Now, seriously??!!

[Yassia Dyfrène de Ailantha]

She had serioulsy cotemplated staying in her room for the banquet and the dancing that would most likely ensue after. Yassia had no mind for festivities now, even less than before she had stumbled over Oliver. He had managed to completely spoil her mood, and his brother Edmund had surely tried to raise her spirits, but inwardly he had not succeeded in the slightest. Then again, this was a gathering in Arthur’s honor, missing out on it would be insulting him, and that was the least thing she wanted, not only because she still needed his help. She was proud of him and happy for him that he finally became what he deserved to be. If it wasn’t for Oliver she would have swallowed her own grief and put on a brave show. But him being there would make everything so much harder.

So of course she had come. Like the few dozen other nobles she was sitting at the long tables now, barely touching the food that nearly made the tables crash with its abundance. No one could expect her to be interested in eating now, right? Even still after a year of more or less settling down in Camelot unwillingly, or just not being on the road anymore, she still could civilize her needs for food quite strongly. She had had to go with little or no food at all for days, and that had reduced her hunger to a small degree in general. And you could very well say as well that the recent events had spoilt her appetite. Yassia had long since decided that as soon as it was considered alright, she would excuse herself and retire to her chambers for the night. The least thing she wanted was to be forced into another conversation with Oliver again. Or Edmund. As nice as he was, Yassia didn’t think she could deal with anything anymore today.

And yet, who was she fooling really? It had not only been an act to adjust her clothing to her rather sombre mood, getting rid of the rich royal garments. The dress she wore now, albeit more plain and lacking the golden splendour, was still a nice choice. She had redone her hair as well, weaving small strands of the top layer of her hair into an intricate net that practiically encaged the rest of her hair. And her forhead sported a silver circlet, plain as well, but marking her royal status for all to see.
She couldn’t even fool herself succesfully and say she had put in so much effort in her appearance for herself. No… a twisted part of her mind still wanted to catch the eye of a certain someone… there was no denying it however hard she tried.

Soon enough everyone seemed to have eaten his fill and busy servants cleared the tables. Within a short amount of time the banquer hall would be ready for the planned dance. Time to leave, clearly. And yet, Yassia couldn’t bring her feet to move towards the door. Instead, her eyes started to scan the crowd.

---

dress
circlet
hair

[Oliver Strathmore of Mercia]

His eyes had instantly found her the minute she walked into the banquet hall and settled herself among the other nobles to enjoy the feast. His heart skipped a beat as he gazed at her, breathtaking in her emerald splendor of a gown. The circlet settling on her well made up hair showed everyone the princess that she truly was. Oliver may deny it, but she looked just as lovely a princess as she was the grubby faced nomad. No, not lovely. Beautiful. He felt that familiar ache in his chest again when he realized how he had lost her now when she had once been his and he hers…in that forest…a year ago.

Acting like the royal prince that he was, now sober in the seal and colors of Mercia, Oliver tried his best to concentrate more on the food before him and the endless talk that Edmund was trying to get him into...as civilly as he could. Since Edmund had walked Yassia to her chambers, Oliver’s head was swirling with nothing but the thought of them in each other’s arms. Edmund was rather elusive with that information, and Oliver was not exactly in the mood to pry it out of him. Hence, the paranoia. While it may be unfair to hate his brother and father for staging that at the spur of the moment, Oliver couldn’t help it. He could not look Edmund or Lord Bayard in the eye without looking at them with contempt. But then again, he knew there was nothing more he could do. If Edmund had found his future queen in Yassia, then Oliver was duty bound to serve them both as loyally as he could. The thought made him lose his appetite altogether, and he was glad that it was over as soon as it had begun.

“Look at her, she’s perfect,” Edmund gushed as the tables were cleared and the hall readied for the dance. They were both looking at Yassia, Oliver agreeing with his brother in that respect. “And what am I still doing here talking to you?” Oliver didn’t even get a response out. He had turned to see Edmund make his way towards where Yassia was standing, scanning the crowd for who knows who or what. She could be looking for Edmund for all he cared. Well, she need not search more as her prince charming was already on his way to her, Oliver scoffed to himself.

A servant laden with a tray full of sparkling wine passed his way, and Oliver immediately grabbed a goblet. He downed it in one long swig before turning away and walking out of the hall. Watching his brother woo the woman of his dreams was not exactly a past time he would enjoy.

“Good evening, princess,” Edmund said giving Yassia a small bow. “I trust Your Highness has taken a good enough rest for tonight’s dancing? May I have the honor of being your first dance for the night?” Edmund was every bit the charming and courteous Prince that he was supposed to be. Lord Bayard would be most proud to see his son working hard at pursuing Princess Yassia.

[Yassia Dyfrène de Ailantha]

As if her eyes had taken on a new special kind of skill, they didn’t need long to find Oliver. Almost as if she had known where he was all along, her searching eyes settled on the all too familiar figure that had been her stronghold a year ago. How many hours had she spent leaning against his strong chest, first writhing in agony and then later… no! Stop it Yassia! She chided herself and forced both her eyes and thoughts into another direction. That had been in another time, in another life even! She could not dwell on it now. He had made it more than clear how he despised her, and as much as it pained her, Yassia was too proud to beg for his attention. If he chose to see her as a liar and whatever else might be going on in his mind, there was nothing she could do to change that apart from speaking the truth. She had done that and he had chosen not to listen. She was not at fault here!

And yet, when her eyes settled once more on him, standing beside his brother, and she found two pairs of eyes looking her way. Like every time their eyes seemed to meet through whatever distance, it sent a shock wave through Yassia’s body, but it was by no means an unpleasant feeling. It was like his eyes made her body come to life, for the first time fully alive with every fibre that was to it…
But of course this feeling was not to last for long, as it was once again Oliver turning away. Again Yassia chided herself for her foolish behavior. Was that how a grown woman, a princess and soon-to-be queen should act? No! She was giving herself the airs of a giggling fifteen year old servant girl! She could do better than that, surely!

As she had forced her eyes away again, she had not witnessed what had come to pass between the two brothers, but as her eyes strayed back, all she saw of Oliver was his slender back just moving out of the door in a rather determined stride. And Edmund himself was so suddenly by her side, she could have sworn he had used magic of some kind. Or had she been really so deep in her thoughts?
“I trust Your Highness has taken a good enough rest for tonight’s dancing? May I have the honor of being your first dance for the night?”
He asked her to dance… Well, on one hand Yassia loved nothing more than dancing, and she had already regretted missing out on it on Oliver’s behalf. The court of Camelot was blessed with many enthusiastic dancers and on the few feasts she had already attended she had never stayed a wallflower for long. Many had asked her to dance and she had danced with many. But all the while she had remembered a certain snippet of a conversation with a certain huntsman. “You ought to tell your wound to heal faster so you can dance sooner,” he had said. And she had wanted nothing more than to dance with him. And now she was about to dance with his brother… well, she guessed that was all fate would allow her…

All the well-mannered princess, she planted a smile on her face, though her heart was heavy with remorse for things that could have been.
”I would be the one feeling honored, Prince Edmund!” she assured him, and almost meant it. He was not at fault for what had come to pass between his brother and her, so she could not very well make him suffer for it. He was kind and courteous enough, so there was nothing speaking against dancing with him, yes? Nothing rational anyway.
Already the musicians had prepared to open the dance, so Yassia once again laid her hand on Edmund’s preparing to be led on the dance floor.

