Half the World Away (Yassia, Caitrin, Griff)

[Oliver Strathmore of Mercia]

Under normal circumstances, the trip back home to Mercia would have been something that Prince Oliver always looked forward to. No matter how far he had traveled, either to visit other kingdoms or to go on a hunting expedition, the journey back home will always be just as exciting. More than anything, the second prince of Mercia had learned to value life at home. For one, his mother was there, always ready with a hug and a smile to welcome him home. Then there was always great food from the castle kitchens. And of course, no matter how exhilarating it was to be sleeping on a forest floor on any random night out, nothing beats the comforts of his own bed.

But today, while he couldn’t keep the excitement at bay to finally be seeing his mother again, it was also full of apprehension, an anxiety that was only caused by one thing, and one thing alone. Princess Yassia Dyfrene de Ailantha. Oliver had quite a history with the princess. From their fateful meeting in the Forests of Balor a year ago to their heated “fight” two nights back, Oliver and Yassia had become almost-lovers to outright foes in a span of two meetings. After his brother the Crown Prince Edmund invited Yassia to travel with them to Mercia, Oliver knew that the journey was going to be an interesting one. He was both dreading and looking forward to it.

The only consolation to this travel was the presence of his good friend Caitrin de Archer and her intended Griff Aubert. Oliver had taken leave to invite them as well, offering to hold a pre-wedding party of sorts in honor of the betrothed couple. Caitrin after all was a true-blue Mercian despite having spent most of her adult life in Camelot where she met Griff. She was also his best friend’s younger sister, which practically makes her his own sister. Oliver was looking forward to making a friend out of Griff. He had planned to celebrate the man who made his “little sister” happy and content to settle down.

But first things first, there were some things he needed to take care of before they leave for Mercia. At the night of Arthur’s birthday celebration and installation as interim King of Camelot, Oliver had gotten into quite a fit with Yassia. A year ago, the two had met under quite interesting circumstances. He had thought her to be a nomad, she had thought him to be an ordinary huntsman. And well, they had played the sweetest music Oliver had ever heard in his entire life. It wasn’t until two nights ago that they met again and found out about each other’s true identities. And quite unfortunately, Oliver hadn’t been amused to know she was actually a princess. He had thought she had played him, and had lashed out at her. She retaliated by throwing a dagger right at his face, which Oliver of course skillfully avoided. She had left in a huff, and Oliver belatedly realized what an idiot he had been.

Today, just as the sun was starting to peek out from behind the distant mountains, Oliver knew he had to at least try and talk to Yassia. Not necessarily to settle things between them, because honestly, he was still feeling rather betrayed, but to at least come to a truce of sorts. Hopefully, it will help make the week-long travel to Mercia more bearable for both of them and for everybody else. And now that Edmund had practically claimed Yassia for his own, Oliver couldn’t risk letting everyone know about his past with her. Edmund will hate him for keeping something like that from him, and Oliver can’t have that. And besides, Yassia was better off with his brother. She can become Queen of Mercia if she wants to.

All dressed ready for the journey, Oliver found himself standing outside the door to her chambers in the castle. It took him a while to get there having asked the servants where it was. And now that he was here, he wasn’t quite sure if he had the courage to knock and face her again. Surely, she would still be angry at him even after two days now. He had called her a “harlot” after all. He himself had gotten quite an introspection of sorts. He had spent the entire day yesterday hunting in the woods and it had somehow cleared his head. He hoped Yassia would be calmer now. He couldn’t risk getting another dagger thrown his way.

The dagger. Her dagger. His hand moved to his hip where he felt the knife. The dagger had lodged itself against a tree when Oliver narrowly avoided her throw. He was hoping to make it his excuse to come here today, to return it to her. He took it out and readied it, then knocked on her door. He heaved a sigh waiting for an answer. Part of him wished she wasn’t inside, that she was probably strolling outside or breaking her fast at the dining hall. That way he could spare himself this awkward meeting.



When: Two days after Arthur’s interim Coronation & Birthday Party
Tagged: Yassia Dyfrene de Ailantha, Caitrin de Archer, and Griff Aubert
Note: This is a “travel” thread that starts in the Castle of Camelot and ends in Mercia. Thought this is the best place to post this thread. The “in-between” place.

[Yassia Dyfrène de Ailantha]

Another more or less sleepness night. Another night where she had fought with the demons that tried to lure her astray, that tore at her heart and whispered to her that she had lost. That the stars were no longer shining down upon her, that she was forevermore without their guidance. And yet another night of fighting a hopeless war against the tears that always came when her mind conjured a very distinctive, beautiful face, distorted into a mask of contempt and anger, its mouth speaking the vilest words to insult her.
Yassia was sure of it now, she had reached the bottom line. There could be nothing worse to come. Not one of her hopeless and dangerous encounters throughout her journey had ever seemed quite as dark. She had always felt the strength inside her to go on, that spark that could errupt into a wild flame, fuelling her will. She had been the ‘invictus’, bending but not breaking under the bludgeonings of chance. Not anymore. This had been one blow too many, and aimed straight at her heart.

