Pride Will Have A Fall (Gwaine)

[Yassia Dyfrène de Ailantha]

“Here, miss, your stew!”
Yassia broke from her reverie and directed a thankful smile at the bartender who had sauntered over to deliver her evening meal. The wandering princess could feel her stomach ache at the thought of finally eating, even if a year before such a simple food might have been well considered below her. But this would be the first decent meal in two days as she had to keep house with the little money that was left. Camelot might not be that far away, but Yassia had been lost before, straying for days until some kind sould had pointed her towards the right direction again.

She was about to take up the wooden spoon and dig into the stew when she heard the man standing behind her clear his throat. As she looked up questioningly he said a little awkwardly. “Would you mind paying in advance? Also for your room? No offense, but…”
“None taken, Sir!” Yassia interrupted and felt on her belt for her purse. She had had similar situations before, times were that bad people actually stooped to bilking on regular basis and the landlords had to sit it through, it was their loss. Her hand moved over her hip absentmindly and – felt nothing! Where was her purse?! Panic struck her stomach like an iron fist and she frantically felt again, darting her eyes downwards to check – nothing!

“I’m sorry, I…” her voice quivered as she searched the dim lit room for a sign of the dark brown bag that had hold her last few coins. This could only be a nightmare! There was no way she could have lost her purse just like that! Unless… now she suddenly remembered a scene right as she had entered the tavern, some man bumping into her, making an odd show of checking if she was alright. She had only thought he had wanted the body contact, but now she realised: He had snatched her purse right this very moment!
“Now what’s it to be? Will you pay or not?” The voice of the landlord had lost all friendliness, now he was all the businessman guarding his gain.

“Someone stole my purse!” Yassia insisted but realised herself how lame those words sounded. His reaction was one she had dreaded but it was only consisted. With an eyeroll he took the wonderfully smelling bowl away, saying: “Well, then I am sorry, Miss, but there is no exception. No money, no food!”
“But I swear it’s true!” The Princess’ voice now sounded desperate. “And it’s already late, where shall I sleep? Sir, please!”
Other men in the tavern had taken notice of the little drama and were slowly surrounding the table where Yassia was sitting like a culprit. “Hey, sweetheart, what about you sleep in my bed tonight and if you’re nice enough I might get you some breakfast in the morning!” one of them who clearly had too much to drink suggested with a sleazy grin, and the fellow customers broke out in roaring laughter and suggesting whistles.

No one seemed to take offense in that outragious behaviour, clearly, even the landlord was more concerned about getting his money than anything else. Like she had recalled earlier, the times where that bad. Whether she found some ‘other’ ways to pay or she slept under the brushes – it was not his problem to think of.
Closing her eyes Yassia sent a short prayer to anyone who might hear. Could it really be she, Yassia Dyfrène, princess and designated queen of Ailantha had sunk so low? Would no one help her out of this?