[Oliver Strathmore of Mercia]

Edmund couldn’t have been any happier when Yassia accepted his offer for a dance. He hadn’t really entertained the thought of her refusing his gracious offer. And why would she? He was Crown Prince. He was a catch. Any woman, princess or not, would indeed be honored to be the center of his attention right now. Of course, these rather haughty thoughts were known only to him. Outside, Edmund showed a façade like that of a shy kid who had just been given a wonderful Christmas present. “Please. To dance with a lovely lady such as you is more than I could ever ask,” Edmund replied as he led Yassia to the center of hall just as the music swelled to signal the beginning of the dance.

Many other couples had joined them on the floor, and they all danced and swayed to the ever familiar tune of the waltz. Edmund had eyes only for Princess Yassia as he effortlessly maneuvered her around, leading the dance with expert foot and hand work. “So…” he started, hoping to initiate a conversation of sorts. “…Camelot knows how to throw a party, don’t you think?”

Oliver was barely out of the door when the music had swelled to mark the official start of the planned dance. He had known for certain that Edmund would ask Yassia to dance. Yassia would obviously have accepted, and again it painted a rather annoying little picture in his mind. A year ago, Oliver had teased Yassia that he would throw a party to celebrate her victory over the cockatrice, and that there would be lots and lots of dancing and merrymaking. When she told him she loved dancing, they had playfully asked her wound to heal faster so she could dance sooner. He had missed that chance. And he doubt if he’d ever be given another one again. It was Edmund she was gracing with her dancing now.

Standing there, he managed a few respectful nods and bows to guests entering the hall as he tried to debate with himself as to what to do. He didn’t want to see Edmund and Yassia dance together, but he did want to see her dance. The thought of her dancing had never really left his mind since that encounter in the woods, and he knew now would be a good opportunity as any to finally see it for real. Not wanting to have anything change his mind, Oliver turned on his heels and walked back into the huge banquet hall. Sure enough, it was already filled with couples after couples swirling and dancing to their hearts’ delight. He had moved through the sidelines trying to catch a glimpse of Yassia and Edmund, and it didn’t take him long to find them right in the middle of the dancing crowd.

[Yassia Dyfrène de Ailantha]

The waltz had to be one of Yassia’s favourite dances. Just a couple of years ago, it had been deemed quite scandalous when introduced into the court scene, as it caused man and woman to dance with not much of a respectable distance, one hand holding her by the waist even. It was not a group event like the other court dances where you always interacted with other couples so that you never quite could establish a feeling of privacy. But the waltz was nothing if not a pair event. Apart from the basic steps there was no particular order to observe and each couple could find its own personal way across the dance floor as long as it did not intercept the way others took.
If you happened across a good dancer, a firm leader, the woman could practically lean back and float over the floor like a feather. Only flying must be better than dancing a waltz. And Edmund, Yassia observed, was a very good dancer. She could have easily let go and let herself be taken up wholly by the dance, but something held her back.

It was nothing but a stupid sentiment, but she felt that her heart was not in it. A part of her wished to be dancing with a different man. The very same man that had just walked out of the banquet hall in a hurry.
But dreaming of one man while dancing with another was not only uncourtly, it was also unfair, so Yassia tried to grace Edmund with more attention. He was resuming to nothing but courteous talk though, she realized with an inward sigh. It was the proper thing to do while dancing, keep a distance of mind if you can’t uphold the proper physical distance, but still… she couldn’t help but wish for more. However, she answered as it was right.
“That they really do”, she agreed with a little laugh. “And isn’t it amazing how they brought it on so quickly. The time for preparation was not long. I have seen a few feasts in Camelot already, and they were all marvelous.”

Should she add a comment now about how glad she was for Arthur he could experience the temporal crowning as a true feast, without having to mourn his father? Uther Pendragon was still alive, even though he was said to be a broken man. Maybe time would heal the wounds, but maybe they also wouldn’t. It was maybe not a topic to talk about while dancing after all…
As Edmund swayed and turned her another round, Yassia’s eyes thought to catch a movement at the door, and with the next right turn she craned her neck slightly to see clearer. Was she imagining things or was that Oliver standing only a few yards away? Why had he come back? What had MADE him come back? She nearly lost the rhythm of the dance for a moment, but then mentally slapped herself. Don’t care so much about him, he certainly doesn’t care for you…
And yet, and yet… her favourite two words when it came to Oliver de Mercia…

[Oliver Strathmore of Mercia]

Oliver wasn’t much of a fan of dancing as Edmund was. Whenever their dancing teacher was in the castle to give them lessons, Oliver always had an excuse not to attend. Either it was an ailing stomach or a wound on the pad of his foot, it was almost always effective enough to have him sit the lessons out. It wasn’t that he hated dancing, he just had more fun things to do with his time, like going out hunting with his friends or practicing archery. All in all, he probably only managed to attend a third of the lessons while Edmund had completed them all. And besides, who needed lessons when dancing ought to come naturally, from the heart, right? Oliver had argued that to his father when he was still a teenager, and the old man only shook his head at his stubborn son.

Still, he loved to watch couples dance in perfect rhythm, or any gypsy who can sway her whips with such energy for that matter. He just didn’t want to join them. He was much content to be the spectator…or a critic in the case of his brother and his current dancing partner. While Edmund and Yassia looked every bit the lovely couple as they moved through the floor, Oliver noticed that Yassia was all stiff and constrained in her movements no matter how expertly Edmund tried to lead her. It’s not that she wasn’t a good dancer, it just looked like she was holding herself back, not giving it her all. Oliver felt a sliver of delight flit across his mind at the thought that Yassia might not enjoy the dance as much as Edmund was. He took momentary comfort in that knowledge.

Then she had laughed at something that Edmund said, and Oliver felt jealousy rear its angry head once again. He stamped it down just as soon as it had risen. He hated how traitorous and confused all his emotions had become when it concerns Yassia. Tonight, he found out nothing was either black or white when it comes to her. Everything was gray. Everything was unclear. He should be angry at her, and yet he was not. He should just leave her with Edmund, and yet he could not. He almost wanted to scream at all these indecisiveness that she was giving him.

Leaving his spot, he turned and walked away yet again. But this time he hadn’t left the banquet hall. There was only one way to tame the torrent emotions that was raging inside him now. And that was to confront them head on.