But she could not let the world see this. For everyone, and especially for him, this had to remain her secret. She would undisclose her heart and smile through the pain. And if Oliver was not willing to talk it through, to at least reach a base of mutual understanding and truce, then she would not be the one running after him. Without even wanting it, she had been roaming around Camelot all day, trying to catch Oliver alone, putting the promise she had given to Cait into action. Only to find out that once again Oliver had taken the easy way out and was away on a hunting trip for the whole day. Well, he surely wanted to avoid her, didn’t he. After all, who wanted to be seen with a harlot and a heartless player? She was a disgrace to her royal status, was she not?
So, it was not her fault if they still were like cat and dog and not likely to ever exchange reasonable words again. It would not be her fault, if the journey to Mercia would be the living hell for them both…

That brought another unpleasant thought to her mind, which would normally have filled her with joy: The journey. She needed to get ready! All the little things she possessed had already been packed up yesterday, and now it was just a matter of getting dressed and ready to move down into the courtyard where Caitrin and Griff were sure to be waiting.
Gladly the maidservant she had been given was a girl that did not ask many questions, even though she must see the dark shades and red rimming of Yassia’s eyes. She even helped her mistress applying a tincture made of elderflowers to the bags under her eyes. That, Yassia knew, would ease the swelling and cool down the skin. Normally she used that tincture rarely, just for vanity, but now she really needed it. Her appearance most likely would still tell tales to an observant eye.

When she had finished getting ready, Yassia dismissed the servant and sat back down on her bed, not finding the strength to go down yet. She would want a few more moments of peace… or whatever this solitary state was. Apparently having too much time to think did not help either. Had anyone ever felt so torn? Yassia had a hard time imagining that, it was slowly driving her insane, this impossible situation! And slowly, beside all the effort she had made, tears started to trickle down her face again…
Just then she heard a knock on the door which made her jump slightly. Who would be coming?! She was not ready yet! She could not face anyone like this, in tears, cheeks probably red again from the slight salty acid of her tears!
”Who is it?!” she called out warily, wiping her cheeks frantically with both hands.

[Oliver Strathmore of Mercia]

”Who is it?!”

Oliver stiffened, his heart racing with nervous excitement, as he heard the all too familiar voice on the other side of the door. Yassia was inside. And she seemed to be all by herself judging from the fact that no one else had opened the door for her. She must probably be occupied to have not opened it herself right away. Oliver took a step back, thinking about turning around and just forgetting about talking to her.

But then he knew he owe it to her to at least make their journey later somehow bearable by trying to smooth out things with them. Edmund was already all wound up as he is. Yesterday, his brother had told him that after Oliver had danced with Yassia, she had been in a rather distraught and distracted state. Edmund told Oliver how he had gone to get Yassia and him some drinks only to find her nowhere when when he returned to their spot. Oliver had tried his best to remain as nonchalant and uninterested as he possibly then. He knew all too well where Yassia had disappeared too. And Edmund must not know.

Torn between answering Yassia’s question and not, Oliver just stood there ruminating over his situation. If he answer, Yassia might decide to completely ignore him. If he doesn’t answer, Yassia might just think there was nobody there and also ignore the door. Now that he was resolved to finally talk to her, he can’t have her disregard him. She may push him away, but Oliver was at least determined to see this “truce” through. If anything, Yassia is a princess, she knew and understood what it meant to enter into a truce.

So he knocked again. And waited without a word.

[Yassia Dyfrène de Ailantha]

Oddly enough no one answered. That was peculiar indeed, and also annoying, Yassia thought. If it had been Caitrin, she would have announced herself about now, and if it was Alice, her handmaid, she would have entered after knocking, without waiting for a reply. That was the custom for servants after all, if they were not told otherwise, they would enter at all time. But why would Alice come back after all? Had she forgotten something?
Oh, why was nothing working out to her favor today? This day hadn’t even started yet and already Yassia felt like it couldn’t get worse. She dreaded the thought of having to spend days close to Oliver, feeling his hateful gaze on her and being torn apart by mixed feelings towards him.

Sighing exasperatedly, Yassia called once again: “Who is it?!”, but she had already risen to her feet and walked towards the door, praying to the stars it would not be anyone she felt embarrassed towards being seen in this state. But then, the stars did not seem to care for her lately, now did they? She had thought them to be with her on the rest of her journey ever since they had been kind enough to let her meet Oliver. Kind? Now she knew how cruel they really had been! They had given her a memory to live with that was thoroughly false, had thrown two royal pawns together on a chessboard with no knowledge on how to deal with the situation they found themselves in. Either had thought the other to be common and thus had given up on what might have been wonderful, because in their eyes it could not be. And now, as the truth was known, they had accused each other of falsehood, of treachery, until the tiny spark of tenderness between them had been thoroughly quenched.

”You know, next time you knock, you can just come in, Alice”, she growled a little annoyed, now believing it to be her handmaid, and opened the door. “And you did it before, so why—“
But then her breath caught in her throat as she found herself eye to eye with someone else. Someone she had not expected at all – and who was actually the worst person to see her in this sorry state, maybe not obvious, but still visible to a keen eye. And Oliver had the eyes of a hunter.
Trust her treacherous heart to do a giddy leap at the sheer sight of him, trust her stomach to seemingly drop to the floor! Why could her body not accept what her mind already knew? That everything was said and done between them?! That she was no longer allowed to dream?

”You…”
It was no accusation, not even an annoyed and exasperated exclaim. Rather a shocked and surprised whisper, as Yassia had no idea what to do next. Her left hand tightened around the lock on the door, ready to shut it into his face, but as of yet, she did not move.

[Oliver Strathmore of Mercia]

Oliver was now closely inspecting the dagger in his hand. And it brought to mind the memories they've shared a year or so ago once again. How he had told him about her brother teaching her how to throw a dagger. How he had teased her about it. How she had bantered back. It was all in jolly good fun. So much unlike the bantering that had happened two nights ago. Although both occasions were full of heightened emotions, they were still completely different from each other. One was of joy, the other of anger. Despite that, Oliver knew he can never really have enough of Yassia. Whether he was kissing her or ducking her daggers, he couldn't help but always think about her. All his thoughts were filled with images of her and their time together. No matter how he tried, he can never shake them off so easily.

