Now, seriously??!!

[Yassia Dyfrène de Ailantha]

After the noise, the cheers and the overall hustle and bustle that the crowning ceremony and the immediate celebration after had consisted of, the corridors of Camelot castle were pleasingly quiet and deserted. Yassia just had had to sneak away from the festivities for just a little while to calm down and collect her thoughts and emotions. This was a grand day for Camelot for sure, but it had shown her more than anything that she was but a guest here, with a stay prolonged beyond reason and health. Could it be almost two years? Two years since she had left her beloved kingdom behind to seek help in the dangerous state she had been in? But fate seemed to mock her, rooting her in place and throwing every possible obstacle in her way. Of course Camelot could not help her out if it was constantly assaulted itself. The straw to nearly break the camel’s back had been Lady Morgana’s coup d’état, taking over the crown by force.

Now she was expelled and driven back, and Arthur was temporary king, until his father Uther Pendragon was strong enough to take over again. Of course Yassia felt happy for Arthur, him now finally taking the place he had been born and raised to, as she also liked him very much. And yet… she could not quite shake off the other feelings the crowning ceremony had caused in her. It had reminded her of how far away she herself still was from that one important step. Would she ever be crowned queen of Ailantha? Would she ever be able to return and claim what was hers by right? Or would she stay here for all time, a forgotten but tolerated for courtesy’s sake? Oh no, she didn’t want to end up like this! One day her tables would have to turn, right? One day she would HAVE to be helped out! But why was life being so difficult to her?

To make matters even worse, Yassia had spied an all too familiar face in the feasting crowd. A face she had wished never to see again, but not because this someone had hurt her too much. On the contrary, it was HER who had lied to him and in the end had stolen away like a thief in the night. But it had to be this way. She could not put matters of the heart over her destiny. Over the year she had all but forgotten about him, but seeing his dark, pale features in the crowd had opened up some kind of wound she didn’t know she even had.
So she wanted to be alone by all means, at least until the time for the banquet in the evening had come. But fate seemed to like slapping her in the face even today. Because as Yassia came near a corner where a large pillow created a secluded space shrouded in shadows, she could hear surpressed giggles and a low moan. She debated to turn on her heels and try another path, but then the annoyance won out and she treaded closer to see what she would have to deal with.

---

Her dress xD

[Oliver Strathmore of Mercia]

“We should have…retired…to my quarters…or yours…” A rather high-pitched and jovial voice of a female punctuated by broken breathless giggles in between came from behind the secluded corner.

“Why?” An equally breathless yet cheery male voice replied.

“It’s just…someone…might…see us…”

“So?”

A pause and then a rather loud giggle erupted before it was silenced before it was momentarily replaced by low moans.

He knew this was conduct not exactly becoming of royalty, but Oliver couldn’t deny the rebellious side in him to rear its ugly head when the pretty lady in his arms had practically invited him to this romp behind the curtains. Moving about with his father Lord Bayard, King of Mercia, and his brother Edmund, the Crown Prince of Mercia, as they rub elbows with the different royalty and nobility was starting to get rather boring and taxing. He had been mostly relegated to the back since he was obviously of lesser importance than his father and brother. While he loved the backstage more than the limelight, he wanted to have fun nevertheless. All this talking was not fun at all, not at a joyous merry-making such as Arthur’s interim installation as King of Camelot.

Ultimately deciding that he didn’t want to waste the rest of the day acting like the obedient but bored puppy, Oliver had stealthily backed off from the small crowd and started moving about the castle by himself. Camelot had a captivating charm, and he was looking forward to this trip to celebrate Prince—King Arthur’s step up to the throne. He had met him before. During that unfortunate event when his father had come to Camelot to sign a peace treaty with then King Uther only to be accused of poisoning the young prince. Camelot had found out the real culprit, released his father, and the peace treaty had been signed. He knew Arthur to be a just and compassionate man. While he was sad to see Uther regress after what the Lady Morgana did, he was confident Camelot is in better hands with Arthur.

With regards to the “matters” at hand, this romp behind the curtains had actually started as a harmless conversation filled with laughter. Oliver had spotted her with a few of her lady friends, and she had this come hither look that one couldn’t resist. He had turned on his charm to full effect to entertain them in his own little way. He didn’t know how it happened, but the other ladies started excusing themselves until he was left alone with her. He wasn’t complaining for losing his audience. Talking with this pretty lady was definitely a better way of celebrating the day. The harmless conversation, with unlimited servings of wine, had slowly turned into fancy flirting and suggestive jokes, and it didn’t take long for them to find this dark little corner away from everybody else.

“You want this…” the male voice spoke again.

The lady moaned. “Yes…” came her breathless reply.

[Yassia Dyfrène de Ailantha]

Truly the least thing Yassia wanted in her current mood and condition was to stumble upon a love scene. And yet fate had decided to present her with just that. Typical, oh so very typical. As if to prove her a day could always get worse. By now she had thought she had thoroughly learned this particular lesson, but that didn’t seem to faze the stars. Yassia was sure, whenever she returned to Ailantha she would have turned into a model of patience and countenance, after all the ordeals she had been put through to test these abilities. She knew that the woman returning would be by no means identical with the girl that had left. Yes, thinking back now she realized she had truly been more of a girl than a woman. A girl with the pathetic illusion that the world would aid her in her quest. That it would take her some time, but that she would have returned within half a year or such. Now look who was still in the wrong country. For all her subjects knew she might be dead, and they probably had arranged themselves with the new situation.

Yes she had learned her lessons alright, so why couldn’t they just leave her be for ONCE? Listening to the obvious conversation that was going on between the two shameless lovebirds, Yassia felt her anger boil up to the simmering state.
“We should have…retired…to my quarters…or yours…”
Damn well they should have!!!
“Why?”
“It’s just…someone…might…see us…”
“So?”
So? SO??!!!! What kind of reply was that please?! Did this man have no shame at all?? Yassia didn’t even want to know who this man was, she sure as hell did not want to make his acquaintance by what traits he had shown by now.
She had to do something and quick. Either walk by with her face averted or confront them. For she was by no means a peeper and found no pleasure in keeping watching or eavesdropping.

“You want this…”
“Yes…”
Now that did it for Yassia. She rounded the corner with a forceful step and planted herself in front of the very occupied people, crossing her arms and putting on a very sharp glare. Her voice could have cut glass as she stated:
“Oh please, get a room won’t you?!” And as she had recognized the female voice, she added. “Seriously, Lady Electra, do you have no shame?!”
She didn't see anything else than the back of the man she had chosen to make out with, but even though something seemed familiar about him. This blonde locks and the way he held himself... he seemed rather well-built, and suggested the handsome face she could not see yet, she at least had to give Lady Electra that, but that was by no means an excuse!!

[Oliver Strathmore of Mercia]

“Oh please, get a room won’t you?!”

