "That's what it means to me. The rides can be miserable, but the company can be wonderful. The fighting is ten minutes of sheer terror and the waiting for the fighting is ten hours of sheer boredom. The battles, because there will be, are awful. There's blood and friends dying, screams and moans. It's terrible. The best swordplay won't keep you alive if you're being hemmed in on all sides. But if you can get past that, get past the terrible part of being a knight, then it is absolutely worth it."

Galahad sat there, listening to the man who had been so generous to him. He wasn't sure what to think. His only real experiences with knights were the disdainful encounters with Bayard's men, who, if they knew he was a whore's bastard son, were more likely to kick him out of their way than smile at him. Galahad was scared that he wouldn't be able to live up to his father's image. Live up to the expectations that Percival may have had of him being the amazing Lancelot's son.

"It sounds scary."

"It absolutely is. Scary, and exhilarating, and terrifying, and the most amazing thing ever. The thing is, it's not for everyone. I will teach you what you need to know. I and the others, that is. If after that, you decide you want to apprentice with a baker or something, then that's fine. Hell, like I told you, it was never my intention of becoming a knight. If you end up wanting to be a farmer, you can do that."

"You wouldn't be angry if I can't be like him?" Galahad wrapped his skinny arms around his waist.

Percival shook his head. "No. I wouldn't be angry, nor would your mother, nor your father. I think you want to live up to an image you have of your father. Well, that image isn't accurate. None of us remember him perfectly. I remember some things. Merlin remembers some things. Your mother remembers some things. None of us actually lived in his head. None of us know exactly how scared he was or how brave he was or how determined he was or what he thought of the color puce." Galahad snorted at that.

"The point is, you can't live up to what you think your father was. I've watched too many men chase that sort of rabbit down a hole and end up miserable. One of the finest men I know let that particular attitude nearly ruin his chances to have his true love. No, you will be your own man. Did we love Lancelot and think extremely highly of him? Yes. Was he perfect? No. Hell, he forged patents of nobility the first time he was knighted. He was lucky to be alive to try for it again."

Galahad nodded. "So, I'll try it and if I really hate it, I can try something else?"

"Yes. But please give it an honest shot. I think you can do it."

Poor Galahad. Let this be my soap box: don't try to live up to someone else's expectations of you. It is frequently impossible and can hurt you severely in the long run. Be yourself: butcher, baker, candlestick maker. And it's easy to say that, but not so easy to do, especially when it's our parents and family we want to please. I just hope anyone reading this who needs to hear that takes less time and incurs fewer mental problems than I did to figure it out.

Also, the story of Percival and Lancelot in the stocks is Chapter 22 of The Stocks.