His head lifted in attention when she heard her groveling on the other side. Oliver suppressed a small chuckle at the thought of Yassia all in a huff thinking it might be a servant knocking on her door. He imagined her cheeks all flushed, her eyes turning into slits, her lips pursed together in annoyance. Even in that picture, he still found her irresistibly beautiful, and would have loved to be the one to turn her annoyed face into a smiling one...with a kiss or two.

But then of course that was wishful thinking.

"You..."

How his heart leapt with joy inside his chest at the lovely sight standing there before him. But as soon as it did though, it halted mid-air as Oliver saw the look on her face. The small smile immediately turned into a worried frown. Had she been crying? Her eyes were still slightly puffed and swollen despite the efforts she did to conceal them. To others it may not be that obvious, but Oliver only knew her too well to not see it, knew how this face looking at him now was nowhere near the face that had been etched in his mind since they first met.

Oliver moved a step forward and his hand instinctively held the door open just in case she might slam it on his face once she regains her composure from the shock and surprise of seeing him. He was actually hoping for the best but expecting the worse, just to be sure. "I came to return your dagger," he started, his voice low and humble. He took one long and heavy breath while trying to find the right words to say next. Right now, all Oliver really wanted was to take her in his arms and comfort her, to tell her that everything would be okay, and that he would do everything to see her lovely smile once again. But that wouldn't be true. Oliver knew he had to keep his distance from here on out. "Yassia, we need to talk. Please...don't turn me away," he implored her, his voice carrying a pleading tone as his eyes did, too.

[Yassia Dyfrène de Ailantha]

Why did he have to be here now?! Why did he have to see her in this state?! Yassia didn’t want him to see how much their conversation two night before still got to her. She didn’t want to give him that satisfaction. But the stars were not through with her as it seemed, they probably thought she deserved a little more misery for whatever crime she had committed. What crime might that be? Was it because she had defied the path they had set up for her, the one where she would have been forced into a loveless marriage, slowly but surely being overpowered by the team that was her uncle and her cousin? Had that been her path? Had it been so wrong to wish for happiness?
Apparently yes, because now the stars were clearly throwing the one bit of happiness she had had in her face, destroying it before her eyes. She had been happy that one night in Oliver’s arms. She had been happy with the memory of their encounter. And now even that was tainted.
It must be that way, her path was not happiness. She should finally give up and go home, succumb to their will, before her defiance got her killed.

The weight of these thoughts made it so much harder to stand upright and face him who had been once the source of all her dreams. For Oliver, she had felt tempted to give up her birthright and title and stay with him as a common nomad – something all the pressure of her relatives could not make her do.
But she had to appear strong. If she now forewent her pride as well, she could give up herself alltogether.
"I came to return your dagger,"
The tone of his soft voice, so different from the one he had used on her for the last two days, almost made the shell she had hidden in crack. This was the Oliver she remembered. And yet it was not him.
The dagger? It took her a few seconds to remember she had left the dagger outside sticking in the tree. The dagger she had cast at him. The dagger that had nearly killed him… why would he want to give it back?

"Yassia, we need to talk. Please...don't turn me away,"
Talk? TALK?! What was there to talk about?! And SHE turning HIM away? What was he thinking, really?! Had he even been there when he had hurled all those insults at her? Even to think of what he had called her made her want to coil up in shame.
A tiny hopeful voice could not help but speak up in her head, wanting to tell her that everything was going to be okay, that they could still find a way back to where they once had been. But it could not be. Before her heart could melt at his soft and pleading words, she rebuilt the wall around it and closed off her soul. This battle was lost forever, and there wasn’t even one person to blame. They both had brought it upon each other.

”Are you not done with your insults yet?” she asked, her voice composed, her back rigid. “Continue if you must, what else am I apart from a heartless player, a liar and a harlot? Have you overlooked something?”
He hand was still cramping tightly around the lock, so tightly her knuckles showed white. But he had forced himself inside the doorframe now, she could not shut it any more. She apparently needed to sit this out. But how much more could she take from him?

[Oliver Strathmore of Mercia]

It was obvious that she wasn't the least bit amused at the sight of him, and Oliver couldn't blame her. After what he had put her through, it'd be a miracle if she doesn't throw a dagger his way again. He knew he had messed up big time by reacting too strongly to her revelation. It had been uncontrollable. In his dreams, he had put Yassia on a pedestal where nobody and nothing could touch and disturb. She was his pretty little nomad and she will live forever in his dreams where they could be together forever. To have that dream shattered just like that was too much for him to take in at that time. He had not been prepared for the what reality had brought him. It caught him unaware and he had immediately shut himself up and lashed out at anybody who dared try and get through him. That was what he had done to Yassia, the princess. He had put up walls and relentlessly attacked her until she would surrender.

And it seems, she did surrender. He had been victorious in that part. After throwing that dagger, she had turned and stopped fighting. He should have felt happy, right? He should have rejoiced? But the loss only broke his heart to a million more pieces. He doubt it'd ever be put together again. Looking at her now, there was nothing but contempt on her face as he tried to start negotiating his truce. Negotiate. How mediocre that sounded. Was that all this was going to be now? A negotiation? A compromise to keep the peace between them so the rest of the world would not have to know? But how Oliver wanted the world to know. If only he could turn back time, if only.