“My turn, Edmund,” he suddenly found himself tapping his brother’s shoulder. He didn’t even waited for his brother to respond. At the exact moment in the dance when the couples turn away from each other, Oliver had stepped into his brother’s place gently elbowing him aside. “I’ll make sure to put in a good word for you,” he winked as Edmund walked away with a what-the-hell look on his face, and Yassia just turned into place and into his arms.

“Hello, Princess,” Oliver said with a small smile as he held her hand and settled the other around her waist. He had pulled her a little closer to him as he led her through the next steps of the waltz. ”I see your shoulder has healed quite nicely for you to dance again so gracefully. I had dreaded that my arrow might have rendered your shoulder unfit for dancing anymore,” he added, his voice dripping with undisguised sarcasm. He was afraid he would be reduced to a bumbling idiot the second he was confronted with her presence, but he was glad his words had never lost their bite. Inwardly though, his heart was hammering like crazy against his chest at the nearness of her. He could smell the sweet scent of her perfume, and it assaulted his senses. He was literally and figuratively breathing her in, and that traitorous part of him never wanted to let go.

[Yassia Dyfrène de Ailantha]

The dance was over fairly quickly, and Yassia wondered for a moment if a waltz wasn’t supposed to last longer? But then again, who was she to complain? She had enjoyed the dance, yes, but she also would not mind leaving now. Would Edmund ask her for another dance? He seemed not to be averse to it, and a part of Yassia actually appreciated the attention he was giving her. Not for his, but for her own sake. Being viewed with so much disgust and scorn like Oliver had looked at her could mean a serious prick to your self-esteem, and so Yassia didn’t really mind if it was raised a little again from the ground.
They did not speak again and Yassia found the silence soothing on one hand, but on the other it also allowed her thoughts to stray. And in dangerous directions at that. Over and over Oliver’s words repeated themselves in her mind. That the woman he had known had been everything she was not… it was absurd of course, but then a tiny part of Yassia ached to know if it could be true. She HAD acted differently back then… she had allowed things to happen she would normally never allow. But Oliver had been different back then as well…

Oh great, wasn’t there a MINUTE on this cursed evening when she would NOT think about him?! And to make matters even worse, just when she herself had been about to ask Edmund if he agreed on another dance, she heard an all too familiar voice that struck her through and through.
HIS turn? He did not… he had not just…?!
But there his arm already sneaked around her waist and she found herself eye in eye with none other than Oliver, leading her into the next dance. Her feet automatically responded to the rhythm with years of practise, so they at least spared her a thorough embarrassment, but the rest of her body was not quite as calm. Why was he dancing with her?! She could not deny that it felt wonderful, felt RIGHT in a twisted way, as if his arms where the only place she belonged, but just a look in his eyes brought her back to the harsh reality.

His eyes were not gleaming with the kindness she had known and come to love about him. Like before, he was eyeing her with scorn and some other undistinguishable feelings that were oddly opposed to the situation they were in.
This dance, she realized, would not be much of a dance… it was meant to be a duel!
”I see your shoulder has healed quite nicely for you to dance again so gracefully. I had dreaded that my arrow might have rendered your shoulder unfit for dancing anymore,”
It cost her much to not wince at these harsh words and she wondered again bitterly how she possibly could have brought herself in such a situation. It was an odd distortion to her dance before with Edmund. He had said courteous words that were empty… Oliver now used the same language but his words were practically bursting with hidden and hateful meaning.

”I remember you voicing such a concern”, she replied in the same fashion. Her voice level, but her eyes practically shooting daggers at him. “But not to worry, thanks to your gracious care I am quite restored and won’t break at the first heavy gust of wind.”
There was a clear challenge in her words. He could assault her all he wanted, could slander her openly or secretly, she was strong enough to retaliate and make him pay. Oh yes she would make him pay! Apparently he had been lying with every word he said a year ago. Or he had not, but he couldn’t see past the fact that she was not a free little nomad. Someone he could seduce and then never see again…
However, a tiny part of her hoped that it was all just a grand misunderstanding that would clear itself somehow. But she would not beg for his acceptance. She had her pride! Just that her body knew nothing of this pride. It wanted nothing more than to melt in his arms, be there and stay there forever.

[Oliver Strathmore of Mercia]

”I remember you voicing such a concern.”

Of course, she remembered. If he hadn't know any better, she probably had staged the whole thing all along. Make herself some damsel in distress while she prey on the hapless and helpless feelings of men on the road. She was lucky to have come across honorable men like his band. What if she had stumbled upon bandits or ruthless mercenaries who would have taken advantage of her? What if! His anger flared even more at the thought of her in the hands of merciless men. She could have been abused, she could have died!

“But not to worry, thanks to your gracious care I am quite restored and won’t break at the first heavy gust of wind.”

There was no hiding the contempt in her own voice as well. It matched his own with just the same amount of intensity if not even more. She may sound all calm and controlled but the looks she was giving him could kill a man. Was she angry that he had caught on to her ruse, to her desperate little game? "Oh, don't give me too much credit now. I'm sure any other man would have been on their toes to cater to your every whim," he scoffed at her obvious challenge, his eyes burning with controlled rage now. Oliver didn't know why Yassia could elicit such intense feelings in him. No, it wasn't just anger. He was feeling the betrayal from the fact that all that happened between them in that forest had all been just an act on her part. She's probably inwardly laughing at how pathetic he must have been bumbling on his feet trying to make her comfortable that time.

The next part of the waltz was to take them dancing with a different partner, but Oliver ignored it, and didn't as much as pay any attention to anybody else on the dance floor. Instead, he tightened his grip on her hand and splayed the hand that was resting on the small of her back to pull her more closer to him that their bodies now were pressed against one another, their faces so dangerously close. He wanted--no needed to know the truth. "Very well played, Princess. I knew it was all too good to be true. You were too good to be true. How does it feel now that you've got me all twisted around your little fingers? Are you set to do the same to my brother?"

Oliver dreaded her response. Part of him was clinging to the hope that her story was true--the strife in Ailantha, her need to go undercover to protect her life--and that everything that had happened between them in the Forests of Balor were every bit as genuine. But he couldn't get his hopes up too high now, could he? He had been a past time for her, a plaything in her heartless game. Nothing more. And he could almost feel his heart breaking at that painful thought.

[Yassia Dyfrène de Ailantha]

What was going on his twisted mind, really?! What kind of stupid tale had he fabricated there in his mind? Hadn’t he been the one lying as well? Playing the normal huntsman with his friends, pretending to be nothing but a common man. To what end? Surely because otherwise women might feel intimidated. Would she have joked around like that with him had she known who he really was? Certainly not, but not because of being intimidated! She would have felt obliged to act in a thoroughly courtly fashion, like she had been brought up to! So how dare he now assume she had made it all up? Who would be so twisted as to bring oneself in the line of danger to ensnare men? That was one of the absurdest things she had ever heard, and the thought filled her with amusenebt and anger alike.