Oliver was much too into the moment that he didn't hear the admonition that had suddenly come from out of nowhere. He was much too focused on showering the lady with a downpouring of kisses that he couldn't be easily deterred. He was in the zone, so to speak, and whenever he was, nothing else around him mattered. It seemed the lady too was enjoying the attention that he was lavishly giving her albeit in a not-so-appropriate venue that she, too, seemed to have easily ignored the voice. Truth be told, the voice, wherever it came from, sounded just like a faint whisper of a wind passing by, nothing solid, easily ignored.

“Seriously, Lady Electra, do you have no shame?!”

The next one however hit Oliver like a brick over his head, but it didn't stop him from possessively snaking his arm around the woman, and pulling her to him even more tightly. Unfortunately, the mention of her name jolted Lady Electra, and instead of returning his embrace, she had stiffened.

"We need to...stop..." came her breathless words, and Oliver wasn't quite sure he liked that. Still, not to be totally rude and disrespectful to the lady, he stopped all the kissing, and buried his face at the crook of Lady Electra's neck instead, breathing in her sweet perfume as he tried to calm his frenzied nerves.

After a few moments, he stood straight up and pulled himself away from the lady, his hair all disheveled, his lips tainted with hints of red from the lady's lipstick. When he did, however, he noticed a figure at his periphery and turned to see a young woman all clad in a fine green gown. "What are you staring at?" Oliver spat, sounding clearly irritated. He didn't like being told off like that, not when he was having the time of his life. And it didn't help that he had quite too much to drink as well.

"I have to go..." the voice came from Lady Electra instead, and Oliver incredulously turned back to look at her clumsily fixing her dress, running her hand over the bodice and the skirt ironing out any wrinkles. "Oh no, don't do that. Let's go to my room," Oliver offered a tad bit desperately as he held her hand hoping to stop her from leaving.

"Please don't tell my father," Lady Electra was talking to the lady now, and easily pulled herself away from Oliver. In less than a heartbeat, she had stepped out of the curtains and was gone, leaving Oliver standing there in one dark corner trying to make heads or tails in his wine-addled mind of what just happened right there.

[Yassia Dyfrène de Ailantha]

At first no one was even reacting to her annoyed remark, and that irked Yassia even further. Seriously, where was she here, a brothel?! Or the lowest tavern in town? This was Camelot castle for crying out loud, and they couldn’t behave like that!! Yes, Yassia knew she herself had a few issues with too much public show of affection and might be a little too prude, but then this was clearly pushing every possible manner in the book! That it was a gathering where many nobles from all of Albion had come together and may find the new acquaintances more than just charming could not excuse to turn Arthur’s coronation into a meat market!

At least, Lady Electra, when called by her name seemed to come to at least part of her senses.
"We need to...stop..."
Now that sounded better, didn’t it?! Yassia could only just refrain from snorting at that pitiful remark. With all due respect, she had never liked the inviting glances Electra had given men, but until now she had at least left it with glances – as far as Yassia could tell. Now there only needed to come the right, willing man and she forwent every code of courtesy and threw herself at him like a tavern wench! That was so not going to get her any futher into Yassia’s good books. As for the man.. well, she was happy to never have to meet him again after this. Men like that… they were not of any use! Hunting after every skirt they got close to, and if they had the looks and the cheeks, most women would be falling to their feet. Good that Yassia wasn’t most women…

And then her whirled around and Yassia’s breath caught in her throat. His words were hardly processed in her mind as she took in the features she definitely had seen before. It was almost a year now, but – never mind the pun – this person had left quite a mark. What was he doing here?! How come he should be at Arthur’s coronation? Had he come with any of the foreign kings and nobles? And why did seeing him practically eating up Lady Electra send a sting through her guts that was both hot and cold at the same time? Well, she didn’t have time to process that peculiar sensation for now, her mind was still busy bringing together what just could not be put together in her mind successfully. Oliver. Camelot. Oliver in Camelot…
”Oliver!!” It was out before she could stop herself, and her tone sounded rather accusing. “You… here? How… why?”

Lady Electra’s mood for dalliance seemed utterly spoilt, and hadn’t Yassia been so angry, she would have felt sorry for her. She was not mean, she didn’t like to cause other’s discomfort and hated to gloat, but like always she had acted impulsively, fuelled by a rather cranky mood and now had to deal with what she had done. And best go through with it all.
”I will not tell him”, she replied with a surprisingly soft voice. “But keep in mind this is not how a lady should act.” Her higher status allowed such a comment to be made, even though she was still a foreigner.

Towards Oliver however, she was still much on the warpath, so after Electra had left in quite the hurry and left the two alone in the corridor, Yassia crossed her arms and planted a scoff on her face. “So, still on the prowl are we, Oliver? This time for ladies?”
Yassia couldn’t even tell why what she had seen him do made her so desperately angry. She just knew that it did.

[Oliver Strathmore of Mercia]

It took him quite a while to process what had just happened. When he did, Oliver felt a splitting headache piercing the side of his head. It felt like he was getting a hangover a little too early. Finally realizing that his “lady love” will not be returning anytime soon anymore, he heaved a deep and resigned sigh. So much for making the most out of the day. He turned to pick up his coat which had been haphazardly thrown on the floor during the heat of the moment with Lady Electra, and was about to leave the corner when he heard the lady exclaim his name.

“You… here? How… why?”

Not really sure as to why she was still there after she had broken up his own party, he looked at her with both disdain and irritation. He tried hard but couldn’t quite place her. No, he had never met her before. Though he wasn’t at all surprised that she knew his name. For all he knew, she could be one of Lady Electra’s friends from their group earlier. Right, that’s it, he told himself. She was probably one of them. He can’t be faulted for not remembering her face. Lady Electra had distracted him quite well.

Ignoring her, he hung his coat over his shoulder and stepped out of the corner. Just as she passed her, she spoke again. He couldn’t remember what he had been talking about with these ladies earlier, but she seemed to be quite angry about seeing him and the Lady Electra making out. With his head throbbing in pain, he decided it was best to end this now.

“Look, I am always on the prowl, my lady,” he replied a little too courteously to be sincerely courteous. He couldn’t help the bite in his voice. She was making him all riled up. “If you’re angry that I was more interested in your friend than in you, live with it.” Then he paused and looked at her, his eyes moving from her livid face down to her emerald gown. She doesn’t look bad. Actually, she looked prettier than Lady Electra although less forthcoming and seemingly more conservative. “Or would you like to fill the void she just left in this little corner? I'd gladly take you,” he added quite insensitively, drunk as he is. Yes, she was most definitely jealous she was not getting some action as Lady Electra did, Oliver told himself.