"Continue if you must, what else am I apart from a heartless player, a liar and a harlot? Have you overlooked something?"

Oliver winced at the sharp biting tone of her voice despite the admirable composure that she exuded. It not only sliced through his skin, but it also pierced through his heart, his already broken and wounded heart. And it hadn't even her fault to begin with. He had brought this upon himself, and he must do his best to fix it...or at least to keep it on the down low from everybody else.

"I was out of line. I shouldn't have said those words to you," Oliver said gently, looking as straight as he possibly could into her eyes, feeling remorse. He knew he was at fault, and yet somehow he couldn't apologize just yet. Part of him was still a little too proud. She, too, was partly to blame as well.

When he could hold her gaze no more, he cast his eyes down to the dagger that was still in his hands, and he absentmindedly caressed the hilt and the blade as he searched for more words to say. Obviously, this was awkward, and to stand there outside her door was risking being seen by Edmund. He had thought to ask her to let him into her chambers so they could talk properly, but he knew she probably would rather have him taken away by the guards. But still it wouldn't hurt to try. "Please let me in. I promise I will not take long."

[Yassia Dyfrène de Ailantha]

It was as if all her lessons of countenance she had been given while growing up, had been pointing at just this very moment. Never before had it felt so hard not to break down, show her emotions openly. Yassia wanted to cry again, to curl up into a ball, or scream her anger and desperation out at him, cursing him for what he put her through and at the same time begging him to love her again. But she could not.
Not even Vortigern had been able to get her this far, because he had not possessed her heart. She had never felt anything but contempt for him and it had made her strong. But to Oliver she had opened her heart, had allowed him to get under her skin, and for this she now had to pay the price. Only he could now also tear her apart from inside out.

And yet, she could not keep her eyes from straying towards him yet again, examining him from under lowered eyelids, searching for hints of the man she had known. His shell was still there, but could he truly have so thoroughly changed? All she had left of him was a legacy of memories, one she had cherished like nothing else, and suddenly could not find a way anymore to relate it to reality. There was nothing but silence around the man she once had thought to love. Had that truly been love? This wonderful feeling that now brought her nothing but misery? Caitrin had said he had acted out of jealousy when he had lashed out at her like that, but slowly Yassia wasn’t so sure anymore. How could he be jealous for something he didn’t even want? It must be how she had feared even when first meeting him, after he had told her about this gypsy girl he fell in love with. She had feared he would only see her as a substitute, as a newly enlived memory, and now, as soon as he had found out she was nothing like his old love, not a free spirited nomad, but a princess with a troubled past, he had drawn back instantly. He had never wanted her… he had just wanted the freedom he thought she represented…

"I was out of line. I shouldn't have said those words to you,"
These words, said so gently – oh how she wished she could believe them! That she could allow herself to trust that he was genuine, that he really felt remorse for his actions. But then, he had not apologized, not in the distinct words. And Yassia had been too wounded by what he had called her to accept anything that was not a distinct apology. And maybe not even that would do. Every time she heard his voice cracking like a whip in her head, she wanted to cringe and cover her ears. She had once said her heart had always ‘only’ been stabbed, not broken. But this time the gash was so vast she still felt it bleeding.
”You of all people should know how it is with words”, she commented drily, looking into his eyes briefly, though it hurt. “Like arrors they can never be taken back once released.”

He wanted to come inside?! For a moment, Yassia’s eyes widened in surprise and slight panic. Oh yes, he probably would not take long, what was there to say after all? But still… could she allow him in? Did he deserve any more of her time after what he had done? And yet… she could not shift the blame all on in, that was not justified. And they would somehow have to live with each other for the following days, even though Yassia had no idea where to take the strength from for that. Maybe this would be a good beginning, a practice run? If she – or he for that matter – could survive a few minutes alone in the same room, maybe they would both make it to Mercia in one piece?
Casting her eyes down, she retreated behind the door, opening it for him and making a vague gesture, allowing him to step through.

[Oliver Strathmore of Mercia]

Her words hit him again, to the core, to the gut...to his heart where it hurts the most. She may not realize it, but Yassia knows too well to strike him where it stings. She knew his weakness. She was his weakness. If only he could tell her that, if only he could stop holding himself back and just tell her everything that he was feeling right now. But he was Prince Oliver. He had made a vow a year ago to a nomad woman, to her, that he would be mature and responsible. It may not hold water to anyone, but it meant a lot to him. And here he was. He was being responsible. He was fixing things up as much as he could, and keep his own emotions in check. Edmund had staked his claim on Yassia. And Oliver was going to respect that, the dutiful second Prince that he is. Telling Yassia his feelings would only make matters worse. And besides, what use would there be to it? After he had destroyed everything between them, after he had thrown their past out of the window, what good is there bringing it up, putting them back together? He was sure Yassia had thrown her own memories of him out of the window as well.

Oliver let out a small relieved breath when Yassia had stepped back and opened the door for him. He didn't know he had been holding his breath waiting for her answer to his small plea. Without pause, he stepped inside her room just in case she might change her mind. Now standing there, he knew he should have taken advantage of the opportunity to survey her quarters, to examine her dwelling place here in Camelot, and glean more about herself from it. But he had eyes for nothing and nobody else but her. His attention was riveted to the lady standing there all rigid and seemingly composed...all regal and still heart-achingly beautiful.

"I understand how my words have pained you. I take them back if I could, but you're right, the damage has already been done." Oliver noted her reference to arrows and the significance it held for both of them. His arrow had wounded her on that fateful hunting trip, and it had been the start of everything beautiful in his life. Turns out now, the arrows had taken on a totally different and painful meaning.