"Oh, don't give me too much credit now. I'm sure any other man would have been on their toes to cater to your every whim,"
Yassia gave a very unladlylike snort and intensified her glare. If she had possessed any magic Oliver would just now suffer death by a choking spell or anything. Maybe it was good she didn’t. Not only because that would mean her own certain death, but because something inside her still didn’t want to hurt him. Well, not much… she wouldn’t mind slapping sense into him right now.
”I once called you a good man for helping me, Prince Oliver”, she retorted, meeting the rage in his eyes bit by bit. “And I meant that. But now I see I was thoroughly mistaken. I wonder, do you lash out at me like that to hide some base motives of your own?” The rememberance of their sweet kiss now burnt in the back of her mind. Had he been playing her all along? “Too bad for you we didn’t get much further yes? Too bad I was not as compliant as Lady Electra!”

She had not wanted to bring up this particular topic, but just right now she could not stop herself. The image, together with the memories she had treasured in her heart, just hurt too much. She had been weak back then… both physically and mentally. And still she wished they could just get back to this feeling…
Yassia had not expected what came next, him drawing her so much closer and she could not suppress a gasp of surprise… and was there something else to it? Fear? No… maybe a little, as he still seemed to enraged, but there was another sentiment she could not quite place, and it was this one that made her mouth go dry and her breath and heartbeat accelerate. Even through the many layers of her dress, she could feel his rigid muscles pressed against her. A part of her wanted to wiggle free, but another, stupid part also wanted to stay.

Her eyes growing wider and wider, she listened to his enraged speech. Now that was the proof: he thought she had staged all of this! HE thought she had played HIM while she thought the same!! How… twisted could a situation get?! But the relief was short-lived as he mentioned Edmund. How dare he indeed portraying her as a minx! Had SHE been the one being surprised with someone else in a dark corner?!
There was no need to speak loud due to their closeness, but her words were still distinct and clear, carrying all her annoyance and anger.
Locking his gaze, she spoke very slowly. “I see… I see now what you think of me! And as fixed as you seem to be on this idea, I doubt there is much I can say to change your mind. But let me tell you this…” she had to compose herself momentarily as her mind was reeling from their pleasant-confusing proximity.
”I swear on the souls of my father, mother and brother that what I told you is true. The choice to conceal myself from you was not mine to make. I had just escaped another pair of fishing hands that wanted to exploit my predicament. If you don’t believe the petty words of a treacherous woman, then go and ask my uncle Kaye. Being a knight of Camelot should make him honorable enough in your eyes.”

[Oliver Strathmore of Mercia]

No dance has ever been more intense and loaded with tension than the one going on between Oliver and Yassia at that moment. If anybody were endowed with seeing the aura surrounding them, they would have probably seen fiery red or a blazing fire surrounding them, wrapping them fully. Oliver wasn’t going to back down so easily. He had allowed himself to be strung along by her wiles once before. He wasn’t going to let her get away with it now.

”I once called you a good man for helping me, Prince Oliver. And I meant that. But now I see I was thoroughly mistaken. I wonder, do you lash out at me like that to hide some base motives of your own?”

That she did, and Oliver had all too gullibly believed her. He had basked in the wonderful feeling that her seemingly sincere praise had brought him. Only now had he realized how he had only been made a fool. He couldn’t help but scoff at her words. Was she making him feel bad now? “Enough lies, Princess. Your words then were nothing but empty compliments, uttered only to serve your own purpose and nobody else’s.” He deftly moved her across the floor in rhythm with the dance, but his mind was anywhere but on the dance floor right now.

”My motives and intentions had been clear from the beginning. At least I had the decency to clean up the mess I made when I shot you. I didn’t walk away. You, on the other hand, exploited it, abused the hospitality and kindness of my men…played with my feelings!” His voice, while still hard and harsh, continued to be as controlled as he could get it to be. But he knew he was already earning stares from couples who were dancing nearby. He had not intended the last bit to come out, but it just slipped out at her unseemly accusation and at the mention of Lady Electra. It was none of her business really whatever they were doing behind that curtain. Why she had to step in and make a huge fuss out of it was beyond him. He felt she did it only to spite him.

Then she told him her story and even swore on the spirits of her family. Inwardly, Oliver wanted so much to believe her, but a huge part of him was still hurting. His pride was still hurting, and his pride refused to give in. “You’re right. There is nothing more you can say to change my mind. I’ve had enough of your games, princess. Go find another willing victim for your act, while I go snatch myself a lady to go further with.” It was the easy way out, he knew. Probably even the cowardly way out. He may have wanted the truth, but he was much too enraged and doubtful right now to believe it even if it stared him right in the face.

Quite reluctantly, he pulled away from their dancing embrace, and Oliver gave her a small bow before turning on his heels and walking away, leaving her in the middle of the crowd all by herself. Instantly, he felt empty and alone at the loss of contact, but Oliver continued on until he was out of the hall. While he thought a dance with Yassia will help calm him down, it did nothing but fuel his anger further. His emotions were still in a violent tumble at everything to make sense of all that was going on between him and Yassia. In his daydreams, it was not supposed to turn out this way. In his daydreams, he was having the most wonderful time of his life with her. In his daydreams, she was his and he was hers.

Edmund was immediately by her side as soon as Oliver left. “I don’t want to pry, but whatever just happened there, I ask forgiveness for my brother’s rudeness. I don’t know what has gotten into him lately. He’s never always like this,” Edmund said trying to salvage the situation. It turns out he had been closely watching Oliver and Yassia dance, and had noticed the rather hostile interaction between the two. The last thing Edmund wanted now was for the princess to change her mind about going with them to Mercia just because of what Oliver had done. He will need to have a long talk with his rebellious little brother later. "May I get you some refreshments? You look rather exhausted," he asked as he led her to the sidelines.

[Yassia Dyfrène de Ailantha]

It was not only the waltz that made her head spin. It was this horrible mixture of anger, confusion and something else as well, and Yassia had no patience to try and map out what exactly this ‘something else’ was. She just wanted to survive the night without killing him, and as things were right now, she didn’t know how much longer she could keep her temper at bay. She had never felt so thoroughly, meanly misunderstood in hr entire life. That someone would accuse her of playing with men shocked her to the bone, as it was such a far thing from her personality. She, who would have to have let matters of the heart aside in deciding who to wed in the end, a sly, calculating minx?! It was not only wrong, it was unfair! What on earth could mislead Oliver thus? Why was he such a pig-headed ignorant jerk?! He had not been like this in her memory… nothing of this should have turned out that way. Yes, she had been angry at him first, but she had trusted that they could work this out… turns out they could not.

“Enough lies, Princess. Your words then were nothing but empty compliments, uttered only to serve your own purpose and nobody else’s.”
Yassia gasped. That comment was worse than any physical blow he could have given her. What on earth was wrong in his brain?! He could not really, truly believe his own words, now could he?!
”How would YOU know that”, she hurled at him, nearly spitting fire and not much caring anymore to keep her voice low. The music was loud enough after all, and she could not care less if they were given odd glances. He had brought this on himself, after all! “You claim to know me so well, Oliver, and yet you know NOTHING! You only see what your stupid pride wants you to see! Is it so much easier for you to bear to think that you have been played than admitting you were wrong?!”