[Yassia Dyfrène de Ailantha]

It was obvious he hadn’t recognized her, and Yassia couldn’t even blame him so much. After all, in his memory she was a mere nomad, a simple, rather ragged looking girl he had accidently shot and then treated. Just a passing, rather insignificant acquaintance and by no means comparable to the woman he was speaking to now: in royal surroundings and with an almost regal gown, clean washed and not in the least in pain, cursing in a foreign language. Though, come to think of it, she had a right mind doing just that right now, cursing him to the lowest parts of hell again. Because even if he didn’t recognize her, it was no excuse to treat her like that, with obvious scorn and disdain. Should SHE feel like a culprit in his twisted mind? Was that it? Well, she would show him how wrong he was, oh yes indeed! Even being drunk was no excuse to treat a lady of high status with such outrageous behavior.

He hadn’t seemed quite interested in prolonging this rather annoying encounter, but as she spoke he turned again. Yassia didn’t know if that should make her feel content or even more annoyed. On one hand, she wouldn’t mind talking to him again, as she remembered him to be quite good company - however muddles her memory was by the amount of whiskey they had consumed – but surely not like this! Drunk, insulting and quite impertinently sizing her up!
“Look, I am always on the prowl, my lady,” “If you’re angry that I was more interested in your friend than in you, live with it.”
Yassia gave a little incredulous snort at this rather brazen remark, feeling her temper boil up more and more by the second. “Don’t flatter yourself”, she snapped letting her gaze wander over him rather disdainfully. “You’re not as irresistible as you think. Not in this condition!”

Already she could feel her hands tremble with the effort she had to put into keeping her outward calm. If he made just one more outrageous remark, she would snap.
“Or would you like to fill the void she just left in this little corner? I'd gladly take you,”
And there was it. Yassia could feel the blow these words inflicted to her and how it almost tangibly tore down the walls she had only just been able to hold up. Her eyes widening in shock, she gave him a clear ‘did I just hear you right?!’ look and whispered hoarsly: “How dare you…!”
Before she could stop herself and before he probably had even time to realize what was coming his way, she raised her right hand and struck him hard across the face.

“You’re drunk!” she stated, putting all the contempt she could muster into her voice. “And this time I am not! “
Oddly enough the slap she had just given him did not calm down her raging anger and so even without many conscious thoughts, she raised her hand again.

[Oliver Strathmore of Mercia]

"“You’re not as irresistible as you think. Not in this condition."

“Oh, but you still think I am irresistible nevertheless. Admit it now. It’ll be our dirty little secret,” Oliver scoffed at her. She really knew how to rile a man up, and still rub it in, so he was going to do the same thing to her. Serves her right. Not only did she deprive him of his one and only "past time" for the time, she was turning it into a rather annoying and maddening battle between the two of them. With his head throbbing in pain from the amount of alcohol he had consumed, this wasn't exactly the one thing he had wanted to accomplish tonight. The sober Oliver would have apologized like the true gentleman that he is. However, drunk as he was now, all the courtesy flew out of the window, and was replaced with nothing but carelessness and an unreasonable urge to teach this lady a lesson she wouldn't forget.

Acting like the jerk that he was, he should have seen what was coming next. Fortunately or unfortunately, he didn't, and the force of her slap whipped his head to the right. Oliver could feel the stinging sensation of her hand against his cheek, and he felt his blood boiling at her. No woman had ever done that to him. Granted he had been rude to her, but his addled mind didn't know that. All he knew was that she had spoiled his fun and even had the nerve to lay a hand on him.

When he saw her raise her hand yet again, this time Oliver was ready. He reached up and caught it just before she could swing it. He held her wrist a little too tightly as he pulled her rather roughly towards him. As they stood there face to face, Oliver looked at her with seething anger. There was something in her eyes that made him stop and do a double-take. What it was, he didn't know. But it made him let go of her hand just as immediately, as if she burned him.

"I don't know you, and you don't know me. As a lady, you should have known better than to interfere in other people's private business," he told her rather firmly while trying to stand steadily on his feet. He could feel the walls around him starting to spin, and he stepped back towards the dark corner until he felt the wall behind him. The way she was talking to him, it was as if they had met before, had actually interacted with each other. And then there was that weird sense of familiarity that he had seen earlier in her eyes. But no matter how hard Oliver tried, he couldn't remember ever meeting her before. He was definitely drunk, so very drunk.

[Yassia Dyfrène de Ailantha]

The nerve of it all! This was so not the Oliver she remembered! Yes, they had bantered before, but it had always been in jest, never using such a bitter and insolent edge. Who did he think he was, talking to her like that! She had seen him slightly drunk before and he had been very civil, so that would NOT count as any excuse. He might not know he was insulting a princess and future queen, but that didn’t make it any less insolent to any woman at all! He should know better! But it was more than evident he didn’t. Well, she was not going to back down on this one either, farewell courtesy!
”Dirty? Yes, especially your mind!” she scoffed, resisting the urge to show her disdain in a far less suitable way, spitting on the ground before his feet. That was maybe what he deserved, but she would not let him drag her down to his low level! “But no thanks, I make no secret out of my contempt for you! I wonder, is this your true face? Have I been so mistaken?”

Yassia couldn’t quite understand the hurt she felt at these words that had just left her mouth. What was she thinking? She had never seen much in him anyway, yes? It had been a nice encounter, but it had been tainted by too much pain in general. And she had never thought to see him again. And yet here he was… and was thoroughly losing any fondness there might even have been vaguely for him in her heart.
She could see the shock in his eyes at being slapped and it filled her with not just little satisfaction. There, take that, insolent knave! She quickly wondered how many girls had had the guts to slap him before. Or was she the first? Well, if anything it would explain his brazen behavior.

The next time though he was too fast, and Yassia gasped as she felt her wrist being grabbed like with an iron clasp. Goodness, he was strong! And his eyes were burning with ire now as well… had she maneuvred herself into more trouble than it was worth again? What would he do now?
And yet, she showed no fear, her anger still crowding anything else out as she stood there, panting heavily and so close to him that she could practically see every little detail of his face…
He broke the spell when releasing her hand and the anger returned at full force. Taking a step back, Yassia crossed her arms and glared at him. “You might not remember me, Oliver, but I certainly remember you! After all, our encounter left quite a lasting mark to me!”

Examining her wrist that was still showing the imprints of his fingers around it in fiery red, she lowly grumbled. “Maleeixo, if that leaves ANOTHER lasting mark I demand recompense this time!”

[Oliver Strathmore of Mercia]

“But no thanks, I make no secret out of my contempt for you! I wonder, is this your true face? Have I been so mistaken?”

There she goes again. Talking like they had exchanged more than a few nods and smiles at each other before by the hallways or at a party. She made it sound like she really knew him. Oliver tried to search his mind for any memory of meeting a lady who looked even vaguely like her before. He tried to remember the parties being thrown at Mercia. He tried to recall his visits to the other kingdoms. But nothing came to mind. He had not met her before. And Oliver couldn't deny that he wasn't really trying so hard to remember. His head was already pounding like the loudest drums, and every bit of exertion seemed to want to make it explode. So he quit thinking.