The tension inside the room was suffocating him. He didn't like one bit of this "talk." All he wanted right now was to take her in his arms, kiss her, and just forget the world again. But he couldn't. He wouldn't. He needed to get his message across to smooth things out for their benefit and the benefit of others around them. He had already acknowledged that he had been wrong in lashing out at her, it was time to tell her about his brother.

"Edmund must not know. Nobody, but my friends, knows about our meeting in the Forest of Balor. And even they have been sworn to secrecy," he said squaring his shoulders this time, and being all diplomatic and business-like about it. There was no other way to say it but bluntly, straightforward. This had to be done. For the good of his brother, the Crown Prince. For the good of the kingdom of Mercia. "He adores you. It was a mistake for you to leave him during the dance to seek me out. Please don't do anything of the sort again. For your own good." He wasn't sure if Yassia would listen to him, but at least he had warned her. He had done his part even though it tore him up inside. He had done his duty as a son, brother, and prince of Mercia. He had taken responsibility as he had promised her he would.

[Yassia Dyfrène de Ailantha]

How different this conversation was from the other ones they had had! The first one had started out of necissity, had turned teasing first and then passionate. The second one had be full of aggression, but had not been any less passionate. This one however… it was anything but passionate, it felt wooden, forced, anemic even. It didn’t feel like two people with beating hearts were talking to each other, it felt as if one of them or both had died. Though in fact, something HAD died: whatever had been between them had thoroughly been killed yesterday, and all that was left was awkwardness. This was nothing but a typical courtier conversation. And Yassia had never felt so unhappy in what she had grown up to do. This should not be the way to talk. Not with him. He had been her escape from this kind of life, but that was gone as well.
Prince Oliver and Princess Yassia. It had been more of a love story when they hadn’t known who they were. Everything looked perfect now from the outside. Both were on the same level. And yet it was all wrong.

Yassia would have liked to give a snort at his words. What?! Because the damage was already done, he did not even deem it necessary to apologize? As if that would not change anything?! It would change a great deal! But maybe that was just him being polite and nothing else.It could well be he didn’t even regret what he had said, and still thought it. He might have felt out of line – uncourteous – to actually voice them, but that still didn’t mean he would not think them as true.
And so, when you looked at it like that, there really was no use in apologizing if he didn’t feel it. At least he was honest like that. Did she really deserve to be viewed as that? Had she truly played so much with his heart without even wanting it? She had once made a vow to him that she would find the person who hurt him that much and take revenge on his behalf. Seemed like she had now to punish herself.

There was too much tension between them to make this encounter comfortable. Though, was it truly tension? Wasn’t it more like a big, still crumbling abyss between their feet and wasn’t it that nothingness that made them both feel like they were thoroughly out of place? Though, did Oliver really feel that way? Maybe he was completely fine with the current situation? His words almost proved her right.
"Edmund must not know. Nobody, but my friends, knows about our meeting in the Forest of Balor. And even they have been sworn to secrecy,"
Why he was so intent on not letting his brother know about their ‘history’ was beyond her, but Yassia guessed it was a reputation thing. She would have to watch out herself. A respectable princess did not kiss random people in the forest at night.
”Of course”, she replied rather stiffly, taking a deep, calming breath. She was a little late not telling anybody, but at least Caitrin would disclose this in her heart. “I am surely not going to tell it to the town criers. After all, we are grown up people, are we not?” Oh yes… far too grown up, stiff and responsible.

Yassia furrowed her brows as Oliver practically monished her for leaving Edmund alone. That obviously busted Caitrin’s jealousy theory. She would not be pleased about it. And it also chased away the last inkling of hope she might have had for him and her. What Oliver said truly left not any hope. But she could not show how much this revelation striked her down. Come on, Yassia, remember what you’ve been told! A tear is only water, a sigh is only air… she would seal her heart and bury her dreams. She could do that. She was not the first woman having to, and she won’t be the last one.
”Well, I don’t quite know what Edmund has to do with any of this, but I shall apologize to him”, she complied. “Though I also must tell you I don’t like being told what to do. And like to decide for myself what is for my own good.”
He was talking rather cryptically, was he not? But then, nothing but a whiff of a hunch came over her…. was he talking about possible help she could be given from the Crown Prince? It would be too good to be true!

[Oliver Strathmore of Mercia]

Oliver wanted nothing more than to get this hopeless conversation over and done with. Not because he didn't want to anymore, but because he couldn't bear to look at her like this. She was all so calm and composed, and yet so tensed, so distant. Right now, she was nothing like the woman he had met before. She was nothing like the woman who had succumbed to his kisses, melted in his arms, and just surrendered herself to him. And it hurt him to the core to know it was him who caused all this. It was him who pushed her away. It was all his fault. It was all his doing.

But there was no turning back now.

"I appreciate your understanding, princess," he replied just as stiffly back. Perhaps it was better this way. This responsible and business-like way of talking to her, dealing with her was obviously better than lashing out at her. Or so Oliver thought it was. At least this way, their emotions were totally not in play. Their emotions were all pushed down, buried way below to even be given the time of day. Yes, Oliver told himself, it was better this way. No emotions. Nothing.

”Well, I don’t quite know what Edmund has to do with any of this, but I shall apologize to him.”

But who was he fooling really? He knew only too well that no matter how hard he tried, his heart is just one big traitor. No matter how hard he tried to rein it in and lock it all up in a cage, slivers of hurt and pain would always manage to slip through the cracks. If only he could take her away. Away from everything. Away from everyone. Away from Edmund. If only.