She shook her head wildly, not wanting to believe that she had heard him say this. “I never played with your feelings!” she stated firmly, trying to lock his gaze. “If you can’t get over the fact that Yassia is a princess and not a nomad, then I truly cannot help you! I am still the same woman you supported in your arms back then.” Why was this all being such a big deal for him?! Would anything change for him?! Was it that he suddenly was not the superior one anymore in this encounter? Could he not bear that she now was his equal? However much she tried, she could not make sense of any of this.

His last outburst left her speechless. She just stood there and hardly recognized that he had stepped away. Well, her mind did not, her body did so very well! It felt hollow without his figure so close to it, like she just had been cut in half and the other half was leaving with him. No words would come to her to counter this heavy blow, at least not yet. She only watched him leave, devastation and anger alike flooding her mind.
And then there was suddenly Edmund again. She hardly registered his words while her eyes still traced the path Oliver had taken, out of the hall… and possibly out of her life…
”Oh…” she said, trying to square her shoulders and slap some sense into herself. She needed to focus on Edmund now! “No… no… it was nothing…” Nothing at all, indeed… he had just torn her to pieces, that was all… And she would not let him get away with it!! She would go after him, and now! But first… she needed to get rid of Edmund.

Guilt churned her stomach as she decided on a plan in the blink of an eye. He did not deserve to be treated like this, and she felt thoroughly mean to use him like that, but right now getting to Oliver and possibly kill him was her primary concern.
”Yes… some refreshment might be nice”, she agreed with a half-hearted smile and waited impatiently for him to turn and vanish into the crowd. As soon as he had, Yassia sneakily slipped through the crowd and left the hall herself. Where could Oliver have gone off to? She needed to settle this once and for all, and if she had to practically beat the truth into him!

[Oliver Strathmore of Mercia]

“You claim to know me so well, Oliver, and yet you know NOTHING!”

Her words rang in his ears as he continued to march out of the hall, out of the castle, and out into the starry night. He honestly didn’t know where he was headed, he just let his feet take him wherever they will. He would have dashed out towards the lower village, out to the dark forests if he could. He definitely didn’t know her at all. How he desperately wanted to, but it seems circumstances just didn’t want things to work out for them. The tenderness that they had once shared was steeped with so much hatred and contempt now. To bring back the old feeling was going to be a difficult one.

“ You only see what your stupid pride wants you to see! Is it so much easier for you to bear to think that you have been played than admitting you were wrong?!”

He was never wrong. Always the hunter, Oliver trusted and gave in to his base instincts, the first thought and feeling that would first come to light when confronted with a situation. Upon realizing who Yassia really was, nothing but betrayal surfaced out of him, and he immediately succumbed to it. No questions asked. Had he been wrong this time around? A part of him faintly whispered in the affirmative but it was too weak for him to pay any heed to.

“I never played with your feelings!”

I never played with yours either, Oliver said to himself as he made a turn towards the gardens and found himself leaning against a tree that grew there. He may be confused, yes, but he knew that one other feeling for certain. It had all been real. During their time in the forest together, Oliver had always felt that there was something about Yassia that made her a cut above the rest for him. Her wit, the sparkle in her eyes, the sweetness of her laughter, the magic in her touch…Oliver knew she was someone he would never forget for a long time.

But seeing her tonight had thoroughly caught him offguard. He had been lashing at her for interrupting his flirtation with Lady Electra, and it felt like a rug was being pulled underneath his feet when she revealed who she was to his father and brother. Oliver had not been prepared for that, so that was another reason to continue to hide behind the anger that had already been there.

“ I am still the same woman you supported in your arms back then.”

Of course, he knew she was. Every part of him was screaming to take her in his arms again and comfort her like before…maybe even more. When they danced, each and every one of his senses came to life as if a missing part had just been found. But he had destroyed what could have been a wonderful reunion, and threw everything to waste. He was the one who had changed. In one night, he had thrown it all away.

And it was too late now. Edmund had clearly staked his claim on her when he had officially extended to her an invitation to visit Mercia. Yassia may not have realized it yet, but Oliver knew his brother and father too well to know the strings attached to that invitation. Edmund would make her a fine husband, and she would make a fine queen. She doesn’t seem to be too averse at the idea after having eagerly accepted his brother’s offer to accompany her to her chambers. And Oliver felt his ears heat up at the unbidden thought of Yassia in Edmund's arms yet again.

[Yassia Dyfrène de Ailantha]

Yassia was fuming and she was hurt. It was a deadly combination. She needed an outlet and sadly for Oliver she had only one target in mind: him. She had enough of his false and hurtful accusations, she had enough of always being the one to blame in his eyes! What was he thinking? That she had willingly almost killed herself, and that she had been out in the probably most dangerous forest of Albion for fun? What HAD he been thinking of her anyway? As little as Yassia could combine this picture he must have of her with who she truly was, as little could she combine the old Oliver and the new one. Where was the sweet, caring though sometimes flirty man she remembered? The one that had taken her heart in one stride? Now he only made to stomp on her very heart with his totally inexplicable behavior.

Inexplicable, really? Even now, when she was so thoroughly angry at him, Yassia could not help but try to figure it out. There simply HAD to be an explanation, and she would not let this go without it. If he hated her now she wanted to know the reason out of his very mouth! If he had any reason to blame her, he had to give her the chance to vindicate herself. That was nothing if not fair! And if there was any reasonable explanation she would try to accept it… and try to move on. Because frankly, at this point Yassia could not believe in a happy end anymore. And this after she had just accepted an invitation to his homeland. Was she a masochist? Granted, it had not been him inviting her anyway, it had been his thoroughly charming brother, but the bottom line stayed the same: she would have to spend more time with him when all he wanted was getting rid of her apparently.

He would not get away with it! Now was the time to lay all cards on the table and she would NOT step down from that decision!
Swiftly she moved through the – apart from the guards – empty corridors, rushing so she would not lose Oliver’s trail. He was headed outside, towards the gardens probably. That was better than starting a scene in public of course, as Yassia was still a born and bred courtier and would hate to let others witness their confrontation.
With a deep intake of breath she welcomed the cool night air that already held a tint of chill, indicating that yet again the seasons were turning. Another year would pass… with her still being in the wrong place, dealing with problems that should not be her own.
Too bad she had not brought a shawl or anything… but then again Yassia had the indistinct feeling that her blood would be boiling soon enough to keep her reasonably warm.

She saw him standing there, beneath a few trees and just the familiar shape of his figure made her heart squeeze together in a feeling that was half hurt half pleasure. But it could not be. He had destroyed it. Or she had… long ago, with lying to him. Who could really say who was to blame here, the outcome stayed the same.
”Taking the easy way out, are we?” she called out to him in a rather challenging tone, though her voice was slightly hushed. No need to cause a scene just yet.