“You might not remember me, Oliver, but I certainly remember you! After all, our encounter left quite a lasting mark to me!”

What was she trying to prove really? That he knew her? He did felt that weird sense of familiarity towards her earlier, but he dismissed that as impossible or borne only out of his drunken stupor. All the words that were coming out of her mouth were nothing but gibberish to him. They don't make sense at all, nor did he have the patience to piece them together.

"Maleeixo..."

The curse flew from her lips, and that somehow brought Oliver out of his dizzy composure. He pushed himself away from the wall and advanced, rather menacingly at her. He grabbed her arm and pulled her towards him again. "Maleeixo les estrelles!” The words flew out of his mouth before he could stop them. He didn't know why he was suddenly so angry upon hearing those curse words. Was it because he knew what they meant? No, it was because it brought back a memory. Distant and a tad bit hazy in his drunken state, but it had been a beautiful memory, one that Oliver usually summoned when certain times get rough for him. He didn't want that memory tainted by this rather maddening situation he was in right now. "I know what it means. Go run to your physician and send me a bill for the damage."

With that Oliver turned and started to walk away from her. Yassia. His mind called out the name of that grimy-faced little nomad who he had accidentally shot with his arrow in the Forests of Balor almost a year ago. He closed his eyes as he tried to breathe in deep, recalling the sweet tinkling sound of her laughter, the craziness of her jibes, and the feel of her soft body leaning against him as he helped treat her arrow wound. The thought of their time spent together, albeit quick, seemed to have considerably calmed him down.

Before Oliver could manage a couple of steps, however, he heard someone else call his name, and he saw his brother Edmund. Walking behind him was his father Lord Bayard, and he tried but failed to suppress a groan. "There you are! Why am I not surprised to see you with a beautiful lady?" Edmund said, his eyes focused more on the lady than on his brother. "I am Prince Edmund of Mercia, my lady. And this is my father Lord Bayard. I hope my little brother didn't give you much trouble. He can be quite a handful."

Trust Edmund to rub it in. Oliver had to silently grind his teeth to keep himself from lashing out in front of his father. They must have been on their way to their rooms to get some rest before the evening festivities start, Oliver thought inwardly cursing the timing. Edmund then bowed before the lady and went on to kiss her hand. Even in his alcohol muddled mind, Oliver could clearly see that Edmund was immediately smitten. He couldn't resist but roll his eyes.

"Pleasure to make your acquaintance, my lady," Lord Bayard courteously greeted her. He was looking at her and then to Edmund rather oddly. A knowing smile on his face that Oliver only knew too well. His father had a plan brewing inside his head, and Oliver wasn't sure he was going to like it whatever it was.

[Yassia Dyfrène de Ailantha]

Yassia had not meant to use this word, it had just flown out of her mouth fuelled by her massive frustration and anger. But as soon as she said it she remembered another detail of Oliver’s and her encounter. She had taught him the meaning of the rather common curse in Ailantha: ‘Maleeixo les estrelles – I curse the stars.’ He had been rather amused by it and had promised to keep it for reference. But he was anything but amused right now upon hearing these words. He charged at her again, anger now burning openly in his eyes and he grabbed her arm even more forcefully this time. Still there was no spark of remembrance or recognition in his eyes, and it made Yassia grow even more exasperated. Hadn’t she told him that this was a curse from her faraway homeland? Exactly how many people would he expect to stumble over knowing it?! But he might be simply too drunk to even want to think about it. Typical, really. Men and alcohol. It could turn even the most fun and caring man into a shameless and ignorant pig!

"Maleeixo les estrelles!” "I know what it means. Go run to your physician and send me a bill for the damage."

“Let go, you’re hurting me!” she hissed, glaring at him. There was now almost an electric tension between them, she imagined to hear it sizzling between their two bodies now so close again. “And of course you know what it means. Now think hard who taught you this very meaning! Or are you too drunk to be able to think?”
Yassia had wanted to say much more, had wanted to practically hurl her name into his face, force him to remember her. Why did it make her so mad and even sad to imagine he had forgotten who she was? He must have though, even though she was now wearing fine gowns didn’t mean she was not recognizable, yes? Was it because she sometimes still thought of him, whenever she would allow herself to dream? And maybe because her dreams had exalted him in her mind to make him such a wonderful person, and now the reality didn’t match with it?

But she didn’t get to do any of the things she had wanted to, as they suddenly were interrupted. Another young man and an older man approached them and the younger one immediately addressed Oliver – in a rather personal way!
And then he introduced himself and it made Yassia’s eyes widen in slight shock.
"I am Prince Edmund of Mercia, my lady. And this is my father Lord Bayard. I hope my little brother didn't give you much trouble. He can be quite a handful."
Edmund of Mercia… Prince Edmund of Mercia… and Oliver was his brother… her thoughts started to race, but her outward behavior did not show any of it. As soon as she was confronted with a courtly situation her body started to act on its own accord, presenting her as the perfect lady and hiding the confusion and anger.

Numbly, her gaze flickering quickly towards Oliver, she let her hand being kissed by his rather charming brother, and then lowered herself into a rather graceful little curtsy.
“The pleasure is all mine, Lord Bayard, Prince Edmund”, she heard herself say and then her stomach tightened into a hurting knot as she knew what had to come next. Not meeting Oliver’s gaze, she added: “I am Princess Yassia Dyfrène de Ailantha, guest to King Arthur for a year now.”
That ought to chase away any doubts even for his muddled brain. What a terrible twist of fate, truly! It was still too much to really wrap her head around. Oliver had concealed that he was of royal blood – just like she had.
The gazes she was given by Lord Bayard did escape her completely as she fought an inward battle with herself. A large part of her wanted to run and hide, to try and forget what had just come to pass. Why couldn’t she have turned around earlier, not confronting Oliver and Electra? But the princess in her knew she could not sneak out of this now, she had to sit it out.

[Oliver Strathmore of Mercia]

“And of course you know what it means. Now think hard who taught you this very meaning! Or are you too drunk to be able to think?”

Heavens! She really was testing him. What did she know about the woman who taught him those very words? “What is it to you? It could be my wife for all you care!” he lashed back only to realize a little later the absurdity of that exclamation. If he indeed had a wife, then what was he doing cavorting with a lady of the court behind curtains, in dark corners of the castle. “The young lady who taught me those words was the most amazing woman I have ever met in my entire life. She’s everything you aren’t.” Harsh. Even for Oliver that was rather harsh. And he immediately bit his lip at the realization. He would have apologized but the unexpected entrance of his brother and father had surely upstaged their rather heated exchange.

Like usual, Oliver had stepped back as his brother and father introduced themselves to her, giving her the right courtesies worthy of a lady of the court, courtesies that the drunk Oliver had denied her just because she broke his moment with Lady Electra. And as if nothing heated had passed between them, the lady had composed herself and greeted the two men with as much courtesy in return. As they exchanged pleasantries, Oliver was literally counting the seconds as they ticked by, hoping that he might still be able to find Lady Electra up and about the castle, and that they might still be able to continue their little game this time in private. Oliver desperately wanted to get out of there. He was about to make that hasty and subtle exit when she spoke.