"Did you not hear what I just said? My brother, the Crown Prince of Mercia, likes you. One word from you, Princess, and he'll come running to your door in an instant," Oliver said hoping Yassia hadn't noticed the irritated edge in the tone of his voice. He didn’t like it that he had to repeat himself, because he didn’t like what he was repeating. He hated the thought of Yassia speaking to Edmund to apologize. He hated the fact that Edmund was very much smitten at Yassia that he would easily forgive her in the blink of an eye. He hated the idea of Edmund going all crazy even just at the mention of her name. He hated the thought of seeing them together again. And the hate was so strong inside that Oliver had to fiercely grip the hilt of the dagger in his hand to try and regain control. He knew exactly what this feeling was, and he knew he couldn't allow it. He can't be jealous. He can never be jealous of Edmund and Yassia.

"Do what you think you must do, Princess, but I sincerely hope you do the right thing this time...and choose Edmund." Did he really just tell her to forget him? To forget everything that had happened between them? If it hadn’t been so idiotic of him to insult her that night, this right here was definitely madness. But then again, it had to be done. Even though Oliver knew he will always remember all the beautiful and wonderful things that they once shared, Yassia must forget about them. Yassia had to think that it was all over between them now, so Edmund would be able to take his place. Yassia deserved Edmund. She needed Edmund. Not Oliver. "If you make him happy, he just might give you whatever it is that you wish for." Yes, Edmund was indeed in the position to grant any princess whatever it is that they want and dream of. All the jewels in the world. The love of a doting and devoted husband. A kingdom. They all want that, don’t they?

[Yassia Dyfrène de Ailantha]

"I appreciate your understanding, princess,"
So, it was even ‘princess’ now, not even Yassia anymore? Oh by all the stars, this hurt so much! They were both talking like they were chewing nails, and it also felt like it! Like the words she said were not her own, like she was drinking poison with every untrue word that left her mouth. And every word HE said was a jab to her heart. They might not lash out at each other anymore, but what they did now was even more excrutiating. It felt like being torn apart from the inside, limb by limb, but slowly, to make it even more painful. How had she ever thought to leave this chamber alive after this conversation was through? How could she have been so stupid, thinking only physical violence would be dangerous to them? This… this felt so WRONG she couldn’t even breathe. She was about to suffocate from the inside, and no one would be able to save her this time. Because the only one able to save her was turning away from her now, for all time to come.

”I do have a name, you know”, she muttered, but no anger was flaming up in her eyes like it normally would have had. She simply didn’t have the strength to bother anymore, she was being hollowed out. “Or would that be too informal, using it even if we’re alone in the same room, Oliver?!” she asked, pointedly, but in fact she would do it just to speak his name for maybe one last time, feel it’s now bittersweet taste on her tongue. Maybe he was right… maybe their names held too many personal, informal memories. At least for her, his name would always be linked with the taste of his lips. And the fire she had seen burning in his eyes… the sound of his beating heart… oh she had to stop! Why was she tearing her heart apart further?!
And yet… “if no one should know what we’ve been through, then acting too formal could arouse suspicion as well”, she commented, trying to be all business-like.

Yassia blinked at Oliver’s totally unexpected words about his brother. Edmund liked her? Well, the liking had been obvious, but was her seriously hinting at more?! Had she been so blind? No… he must be mistaken. And even if so, Yassia had no intentions to encourage Edmund further. He might be a better man than his brother, but… there was nothing she felt for him. And anyway, he was a crown prince, there could be nothing serious considered anyway. Firmly, Yassia put it out of her mind.
”Well, I do not strive to be adored or run after”, she stated with a shrug. At least not by anyone but you… “I have other concerns on my mind.”

"Do what you think you must do, Princess, but I sincerely hope you do the right thing this time...and choose Edmund."
This time Yassia could not help a gasp and opened her eyes wide. What was Oliver suggesting?! Had she been able to cast aside his words and the direction they were taking just a minute ago, now it was so blatantly staring her into the face she could not help but to acknowledge them, however disbelieving.
”Choose him?!” she echoed, shaking her head. “I don’t think I can CHOOSE in this matter, and the only thing I want is help for my people. That they can shake off the rule of my uncle who has undoubtedly taken on by now, that they can finally live in peace again, without having to fear a war might be looming over their innocent heads any day. All I wish for is that Ailantha is in the right hands!”
In her hands to be precise, but that was so self-evident for Yassia, she didn’t even deem it necessary to point it out. She had maybe not been born to be queen, but she would be if she got the help she needed. It wasn’t even much, just a reminder that Yassia was not alone, that she had powerful hands aiding her.

[Oliver Strathmore of Mercia]

"I do have a name, you know."

And what a beautiful name it was indeed. Had he not basked in the tender feeling her name had brought him once before? Had he not whispered it with all his heart when they kissed? Had he not called it out perhaps a million times over in his sleep and in his dreams? Yassia Remei. No name had ever sounded so sweet to him. Everything beautiful in his world was contained in that one sweet name, in that one sweet woman who owned such a rare and exquisite name. As much as he wanted to say her name, to feel it roll delicately against his lips again, Oliver just couldn't bring himself to say it without as much as an emotion. He can never say her name and make it sound like he didn't care the least. He couldn't betray himself like that. It was best that they keep matters between them now as formal as he possibly could.

"Or would that be too informal, using it even if we're alone in the same room, Oliver?!"

