They went back into the tavern and settled around the table again. Percival bought the first round of drinks. That was the rest of his money gone, but he could make more tomorrow. Tonight he just wanted to have fun. For the first time he was his own master and could do what he wanted.
Two young women had entered the tavern and Gwaine invited them to sit at their table. They were both very pretty. One had wavy red hair and sparkly green eyes, the other straight, dark brown hair and brown eyes. When they came over to sit down, the brown haired girl's gaze fell on Percival. She whispered something to her friend and they both giggled. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. It was not the first time he had seen that look in a girl's eyes, but he had never gotten used to it. She was looking at him as if he was nothing more than a piece of meat.
The girls were flirting and laughing. Gwaine bought the next round of drinks and Percival began to get drunk. A little voice in the back of his head said he ought to call it a night, but he didn't listen.
He woke up in a room on the tavern's first floor. His head was throbbing with a pain threatening to split his skull. The first thing he saw when he got his eyes to focus was a girl's brown eyes in a pretty face framed in long, dark hair. She was smiling shrewdly. Completely taken aback, he sat up in bed and moved as far away from her as he could without falling onto the floor. What was she doing here?
"What's up with you? You were eager enough last night," she teased.
He realised that her shoulders, not covered by the bedding, were completely bare. And that he was completely naked himself.
"I don't remember your name," he said stupidly.
"Don't worry. You never bothered to ask for it."
Percival was lost for words. What had he been thinking of? And what was he supposed to do now?
"Relax," she laughed, seeing his confused expression.
"Well … what is your name?" he asked after a moment of collecting himself, hoping she would think of it as a polite question.
"Marlowe," she replied, smiling carelessly.
"Do you know my name?" he asked.
"You're Percival."
"Right," he nodded. He paused before saying "Marlowe, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to take advantage of you."
"How do you know it wasn't the other way around, handsome?"
He didn't. He could not remember anything much from last night. But he was beginning to understand that Marlowe really didn't expect anything more from him. He felt very relieved, but also sort of empty. When he looked at her, he saw only the face of a stranger. For some reason he got to think about Bree. A small bubble of envy formed in the pit of his stomach. She was with someone that she loved.
When Percival made ready to leave the tavern, he saw Gwaine saddling his horse.
"Percival. You look like you could use a cup of willow bark tea."
"Yeah. But I've no money left."
"Teach you to save some next time. So … still going to Camelot?"
"That's what I'd planned. Why do you want to know?" Percival asked.
"I just got thinking. You fight pretty well. It's a shame to waste all that muscle of yours on just ploughing fields. If you'd like, I'll let you tag along. Teach you some tricks. Do you know how to use a sword?"
"Not really. In Longstead we only ever used wooden sticks," Percival said, deliberating Gwaine's invitation. Company would be alright, and when Gwaine was involved, it would probably never get boring. And if he could even learn to fight properly with a sword, it was too good an offer to turn down. "It would be fun to try the real thing, though," he said.
"So Camelot can wait?"
"I suppose so. I really just wanted to see what it was like. Have you ever been there?"
"Oh, I've been there, alright."
"Maybe we could go there later on, then?"
"Don't count on it. King Uther's officially banned me from his lands."
"Banned you? Why?"
"Don't know, really. I only saved Prince Arthur's life, that's all."
"That seems unfair."
"I should have let him roast. Nobility. They're not worth the trouble."
"I thought you said yesterday that your father was a knight?"
"He was, and he was the only good one. But I never knew him. My mother was not his wife."
"Oh."
"So, are you ready to leave?" Gwaine asked.
"Yes," Percival said, slinging his satchel over his shoulder.
He walked and Gwaine rode. They agreed that Percival should save up for a horse as well as a sword. Gwaine by far did most of the talking but that didn't bother Percival. Except for the occasional moments of irritation when Gwaine persisted on being a little too funny, or too clever.