“I am Princess Yassia Dyfrène de Ailantha, guest to King Arthur for a year now.”

He had been unusually interested in the stone floor when suddenly he stopped, raised his head up to look at her. Princess Yassia Dyfrène de Ailantha. Yassia. Yassia? A year. She’d been in Camelot for a year now. Maleeixo! It took a while to process what with his head swimming in a sea of alcohol, but when it did, Oliver felt like a bucketful of water had just been dumped over his head. He stared at her, really stared at her, trying to see the resemblance. Now that he was really paying attention, sure enough, it was there. Clear as the bright evening skies outside. Her eyes, her lips, the soft curve of her neck. He let out an exasperated gasp that caught his brother and father’s attention. When they turned to him, Oliver’s face immediately broke into too wide a grin. “Don’t mind me,” he told them before turning his back away from them and walking towards a nearby window.

Air. He needed air to breathe. Leaning against the window, Oliver breathed in deep, trying to get rid of the throbbing pain in his head. She can’t be. She can’t be the same Yassia he had met in the Forest of Balor a year ago. What was she doing in that dangerous forest anyway? Trapping hunters or men, and twisting them between her fingers, playing with them? Was she playing with him? Having the time of her life pretending to be some nomad, enjoying the attention he and his men were showering her, preying on their hospitality? What kind of a sick joke was that? Oliver could feel a renewed sense of anger boiling inside him. He had never really been quite fond of the noble lot with their pretentions and what-nots. If she was indeed "pretending" to be that nomad Yassia, then she was just like all the nobles he had met. She was no different.

Oh, but she was Yassia. His grimy-faced nomad Yassia. Full of life. Full of fire. Had it all been an act?

“Princess Yassia, you are far away from home.” It was Lord Bayard who spoke, brushing off Oliver as if he didn’t say anything. His father had been on the constant lookout for a fine woman to wed his brother Edmund. While his brother had his fair share of women in Mercia, none had struck his fancy just yet. Now, Lord Bayard was anything but young. Sooner or later, Edmund will have to assume the throne, and he will need a fine and perfect woman to rule Mercia beside him. It seemed he had found her in Princess Yassia. “Have you been to other kingdoms in Albion, princess? Surely, you’ve had quite a fill of Camelot after a year.”

Edmund was quick on the uptake. A little too quick to Oliver’s liking. “Now that you mentioned it, father, why don’t we invite the lovely lady to Mercia? We’d love to have you around to grace our drab and dull courts, princess.”

At the rather unexpected invitation, Oliver quickly spun around and moved towards them. “I don’t think the princess would want to travel that far north. It’s a long and perilous journey to Mercia. I don’t think she’s used to the hardships of such travel, dainty lady that she is. She’s better off staying here in Camelot,” he said without looking at her, his voice venomous. To be honest though, Oliver’s thoughts and emotions were in a frenzy. He didn’t really know exactly what he wanted. On one hand, he wanted to confront her, get the truth from her…and maybe get to know more of her. On the other, he wanted to be rid of her once and for all. “Don't you agree, princess?” he addressed her finally, a clear challenge presented in the tone of his voice.

[Yassia Dyfrène de Ailantha]

He was still not getting it. Was he blind or dumb or both??!! Could alcohol really mess with your brain so much?? Yassia was sure she had never been THAT drunk in all her life. To cloud her judgement in that way, being rude to people, and being just annoyingly BLIND. She had practically hurled everything he needed into his face, and he still couldn’t put it together! How pathetic was that please?! Or was there something he just didn’t WANT to see? Had he tried to forget her that much, had she left such a bad impression he would rather stay blind for all eternity than admit she was standing right in front of him? Before that thought could make her heart sink too much, she heard his next words:
“The young lady who taught me those words was the most amazing woman I have ever met in my entire life. She’s everything you aren’t.”
That was like a tug at her heartstrings and a hard slap into the face at the same time. It left Yassia’s mind blank for a serious amount of time, not able to process what she had just heard. She had taught him these words, and so he was referring to her when he said she was the most amazing woman he had ever met. But this was the Yassia he remembered. The one he failed to recognize now he obviously despised.

Yassia could not muster a decent reply, she was speechless for once, unable to word her shock, her sadness and her anger. That one was even able to feel such a horrible mix of emotions at the same time she had not even known before. And now she was hopelessly overextended and could not deal with the situation at hand – which made her slightly glad for the interruption that now presented itself. Her mind still elsewhere – but not so very far away indeed – she tried to keep track of what Lord Bayard and his elder son were saying. But the most prominent part of her waited anxiously for Oliver’s reaction. How would he take this revellation? Would he speak up? Lose his countenance and run of? Seek to apologize? No, the latter probably was nothing but wishful thinking. Then she heard the gasp. Shock, obviously. And she felt his eyes on her like flaming knives piercing into her skin. Flaming knives, indeed… was he looking for the resemblance he had failed to see before?
And then, of course, he fled. Not far at least, but he still escaped the scene for the moment.

In fact, Yassia could not even blame him, she so wanted to do the same, but courtesy kept her rooted on the spot, trying to answer their kind questions to her best ability, even though she was only half processing them anyway.
”I am indeed far away from home”, she agreed, inclining her head a little. “And not so much on my own free will I may add. But that is a long story. I have passed through most of the southern kingdoms on my way from the shore up north, but ever since then I was rather content to stay in Camelot.” But she couldn’t deny either that of late she had felt rather restless. In the beginning, the journey had been nothing but a necissity, but now Yassia found herself to feel even a little caged sometimes, missing the new experiences you made on every new day of a journey.
Now Prince Edmund was inviting her to Mercia… even though Yassia had planned to go there for a few days with her dear friend Caitrin long ago, so far it never had worked out in their favor and they had always postponed the trip. Now there was another opportunity presenting itself… and yet Yassia was more inclined to say no, politely but definitely. An itch in the back of her neck told her there might be some catch, even if she could not see it yet. A few unpleasant encounters on her journey had made the princess rather suspicious to any offerings.

That was when Oliver piped up again.
“I don’t think the princess would want to travel that far north. It’s a long and perilous journey to Mercia … Don't you agree, princess?”
Oh he was challenging her alright!! Just as she had seemed to calm down a little, Yassia’s blood started to boil again. What did he know of her?! Nothing!!! ‘Not used to hardships of travel’??!! Oh, she would show him!
”By no means, PRINCE Oliver”, she retorted with a fake calm tone, giving him a smile. Only by looking close you might detect the hard edge around her mouth. “I can’t imagine a journey to Mercia in such illustrous and well prepared a company being more dangerous than what I have been through on my way here. Cockatrices are not the only dangerous beings on the prowl in forests after all”, she added as a bitter jibe, only for him to understand.