[Oliver Strathmore of Mercia]

Lost in his own confused thoughts and the hatred that he now harbored against himself more than anything, Oliver had not noticed Yassia approach. He had been looking far and out in the horizon as he tried to make sense of all that was happening, trying to calm himself down before going back into the celebration, hopefully more composed and more in control of himself. But apparently, the fates don’t want it to work out that way.

At the sound her voice, Oliver jumped in surprise, and he would have probably rushed to her had he not stopped himself. He just stood there, stiff as a board even as every part of him was jumping with joy at the sight of her. She had followed him out here even when he had rudely left her in the middle of the dance floor altogether. She had come, and Oliver just wanted to take her in his arms and capture her lips in his, wanting things to be just the way they were a year ago, when everything had been so easy and simple.

But the challenging and accusing tone of her voice, though hushed, all but made Oliver’s blood start to simmer again. Jaws clenched, eyes hard, he moved towards where she stood though still keeping a considerable distance between them. He didn’t trust himself to get anymore closer to her, and besides there was no more use repairing broken bridges when everything had gone underwater. It was all too late. There was nothing between him and Yassia now. At least, that was what he was trying to convince himself.

“What are you doing here? Had I not made it clear that I don’t want to play any of your games anymore?” he spat out in a voice a little louder than hers. What was she up to now anyway? With his own traitorous emotions, Oliver had decided it was best to stay away from her as much as he can. Keep as much distance as possible. And yet here she was imposing her presence on him. While part of him was soaring in euphoria to see her again, it was buoyed down by the anger that was still threatening to explode inside him. The fates could really be so testing at times. And Oliver was afraid that he might lose this battle. No, he can't afford to lose this battle. He just have to keep fighting it.

[Yassia Dyfrène de Ailantha]

How glorious he looked even in anger! However hard Yassia tried to get this thought out of her mind, it stuck there like a thistle to clothes. Thistle… another memory she didn’t want to dwell upon too long. Let me be the olive tree to your thistle… well, now she would be the thistle to his conscience, forever pricking, forever stinging until he finally admitted her presence and made his peace with it. Peace… was that really all they had come down to? Was peace all she could hope for, a fragile truce for all it was worth? She had hoped for so much more, but then when had her hopes ever been considered by the stars? She had hoped for her father to survive, she had hoped to sway the crown council to let go of that stupid tradition and let her be queen without marrying for now. But no, her hopes were nothing like dust in the wind, and that would never change.

But before self-pity could swallow her up once more, he spoke and anger crowded out all other feelings, tender or not. The nerve of it all! Was he now thinking he could order her around?! Oh, she would show him!
“Oh, and just because you ‘make something clear’, does that mean I have to cower and obey?” she snapped, her voice nearly acid. “YOU are the one playing a game here, Oliver and you don’t even have the decency to tell me the rules. You accuse me of the vilest things and before I get even half the chance to vindicate or even just explain myself, you run off! Does THAT sound fair to your own ears?”

She reached up to run a hand through her hair, a clear sign of her inward confusion, but just in time she remembered her complexe hairdo did not allow such a gesture and let the hand fall to her side again with an annoyed grunt. Just perfect… Why did this all have to be so difficult? The day had not started promising but its end was on a clear way to become a complete disaster! Yassia just didn’t know how to deal with this situation. What had she done wrong? How on earth could she clear this up? Oliver simply had to see sense, and if there was any strength left in her limbs and breath in her lungs, she would MAKE him see! She was Yassia Dyfrène de Ailantha, and no one, not even a man equal in rank could dare to treat her as such!

Looking at him made this all so much harder, but Yassia knew she only had to fish for the unpleasant image of him and Lady Electra in her mind to keep her anger at a simmering state.
“So now”, she challenged him, her eyes flashing, “tell me once again to my face what you accuse me of and THEN give me at least the inkling of a chance to prove you wrong!”

[Oliver Strathmore of Mercia]

Why was he not surprised when she retaliated like that? She threw his words back at him with as much vile and loathing that had been in his voice when he had stopped her earlier. A year ago, they had bantered as well, light and carefree, utterly enjoyable. It was something that Oliver continued to relive even in his dreams and daydreams, not wanting them to end, not wanting to let go of the beautiful memory. But tonight, there was nothing but scorn in their words.

“Oh, and just because you ‘make something clear’, does that mean I have to cower and obey?”

Oliver scoffed. “My apologies, Your Highness. I forget who I was talking to, Princess Yassia Dyfrene de Ailantha. Will you forgive a lowly son of Albion for talking out of turn? Or will you order my head off?” he apologized mockingly, his voice acidic. There was that haughty royal tone in her voice that he had grown quite so familiar with around nobles. Their overwhelming arrogance was exactly the same reason he had shunned their company, and preferred those of the humble villagers instead. How wrong was he to think Yassia to be different. Save for a chosen few, she was just like every other noble or royalty out there. Arrogant, self-important, stuck-up.

She went on to chastise him for leaving her in the Grand Hall. “Unfair? Fine! Add it to my list of grievances. Surely now, you have more than enough reasons to sentence me to the guillotine.” There was no way he was backing down from this. If she thought that throwing his disrespectful actions back to his face would absolve her from her own faults, then she was wrong. Oliver was going to remind her every single minute of every day that they are in each other’s company exactly what she had done to him.

“Tell me once again to my face what you accuse me of and THEN give me at least the inkling of a chance to prove you wrong!”

For a moment there, she was ever the princess that she indeed was. Strong, wilful, no-nonsense. If things hadn’t been so tensed and torturous between them now, he would have admired her courage to stand up to him like that. He would have lauded the strength she mustered to get the answers she needed. Not a lot of woman could do that. And inwardly, he did admire her. She was strong and brave, as she always has been on that day they first met. And Oliver wanted nothing more than to tell her that. But right now, all this bravado was only irritating him to the ends of the earth.

“You are a two-faced harlot! You are a liar who preys on the weaknesses of men! A heartless player who takes joy in the suffering of others!” Oliver venomously spat out. He had not expected to throw those words out, but he was outrageously mad at the tone of her voice and the certainty she was showing that she was in the right. ”Don’t pretend you’re not, Princess. I know you and your kind all too well. You put an end to what Lady Electra and I were doing, because you were envious she was getting more action than you do!”

If she hadn’t angered her enough before, he knew he probably had now, and Oliver squared his shoulders to meet her challenge. Someone had to tell her that her charade was over. “I saw you looking at my brother with that same coyness you looked at me before. You are such a superb actress! And I was such a fool to believe you,” They were all spilling out of him, like water from a broken dam. He was livid, his mind was flaming with rage unlike he had ever felt towards anyone before. Then he locked her eyes with his own, icy, hard, furious. The image of Edmund walking her to her chambers bored into his head, and the picture of them in each other arms inevitably followed. ”Seeing as how you hardly want to let go of him at the dance, I bet you’ve had quite a grand time together earlier. Your turn to tell me this now. Was Edmund good in bed? Did he please you well enough?” He wasn’t shouting. His voice was controlled now, but it was every bit as biting and insulting.