He inwardly winced at the way his name sounded on her lips and at the harsh accusation she had thrown at him. "Yassia..." he had began to say in a surprisingly pleading tone, but then stopped himself. He knew his eyes had unintentionally betrayed him and he quickly looked away, towards the windows where everything was bright and clear outside, just so she could not see the hurt and pain that had flashed momentarily in his eyes. His name had sounded so endearing in her lips once before, but now, it sounded anything but. Clenching his jaw, Oliver took a deep breath to control the torrent of emotions inside him before looking back at her. He can't lose control. Not now. He can't allow himself to break down. He had to see this through till the end.

"if no one should know what we've been through, then acting too formal could arouse suspicion as well"

"Then let us keep it light and free then like acquaintances do," Oliver said as nonchalantly as he could. I'm sure we can do it. We've only just met each other at Arthur's coronation and birthday party, did we not?" How conniving and heartless did that sound? Oliver tried but failed to suppress the hint of malice from his voice when he said those words, and he kicked himself mentally. Did he just not promise to keep himself and his emotions in check today? It was taking a great deal of effort for him to be in control when it comes to Yassia.

Trust her to react so strongly to his seeming declaration to have her choose Edmund. Still Oliver couldn't help but listen as she went on to tell him about the plight of her kingdom. He was unexpectedly intrigued and curious. Partly because it was a rather disturbing story, but mostly because it involved her. She was fighting for her kingdom...with her life. The only surviving daughter of the ruling family had fled the strife in her own land for her own safety. And to find help. How brave and courageous of her to undertake such an ordeal.

It was the reason she had traveled to Albion as she had told him, his brother, and his father a couple of nights ago. Now, there was not a doubt that Edmund liked her. He is the Crown Prince of Mercia, and Mercia has one of the strongest armies in all of Albion. The centuries-old war with Camelot was proof of that. Yassia only need to reciprocate his brother's affections, and Oliver was pretty sure Edmund would find a way to help her out. Oliver was starting to believe Yassia, and he wanted to help her. But there was only so much he could do. Edmund could give her so much more. As much as he wanted to tell her what she and Ailantha could get from "choosing Edmund," Oliver though was not in the mood to play matchmaker that way. She will have to figure it all out for herself.

"I'm sure that you will find the help that your people need. If you would just open your eyes, princess, you'd realize that you don't even have to work that hard to get it," he replied rather cryptically, and wondered how far would Yassia go to save her kingdom. Would she enter into a marriage to get it? Well, Edmund was no troll. He's a fine gentleman, a good-looking fellow, and heir to the Mercian throne. If Yassia doesn't have feelings for him now, she will learn to love him soon when she gets to know him more.

Yes, this strange monologue that was going on inside his head was all for the sake of convincing himself that Yassia was truly better off with his brother. No matter how painful it was to let her go like that, he had to keep this suffering to himself. There was just no place in for him here with Yassia now. At least, not anymore.

"The caravan is waiting for us at the courtyard. It should be ready to leave Camelot anytime now. Are you all set?" Oliver said as a way of breaking the hopeless and pointless train of thought that his mind was taking him. The sooner he can get out of the room, the sooner he can breathe freely.

[Yassia Dyfrène de Ailantha]

She saw him wince and for a moment wondered if he was feeling the same pain she did. But no, it could not be. If it pained him so much, pushing her away, why did he do it then? He had no reason to. The only reason she could see was that he did not love her anymore, maybe had never had, despite his wonderful words.
"Yassia..."
No matter how pleading it sounded, him calling her name still held the old temptation. It still felt like the most irresistible siren’s call she had ever heard. Irresistible even now. Her whole body ached with the tension in her muscles as she held herself back from throwing herself into his arms, begging him to forgive her, to look at her again like he had a year ago.With eyes filled with joy, with bliss… with love even. Her treacherous eyes, no more succumbing to her will, desperately searched his gaze for a sign of those old feelings. And for just a split second, she thought to see them there, clouded by pain that mirrored her own. It made her mouth open slightly in a silent gasp – but then he looked away.

And this was the ultimative proof. Looking away had been an act of will, not something involuntary. So he was in control of his emotions again. What he did was what he wanted. And he wanted to look away. He willingly let go of this moment that could have become a desperate reunion, and rejected her once again. She had been stupid to hope for something different. Oliver had closed off himself from her, there was no turning back. There never would be a tender moment shared between them again. Muscles in her flanks began to quiver and cramp as she still forced herself to stand as still and upright as a statue, now looking away as well. Eyes are the mirros of the soul, she could not mask them as well as she liked. And Oliver should not see the amount of pain she was in. She did not want his pity. She had her pride!

His words only seemed to underline his will.
"Then let us keep it light and free then like acquaintances do," I'm sure we can do it. We've only just met each other at Arthur's coronation and birthday party, did we not?"
These words and the subtle malice she could feel behind them were the final blow. It had been a mistake to harden her heart before, because now what he said was like a stone hitting a solid block of ice that made her heart burst into a thousand razor-shape shards, being thrown out into her body and cutting everything to pieces. A moment before she had hid her hands behind her back to keep them from reaching out at him, now she found her fingernails digging into her palms until she could feel her skin break. It didn’t help much with the internal pain, but it forced her to stay upright. Her knuckles must show white as tightly as she pressed her hands together, but Yassia did not bother to check. All her senses were directed to recover from this mortal blow, and not let him see her fight.

”Of course…” she forced out stiffly, between tightly pressed lips. “What else? We have not seen each other ever before in our lifetime. Nothing happened.”
Nothing happened…how could he refuse to acknowledge it and how could she ever agree to it? They had not simply drawn a line, they had eradicated their past with a pumice, so forcefully they had left nothing but a big, raw hole. And this hole would never be filled again unless one of them tried to make amends. Hadn’t this conversation made clear enough it would never happen?