Then she turned to his father and brother again and gave them a rather dazzling smile, which cost her more than she would have thought possible. “So I would feel honored to accompany you to Mercia for a few days. I always wanted to visit there.”
Now she had agreed to it only to spite Oliver, which might not be the best of reasons concerning how they treated each other right now. Would she ever get a chance to explain? And why was it HER having to feel all guilty? He had failed to mention his heritage as well!! Both had thought it didn’t matter, as neither of them had imagined to see the other ever again. And now they had stumbled over each other, they needed to deal with the consequences. Thank you indeed, stars, for making my life even more twisted…

[Oliver Strathmore of Mercia]

He was confident now it was her. There was no denying it. How he missed it earlier, he didn’t know. Blame the goblets and goblets of wine that he had consumed for his hazy cloudy mind. Couple that with the anger and madness that he had felt towards Yassia for putting a stop to his and Lady Electra’s not-so-public display of affection, and Oliver was off the edge. How was he to know that that grimy-faced nomad was actually a princess? Of course, despite all that she had been telling him earlier, he would try and remember her from the parties and soirees that he had attended in Mercia and in the other kingdoms. Who can blame him if he wasn’t trying to remember a princess from the many nomads he had met in the forests?

Focusing his mind as much as he can on her conversation with his father and brother, he found out that she had quite a trip from south to Camelot. Ailantha. It sounded familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it. He will probably do some reading later to know more about Ailantha and where it lay on the map---he stopped that thought. Why was he interested to know more about Ailantha when he was supposed to hate this woman? With all the warring thoughts inside his head, Oliver could already feel it about to explode.

With him showing that hint of hostility, he had hoped for her to turn down his brother’s invitation. Sure, he was challenging her, but he had not expected her to rise up to it after what's happening between them now. Whatever good opinion she had of him when they had met in the Forests of Balor were surely shattered now. And Oliver didn’t know why he felt a stab of guilt at the thought.

He met her eyes when she spoke his name. Even with the forced calmness, Oliver still loved the sound of his name on her lips. He could see that she was definitely angry at him, but still…he didn’t realize how he missed her saying his name until she spoke it now. He listened as attentively as he could, trying his best not to get distracted by how beautiful she looked right now in her green gown and…clean face. She didn’t look a bit like the nomad Yassia, and yet she was still every bit like her. Oliver had been looking at the slender curve of her neck when she mentioned 'cockatrices.' He abruptly raised his head and met her eyes again, locking her gaze there. He knew that remark was intended only for him.

As if meeting her challenge, Oliver then crossed his arm over his chest. She wanted to play this game? Well, he was going to play it as well. “That must have been a pretty challenging experience traveling to Camelot, princess. Could you tell us your story? I’m sure my brother and father would be most interested to know,” he egged her on, matching the bite in her own tone of voice. He wasn’t sure if Edmund or his father caught the slight mockery there.

“You need not worry about dangers during our travel, my lady. I am quite willing and able to protect you all throughout the journey,” Edmund piped in wanting to be part of the conversation. Oliver remembered what Yassia told him at the Forests of Balor about her knowing how to throw daggers. Right, Edmund is in for a surprise.

When Yassia accepted the invitation, Oliver let out an inward groan. “That’s settled then. We’ll be leaving the day after tomorrow,” Edmund exclaimed, clapping his hands together with the glee of a five-year-old, and Oliver looked at his brother with undisguised annoyance. Of course, his challenge only spurred Yassia to accept the invitation. She was just like him, not wanting to back down from any "fight." This should be an interesting journey back to Mercia, Oliver thought.

[Yassia Dyfrène de Ailantha]

Why was she still looking at him? Why did she still grace him with her attention after all he had hurled at her?! Every law of courtesy demanded such a troublesome subject as him to be ignored completely, to not let any lasting animosity rise or, the stars forbid, start an argument like two washerwomen! And yet, and yet…why was there always an ‘and yet’ involved when it came to him? What was it in Oliver that made her forget all she had been told and thought right? Was it because they had met under such circumstances, practically in a no man’s land, where it didn’t matter who you were, just what you did? But these rules clearly couldn’t abide here, so why was she even trying? He was not worth it, was he?! He was insulting, drunk, a complete waste of space and of her time! She knew she should focus more on the counterparts in this conversation who had shown interest and kindness in her. His father and his elder brother.

For a moment, Yassia pryed her eyes from Oliver to examine his brother shortly. He was handsome as well, clearly more mature and a gentleman born and bred. She grazed him with a courteous and friendly smile, though she sadly could not tell if she did it half way to vex Oliver. Was she really stooping to such means already? Why could he make her blood boil so much? Alright, they had met under very peculiar circumstances and she had grown rather fond of him, but hadn’t that been partly because the whiskey had loosened her up? She had tried so hard to forget him, because she had been so convinced they would never meet again and that he was nothing but an ordinary huntsman. And now look where they stood: They HAD met again and he turned out to be a Prince. Her status. A match for her not only in wit and spirit, but in blood as well. How the stars enjoyed to mock her!!

Yassia thought she saw a flicker of annoyance in his eyes as she rose up to the challenge he had presented her with, and she was not sure if she should feel happy about that or sad. It made her remember that evening when they had lost themselves in a banter that turned sillier and sillier, and yet no one had blamed the other or had harbored any ill feelings. But again this time seemed to be lost forever, in a different world almost. The world right now did not smile in favor on them.
And then he was looking at her again, these beautiful eyes practically piercing into hers, and for a moment she thought she saw something else in there, something that was not anger and annoyance, but… no she couldn’t tell, and it was gone soon enoigh. Yet she allowed her gaze to be locked and when he secretly challenged her to give him away, she did not rise to the bait, but rather used this opportunity to state a very important fact.
”My story is long and twisted as you will ever find one”, she replied, still looking straight into his eyes, almost forgetting the rest of the company she was in.

”But the bottom line is that a course of unfortunate events caused me to flee from my homeland, to escape the scheme of my vile uncle. In fear of him coming after me and taking me back, I disguised myself as a commoner to not leave any tracks. I could trust no one to bear this knowledge with me, however kind they appeared.”
The voice of Edmund forced her back into the here and now, and she turned away from Oliver to address him.
”Indeed, Prince Edmund, I am quite sure that no harm will come to me as long as I am in your company. The perspective of spending time in Mercia fills me with joy, as I have heard many things said about its beauty.”
There she was again, Princess Yassia born and bred. Able to hide her true feelings and appear perfectly courteous no matter the situation. But she knew that if Oliver was presented, the journey to and the stay in Mercia could become quite the opposite of joy. But now she could not take her words back. In for a penny, in for a pound.