[Yassia Dyfrène de Ailantha]

Oh wasn’t he a master of words?! If Yassia hadn’t been so angry, she would have nearly admired him for it. In a way, though he probably never knew it, he was every bit the courtier, knowing how to speak innocent words with the height of malice, so that no one could nail you down for what you actually said. Tones of voices didn’t count as excuses, you could have ‘misinterpreted’ after all. And yet of course Yassia knew she was not misinterpreting at all. There was so much hatred and contempt in his voice she would have been deaf to ignore it. And it made her heart ache and her whole body wanting to curl up into a ball. Why could he get to her like that, why could he bring her so much misery! That wasn’t right! Even Vortigern with his vile comments had not affected her this much… because she had not been expecting anything else of him!

But she could not allow herself to show how much his words pained her. Carefully she brought up the walls around her heart again she had let crack the minute she saw him. Brick by brick was replaced to shield herself against his attack. And the remaining ones she used to fire back.
”Keep insulting me like that and I will not be the only one that is hurt”, she affirmed his scornful remark with an icy glare. She might not have any authority on this big island, but that did not mean she would let anything happen to her without repercussions. If she could not get to him as princess, she would avenge her pain as a mere woman. That was just as well.

How could they have come down to this? What had happened inside this year to turn almost lovers into deadly enemies? However angry Yassia was,she couldn’t help but think what of it had been her fault. What would have happened had she not confronted Oliver – not even knowing it was him – in that corner? If she had just turned and walked away? Maybe then they would have met out of chance at the banquet and their mutual shock would have not been so much laden with animosity already? Maybe the joy of the reunion would have been enough to crowd out the slight feeling of betrayal?
But then, what’s done was done… There was no way back now and Yassia was by no means willing to shoulder the whole blame!

Yassia bit her lip hard not to shout anything back at his ridiculous mentioning of the guillotine. What did he depict her as? The tyrant that sentenced people to death over inanities?!
”Don’t afflict your barbaric standards on my kingdom”, she hurled at him, though her voice was not loud, just cracking like a whip. “In Ailantha no one gets drowned or burnt because he has a power others are afraid of!” This was the first time she openly showed her contempt for King Uther’s reign and even when the words left her mouth, she knew she had made a fatal mistake. If anyone heard this, she could be arrested for treason. And in the state Oliver was in right now, Yassia did not even trust him to not turn her in.

But every streak of fear that might have been there was completely crowded out by the consternation she felt at the gush of words coming out of Oliver’s mouth. It was not only the words themselves that felt like the impact of a bludgeon or a whip hitting her trembling body, it was also the tone he used.
…a two-faced harlot!
CRACK!
a liar who preys on the weaknesses of men…
CRACK!
A heartless player…
CRACK!
Yassia staggered backwards, her eyes wide in shock, her lips formed into a silent “…no…” How could he think of her like that? What had she ever done to deserve this?

But the worst was yet to come, and slowly ire took over where the shock had left her. She and making eyes at Edmund?! She and… no! It was unthinkable! And yet he voiced the last, impossible words that made her whole body go rigid. Whatever happened between them in the future, she swore to herself she would never, never EVER forgive him these words! Not in a thousand years!
The hot ire turned deadly cold and without even much thinking about it, like in trance, Yassia’s hand felt for one of her throwing knives she had still stuck in her left boot for whatever reason. It might look like her knees could not bear her weight for a second and even though that might partly be true, she rose to her feet with the swiftness of a cat of prey, not even taking much aim as she took the blade between two fingers and hurled it at Oliver.

No coherent thought possessed her mind at this moment but one: making him pay for what he had said. Hurting him as much as he had hurt her, killing him if she must. No one spoke to her like that and got away with it, not because she was a princess, but because she was a woman with pride.

[Oliver Strathmore of Mercia]

”Keep insulting me like that and I will not be the only one that is hurt.”

Was she threatening him now? She earned his insult anyway. After what she had done to him, playing with him, that wasn’t even enough to get his point across. Oliver was much to livid to see anymore reason to this, and every word that came out of Yassia’s mouth was like rubbing salt to his already wounded pride. How dare she accuse him of insulting her when it was her who was abusing him and his men’s kindness. It was her who was having the time of her life making them pawns in her lovely little game of pretend. How convenient and easy the lies flew out of her lips. And to think he had kissed that very same lips!

But heavens those lips had been the sweetest he had ever kissed. Even for over a year now, Oliver could still clearly remember how soft her lips felt against his own, how sweet her kisses her been. Those kisses had kept his dreams alive and burning for her. It truly took all amount of self-control he could muster not to seek her out and relive those wonderful moments again. But no, he had promised her, made a vow before her that he would make straight his path and be more responsible. No matter how much he yearned for her, he knew, as soon as they had parted, that he can never have her.

But now…he should have been happy to see her again, but that hardly was the case anymore. Oliver had dug himself into a hole deeper than he could climb out. He will have to dig himself out of it, and he will do it fighting for his pride.

There she goes being the all mighty princess again. Her words shocked him more than anything, and he felt a quick stab of fear, not for himself, but for her, for voicing his thoughts towards King Uther’s rule. She must have been very enraged to recklessly voice something like that. “Well, you are not in Ailantha! It must have been really dull in your kingdom that you had to cross the seas to play your games in our lands?” He knew that was unfair. He knew nothing about Ailantha to make such slurs, but she was getting to his nerves with all her righteous pretensions.

The impact of his words on her left Oliver rather speechless. The shock in her face was as clear as the night sky. He would have wanted to apologize but he didn’t. He remained standing there as stubborn as he had been, and tried not to show anything but anger from her betrayal on his face. When she had motioned to bend down, Oliver thought she was about to collapse, and he was almost on his feet. But then his eyes caught the glint of something shiny emerge from her boot, and they turned wide at the realization of what she was about to do.

Her dagger suddenly went flying, and Oliver barely caught himself and stumbled back as it came hurling his way, straight to his face. He avoided it just in time as it barely missed his shoulder and went to bury itself against the trunk of the tree behind him. Standing there all stunned and speechless, his head whipped to where the dagger had planted itself on the tree and then back at Yassia. His chest heaved in pent up tension as he realized how narrowly he had missed that deadly throw.

She knew how to throw daggers, quite expertly as well. It was just as she had told him a year ago.

At least that part was true.

“Angry, are we? Did I hit a sore spot?” Still, Oliver wasn’t totally convinced of her innocence to all his accusations. He righted himself up and then rushed to where she was standing, stopping just a mere inches in front of her. He glared back at her, his chin held high, his eyes harboring an impending challenge. ”You want me out of your way, Yassia? Well, take out your knife again! And this time, make sure it finds its mark.”

[Yassia Dyfrène de Ailantha]

“Well, you are not in Ailantha! It must have been really dull in your kingdom that you had to cross the seas to play your games in our lands?”