[Oliver Strathmore of Mercia]

Was it really all just a thing of the past now? That memory that Oliver had continued to hold on to after a year, was it all coming down to this, down the drain like it never happened at all? Somehow, Oliver wanted to cling to the hope that it wasn’t all over. Not yet. But seeing the venomous look she had been giving him, Oliver was resigned to give in to the sad consequence. She had lied to him, kept her true identity a secret to him and his men. For what? To prey on their manly feelings? To see how easily they could fall for her wiles? He himself in particular? He had been a fool to allow himself to be ensnared, to be captivated by what only seemed to be lies and pretenses. Had Ailantha really been that dull for her to find her entertainment elsewhere? Well, she had certainly found them here in Albion, in Camelot to be exact.

When Yassia turned away from him and focused her attention on Edmund, he was afraid he’d break. She was driving him mad every second he was standing there, looking at her all calm and composed as if nothing was affecting her. She is quite the actress all right. She had fooled him and his men quite so effortlessly. He wondered now if she deliberately put herself in harm’s way just so he’d have their sympathy. And now it seems, she had set her sights on his brother. And Edmund was only too eager to play into her hands. Whatever, Oliver thought grudgingly. She’s a princess, he’s a prince. They’d make a lovely royal couple, and they’d bear the kingdom dozens and dozens of litter.

Yassia might not realize it yet, but Oliver was pretty sure Edmund had set his sights on her too. He doubt his brother would easily let her slip away now. The sudden invitation to Mercia was proof that he was rather serious with pursuing her. And Oliver wouldn’t put it past Yassia to decline his brother’s offer if it does fall on her lap. She’d become Queen of Mercia. She wouldn’t certainly be shortchanged. Then she was looking at him again, and all these resentful thoughts had immediately flown out of the window. He knew the effect she had on him, and he knew he should watch himself so as not to fall prey to her charms once again. He would admire her from afar while she go and make his brother a happy man.

He couldn’t stop the quiet snort that issued from him when she didn’t answer his question. Why was he not surprised when she did that? Despite everything, he couldn’t help but listen to her tale…for she was clearly addressing it to him. He was looking at his father and brother, hoping to divert her attention to them, but no. She was looking at him, talking to him. What she had to say was for him. Part of Oliver wanted to believe her, but part of him was wary as well. Was she making this all up again? Is she trying to win the sympathy of his father and his brother this time? If she is, it seemed to be working quite well.

“That is a distressing story you bring, princess,” Lord Bayard replied, his brows furrowed in concern and exasperation at Yassia’s tale. Edmund nodded in agreement, while Oliver continued to cross his arms over his chest, looking at her with doubt written all over his face. Indeed, it was distressing, but is it true? Oliver asked himself. Conflicts among royal families were not uncommon, but to know that it was endangering the lives of the people involved, family, that was something else, unforgivable.

“What of your parents? Any brothers or sisters?” Edmund was suddenly very interested. Oliver didn’t like it one bit that he wanted to know the answer to these questions, too.

The journey to Mercia was going to be a really long one now with Yassia in tow. What Oliver is going to do during the entire length of the travel, he didn’t know. One thing he does know is that he doubt he’d be able to get some restful sleep for many nights to come while trying to calm his mind about this complicated situation he had with Yassia.

[Yassia Dyfrène de Ailantha]

Yassia had been vague with her tale on purpose, circumventing the clear and solid facts so she could bear to talk about it. The unexpected and rather riling meeting with Oliver already made it hard to cling to her countenance, and now going into detail on the causes and effects of her flight might just be the straw that broke the camel’s back. The least thing she wanted was to make a scene now, appear weak in front of them all – and especially Oliver. However much she tried, she couldn’t quite shake the feeling off that she wanted to make a good impression in front of him, ridiculous as it may be. He didn’t deserve any of her consideration, as he himself had shown nigh to none, yes? Then again, simply the fact she didn’t want to stoop to his level kept her will firm to stay strong through it all.

As she was still looking at him, she caught the doubt in his eyes all too well, and soon enough her distress was clearly crowded out by newly upflaming anger. How dare he doubt her!! How dare he accuse her of fabricating a tale! Well, if that was what he thought of her, he wasn’t worth the breath she wasted on complaining! How could he be so stubborn to rather assume she was fooling him and the rest of his family present? What motive should she have? What was going on his this twisted mind of his to accuse her of such foul intentions? Had she EVER given him a reason to mistrust her?! Alright, she had not told him fair and square she was a princess, but had there been ANY need in the situation they had found themselves into? No! Even this far from Ailantha she could not fear the long arm of her uncle’s power enough! She had been on the brink of getting turned in a few times too many, she knew she had to be cautious.

Yes, there had been a moment when she had considered telling him everything, but back then she had still thought him nothing but a common huntsman and had feared him to take a respectable distance the minute she let it slip out of her mouth. And back then… she hadn’t wanted his distance. What a fool she had been!
There was only one true answer to his outrageous behaviour and Yassia didn’t take long to act on it. Almost brusquely, she broke the eye contact with him with a distinctive glare and gave him the cold shoulder in the very meaning of the word, focusing fully on his brother now who just had asked a very delicate question– at least for Yassia.
“What of your parents? Any brothers or sisters?”

For a split second, Yassia closed her eyes and swallowed, collecting her thoughts and preparing to shield her feelings. She hated to talk about this particular subject, even though she had become quite used to it over the last year. The closeness with her uncle Kaye had helped to begin to heal some of these wounds, but they were still delicate to the touch.
”None of them are alive anymore, that is what brought this unfavorable situation up in the first place”, she explained, her voice more or less devoid of any emotion – which probably told a very telling tale in itself. “My brother, the heir to the throne was killed a few years ago along with my mother in a treacherous road raid. That made me heir to the crown of Ailantha, but then my father married again. All seemed well… until he died a sudden and untimely death by a crippling stroke without having produced another male heir.”

Yassia swallowed again and suddenly her voice was thick, hoarse. “There was also my stepbrother and he accompanied me on the most part of my journey… until he went missing as we got shipwrecked on the shore of Albion.”
This part of her story always pained her the most, but she held her head high and blinked away the burning tears. She was Yassia Dyfrène de Ailantha, and she was proud and strong. She would not cry in front of strangers. Tears never made anything better.

[Oliver Strathmore of Mercia]

All these stories coming out so easily from her lips were making Oliver more confused and angry by the minute. How come it was pouring out so easily now? She could have told him all this when they had been together before. He could have sympathized and empathized with her properly then. He wouldn’t have kept his identity from her had he known who she really was, and what she was going through.

But no, she had most definitely thought him then just an ordinary hunter, unworthy of a princess’s tale as what she had told them earlier about not trusting her stories with just about anybody. She had definitely placed him in that category. She hadn't cared for him as much as he cared for her back then. Or again, they could just be mere fabrications, a game she was playing. What she hoped to achieve telling his father and brother this sad tale now, Oliver was curious to know. One thing was sure, she wasn’t going to get it from him. Not anymore.