How could he still convince himself she was playing games?! What else could SHE do than hurling the truth at his face over and over again?! Someone somewhen had said that there was no more powerful a force than the truth. Well, whoever had thought up this phrase had apparently never crossed paths with Prince Oliver de Mercia! Even the truth could not best him, he was as stubborn as a mule and as firmly set in his opinion as a mountain! Only a miracle could make him believe her, and frankly, Yassia had no patience to wait for that. If he did not want to believe her, fine, his loss! She would simply refuse to believe every word he said as well, simple.
“This is NOT a game for me and it never has been!” she snapped, practically throwing icicles at him with her eyes. “I would have been so much happier if I could have stayed in Ailantha, could have lived my life without having to worry about a power-hungry uncle and his sleazebag of a son who was practically itching to drag me off to the bridal bed.” She huffed. “I think we BOTH would have been better off. Blame my father for dying, blame my brother for being killed when I was fourteen, but don’t. blame. me!”

She was panting heavily with the agitation now, partly glad he had not taken her up on her obvious treasonous talk, partly livid that he once again had managed to insult her, call her a player and whatnot without giving her the slightest chance to vindicate herself. Who did he think he was, really?! Had she possessed any power apart from that she had as a private person, oh she would have made him shut up long since! In Ailantha no one would even dream of talking to the future queen like that, but sadly she was not on her own territory. As wasn’t he, so she could hurl back at him all she wanted without having to fear to commit High Treason. And she would not spare him ONE bit! He had brought this on himself!

The minute the shining blade vanished from her fingers, Yassia felt like her knees would not bear her any longer. What had she done?! The split seconds where she had to helplessly watch the knife forming a deadly arch through the air, aiming straight at Oliver felt like the worst seconds of her entire life. She had not wanted to kill him… no, of course not! Even though a large part of her mind was still raging, she prayed he would be swift enough to dodge the flying blade.
But Oliver, the trained fighter and huntsman he was, of course managed to avoid the knife, and the shock so evidently planted on his face, was almost enough reconciliation for Yassia. Only almost, however. The rage returned with full force as he found his voice again.
For a moment they were so close that if Yassia had wanted, she could have reached out and touched him. Only that nothing was further from her mind right now; if she felt the desire to touch him, then only to hurt him!

”You want me out of your way, Yassia? Well, take out your knife again! And this time, make sure it finds its mark.”
A moment ago, the thought of him dying by her hand had been impossible to bear, horrible beyond belief, but now she wasn’t so sure of that anymore. She was trembling with surpressed rage all over, and if she had had another weapon on her, she would not hesitated to stab him right here and there. It was his luck the knife in the tree trunk was still a little out of reach, even if he tempted her to take it and finish this once and for all.
But slowly, Yassia felt something else crowd out the livid anger: hollowness, emptiness. This was what they had come down to. Both had ruined it forever. The thought made her want to die on the spot, but before the anger could leave her, Yassia reared up one last time, contempt and even hatred clear in her voice.

”I have a right mind to kill you now, oathbreaker!” she hurled at him. “Do you remember the oath you once swore to me? To which I bore witness?” Even though it was a year back, Yassia still knew much of his words by heart, and so she cited angrily: “’I, Oliver Leofric, swore to be more responsible in my ways, in every word I say and in every action I take…’ You remember?! Now do you think THAT is responsible? Everything you said to me?! Everything you DID to me?! Rot in the lowest parts of hell, Oliver de Mercia, I am through with you once and for all!”
Brusquely she turned so he would not see the tears that had started to brim in her eyes and then, without even caring to gather her knife from the trunk, stormed off back towards the castle.

[Oliver Strathmore of Mercia]

Keenly, Oliver knew the truth was staring him in the face. It was so close to poking him with a stick or knocking him with a bludgeon to drill some sense into his head. But no, he had remained stubborn. He had continued to close his mind, all in the name of the pain that was piercing through his heart at the thought of having been played with. Never had he felt so intensely towards anyone before, and to have it thrown back at his face like it was a game was like a blow not only to his ego but to his heart as well. Was this a lesson for all his shenanigans with women before? Was this how it was really supposed to feel like?

Talking about Ailantha did elicit quite a reaction from her. While he looked all angry and uncaring about her story, the thought about her escaping from her ‘power-hungry uncle and his sleazebag of a son’ made him regret his words. Had it really been that difficult for her? Had she really gone through such horror in the hands of her own relatives? Piece by piece, he felt the defenses that he had put up start to chip away. Anybody as exasperated and angry as her couldn’t have easily lied about that. Was he really a good actress as he thought he was, or was her story and suffering really all true? At fourteen, she had already lost and suffered so much. At fourteen, Oliver had been gallivanting around, enjoying his royal status and openly defying his own father for the heck of it. Had he really been that insensitive?

But just as the dagger had started to knock some semblance of sanity back to him, all he could see in Yassia’s eyes were nothing but hatred and rage unlike any other. And it pained him to know it was his doing or undoing that had made her feel like that towards him now. He had pushed her too far to be able to pull her back from it. He had riled her up, accusing her with the most despicable of words, refusing to believe her even when she was trying so hard to make him see. He had remained blind, stubborn…selfish. Who was the arrogant one now?

And if that wasn’t enough, she brought back up the oath he had made for her, with her, an oath that had been borne out of that incident in the woods. It may be just a misguided arrow, but it had affected him the way she did to make him promise like that. He felt shame gnaw from inside him as she spoke word for word his oath. She remembered. Every bit of the oath. She remembered. And he had forgotten. He had allowed his anger to cloud his judgment towards her. He had been so blinded by the hate and thought of betrayal--of jealousy--to see reason. And it was too late to salvage anything back now. Too late.

”Rot in the lowest parts of hell, Oliver de Mercia, I am through with you once and for all!”

It hadn’t been a real relationship whatever it was that he and Yassia once shared. But why did this feel like a real break-up? Hearing the intensity and the fury in her words tore his heart to shreds. No, it felt like she had pulled his heart out, threw it to the ground, and stomped on it a million times over. It hurt like hell. “Yassia…” he had managed to whisper, hoping to save whatever was still left. But the sight of her turning away and storming off told Oliver he was past redemption now. If he thought he had lost her before to good memories, now he had truly lost all of her and whatever beautiful they had once shared to hate.

He watched in stunned silence as her back disappeared into the shadows. It felt like she had disappeared out of his life as well, never to come back. And it was making it so hard for him to breathe. It was like his life force was being sucked out of him, and he might as well die here now. He must have been standing there for what seemed like hours until he felt the chill of the evening air slice through him. There was nothing but darkness now where Yassia had once been. She was gone. And it was all his fault.

Oliver remembered her dagger, the one she had skillfully thrown at him in her rage. Like a wounded horse, he turned and walked towards the tree, and pulled the dainty knife out. He held it in his hands with such care and reverence as if it was the most precious and fragile thing in the world, as if it was her. ”Yassia…” he whispered with the piercing sadness that sliced through the cold night. But no one heard him. Nothing but the wind.