He watched Yassia’s reaction at his brother’s question. What a superb actress! Oliver told himself with utter disbelief and incredulity. She’s a true royal brat all right. She knows her lies all too well. He needed to get his brother and father out of there soon or she’ll poison their minds the way she poisoned his.

Still, he listened half-heartedly as she told them about the strife in Ailantha and about losing her entire family. He tried to remain as stoic and uncaring as he could possibly be, but a part of him just wanted to reach out to her and take her in his arms, comfort her for what she had been through. No person, a lady at that, ought to suffer the way she did. She went on to speak about a half-brother who had accompanied her on her journey but went missing. He’s probably back in Ailantha having gotten rid of her for good, Oliver thought.

And then he shook his head out of these concerned thoughts. Her and her acting prowess! She knew too well how to capture her audience with her sob story. Oliver needed to keep his wits about him. He will not have her play him for a fool again.

“You are safe here in Albion now, princess. You have friends here, and we will protect you from your enemies.” Edmund had reached out to touch the side of her arm, obviously his not-so-little attempt at comforting her. His brother looked into her eyes and gave her his own brand of assurance. Try as he might, Oliver didn’t like what he was seeing.

“Well, everybody must be tired. We all should get some rest for tonight’s festivities, don’t you think?” Oliver blurted out hoping to break whatever was going on between Yassia and his brother. “Edmund, I said let’s go,” he repeated tapping his brother’s shoulder, which broke Edmund from whatever trance he was in.

“Yes, I guess we should. May I have the honor of walking you to your chambers, princess?” Edmund offered, and Oliver almost wanted to smack his brother at the back of his neck. If only his father wasn’t there. Oliver looked at Yassia with a blank expression on his face. He was about to say something when Lord Bayard patted his shoulder. “Come on, Oliver, there is something I need to talk to you about.”

He nodded at his father, and looked once again at Yassia, waiting for her answer to his brother’s offer. It filled him with mixed emotions…of all kinds, and he knew he’d best shut his mouth or else he might say something stupid, one that he might regret later. Perhaps, it was better that way, he told himself. It was better to be led away from that scene than to actually walk away from it by himself, right?

[Yassia Dyfrène de Ailantha]

It was never easy for Yassia speaking of her journey and the reasons for it like that. There were still some incidents forever to be enclosed in her heart, never to tell anyone unless she was willing to lay her whole life at this someone’s feet. Even Caitrin didn’t know everything, even though they shared a few horrible memories. But if anything, the people of Albion were of a rather curious nature and had inquired after her fate very often. She was used to tell at least part of it, and she got better and better with concealing her emotions every time. But however horrible those incidents were, they were of an almost sacred nature to her, part of her story, part of her truth, and thus someone doubting them, even though with just so many words, made her desperately angry. It was set! She would ignore Oliver from now on, try to forget him. If he didn’t have the decency to at least give her the benefit of doubt, then he was not the man she had seen in him.

His brother on the other hand, seemed a totally different story. Well, at least one of the family knew the meaning of courtesy. He paled in comparison with Oliver, of course, but by now Yassia should have learned that a pleasant exterior did by no means indicate a good heart and a good man in general. Vortigern had been the best example to that, though of course Yassia would never put Oliver and this man on the same level. There was a difference between rudeness and cruelty, if anything.
That didn’t alter the fact though that Yassia was getting extremely fed up with the whole situation. She needed time to get her head straight and think, and yet she had to play along to Prince Edmund’s courtesy.

Or was it even something more than courtesy? Yassia’s gaze quickly flickered to the hand that had suddenly be placed on her arm, but she allowed it to stay there, didn’t shake it off. Instead, she merely inclined her head and smiled.
”I am glad to hear that you believe me, Prince Edmund”, she replied in a soft voice, now once again in control over her emotions. “I know some who don’t, but if they choose to see me as a liar I cannot help them.” Now this was clearly directed to Oliver, even if she had vowed to ignore him. What a treacherous thing a tongue can be! “But yes, I know I have friends here, true friends and I am glad for every single one of them.”
The look she saw in Edmund’s eyes confused her. Was he trying to tell her something more than his courteous words implied, or was she just overreacting. In any way, this situation was getting far too much to deal with and so Yassia wasn’t even that angry at Oliver when he piped up:

“Well, everybody must be tired. We all should get some rest for tonight’s festivities, don’t you think?” “Edmund, I said let’s go,”

They were clearly waiting for her answer, and for a moment Yassia was at odds with herself. The offer to take her to her chambers was probably nothing more than a courteous offer, but what signal would it send to Oliver? And why the HELL did she care what Oliver would think?!
While her thoughts reached this impossible impass once more, she had not even noticed her gaze flickering towards him again, and this time their eyes met, for a seemingly endless second. But it was Yassia who broke the gaze, telling herself: He thinks you’re a liar… do not grace him with your forgiveness!

So she raised her hand and placed it on Edmund’s with another smile, telling him: “What a graceful offer, Sire, of course I accept!”
But her eyes, that treacherously flickered back to Oliver one last time before she was being led away, told an entirely different story.

[Oliver Strathmore of Mercia]

There was no denying the fact that she was now focusing all her attention towards Edmund. Oliver had to give it to his brother. He had always been the better man when it comes to courtesies, especially so when the lady was much to his liking. No lady could easily resist that. Edmund was every bit the gentleman. Much too gentlemanly actually, that is until he doesn’t get what he wants. For Yassia’s sake, he hoped she wouldn’t disappoint his brother. Edmund had the tendency to be spoiled. He always gets what he wants or else... Oliver couldn’t why Yassia would disappoint Edmund really. She seemed to like all the care and attention his brother was giving her now. It was probably something she wanted anyway. Yes, she’d make him a happy man when that time comes. He’d make her a happy woman, too. They both will get what they want, and everybody will be happy.

Everybody except him.

He couldn’t help the slight ache in his chest when she replied softly and calmly to Edmund, moreso when she directed another slight in his direction. So she could tell that he didn’t believe every bit of her story? Good for her, Oliver thought. There was no denying that. Never had Oliver felt so betrayed all his life than now, by her. It would take a while to heal whatever hurt he had caused her when she played with him and his feelings.

“What a graceful offer, Sire, of course I accept!”

A different kind of anger was suddenly rising inside him when Oliver heard her words and saw the touch he gave his brother. The thought about Edmund walking Yassia to her chambers did all kinds of crazy things to his head and that traitorous little organ in his chest. While he couldn’t imagine Edmund making a pass at her so soon after he and Yassia just met, Oliver had no control over what could happen. He almost wanted to decline his father’s request when he met her eyes, and maybe follow his brother and Yassia, just to be sure. But no, he had to behave and act accordingly, as a prince, in front of his father. He will have to stick with what he had decided earlier. She had played with him, and even if his heart still screamed her name, there was no use going back to the way things were between them—a year ago, in the Forests of Balor, where everything had been perfect.