"I'm sure that you will find the help that your people need. If you would just open your eyes, princess, you'd realize that you don't even have to work that hard to get it,"
She still could not be quite so sure what he meant with his cryptic talk, but Yassia already had too much to deal with right now to really bother. Her brain had gone into shutdown far earlier, as her emotions had taken over. Maybe another day his words would make more sense, or they would not. It was not in her hands anymore, nothing of it was.
”If you say so”, therefore was all she answered and chose to let the matter drop. Maybe she should really talk to Edmund a little more about her past. Far be it from her to want to exploit his kindness, but with the current problems Camelot was in, she might not get anywhere with being helped out for another year. It was always better to reach out for other possibilities just in case. Even if she would have to stay around Oliver for that.

She nodded to his inquiry of being all set up for the journey and walked towards her bed, where a leather bag was placed on. Even though a wooden, delicately carved box – a gift from her uncle – contained most of her belongings, this bag still was heavy enough.
”I will call two servants for the chest”, she said absentmindly, then slung the bag over her shoulder. She had been carrying it around for a while, but now after a year, she swayed a little at its sudden weight, which had also increased due to her getting new things.

[Oliver Strathmore of Mercia]

What was he doing hurting her like this? What was he doing hurting himself in the process as well? Oliver was never a masochist, he doesn't take pleasure in the pain, but responsibility and duty had to take precedence over everything else, even over his emotions. Especially his emotions. It would all turn out well in the long run, Oliver was telling himself. Sacrifices had to be made for the greater good--for his brother, for the kingdom of Mercia, and if Yassia wanted to, for Ailantha as well. Oliver had to take comfort in the fact that his sacrifice would bring about a union that would be beneficial not only for his people but for Yassia's as well. By then, she would be happy. And if she was happy, he would be, too.

“What else? We have not seen each other ever before in our lifetime. Nothing happened.”

Oliver felt his jaws clench at her words yet again. Yassia was pushing him to admit, to revisit their past, a past that Oliver was trying so hard not to take control over him. If he would give in to all the wonderful feelings of that moment, he knew he would never be able to hold himself back. Heavens! That moment was perhaps the singular most unforgettable moment in his life. He had quite a lot of those, but his first with Yassia will forever be etched in his mind. The magic of that moment could never be paralleled by anything else. There will never anything quite like it in his life. He didn't know what it was back then, but he knew now quite clearly what it was. There was no doubt about it. It was love. In the most plain and simple words, love. He loved her. And looking at her now, he knew he love her still. He wondered if she had loved him just as much, if she felt the same way -- truly, madly, deeply. Regardless, it was his love that was making him keep his distance. Yassia would get nothing from him. She would be better off with Edmund, who Oliver knew would also love Yassia, maybe not as much as he does, but Edmund would take care of her.

"Nothing happened." Against his will, Oliver agreed and admitted to the most outrageous lie he had ever told in his life. He may have lied many times before to his father, his brother, to friends. He had lied to Yassia about his identity first time they met. But none of those lies come close to this one right here. To admit that nothing had happened between them was tantamount to renouncing his feelings--his love--for her. Outwardly, Oliver may show and tell her that he doesn't have feelings for her, but inside he was just as angry with himself as he was with the stars for making things turn out this way, for being so cruel as to toy with them and their feelings like this.

He shook his head when she casually accepted the hint that he was giving her about Edmund, like it didn't matter at all. Why was she making it hard for herself when she could have the world served to her on a silver platter if she'd choose Edmund? Oliver knew she was stubborn, but as a dutiful princess she should have automatically jumped at the chance to save her kingdom this way.

When Yassia swayed as she slung her rather heavy bag over her shoulder, this time Oliver hadn't held himself back. Instinctively and surprising even himself, he immediately found himself rushing to her side and reaching his hand out to take the bag from her. His hand had settled on her dainty shoulder, and Oliver felt electricity surge up the length of his arm and all over his body at the unexpected contact. He stopped and looked at where his hand was settled, and an onslaught of images and their accompanying emotions came to him--of their fateful encounter in the forest, of him treating her wound, of her lying against him, of their kiss. Moments had ticked by and when Oliver found himself looking at Yassia, his face dangerously close to hers as he just stood there rooted on the spot. He knew his eyes held a pleading--for her to understand why he was doing what he was doing, for her to know that he was doing this for her and not for himself. Please, Yassia... The man--that man who loved her--called out to her. Resisting the urge to pull Yassia to him and just wrap her in his arms, Oliver finally caught himself and lifted the bag off her shoulders, and then stepped back a bit. "I got this one," he offered, sounding all gentle but formal again. Then he held his hand out to give her her dagger, which she hadn't taken from him when he offered it to her earlier.

[Yassia Dyfrène de Ailantha]

Yassia had always deemed herself reasonable, dutiful, strong and all those other qualities that were befitting to a princess and future queen. If she had thought her people would benefit from her marrying her cousin, she would have swallowed her contempt and married him. She would have considered any other candidate the crown council would have offered her with not much hesitation. Was it her luck or her bad luck that the possibilities had been unacceptable not even to her, but for her kingdom as well? Guifré, her uncle, had always been the one egging his brother on to take part in the big political schemes, taking sides with one of the greater kingdoms and enter in their wars. And his son was nothing but a marionette, good looking but without a brain. He would do whatever his father told him to do. Yassia had been sure that within a year, her uncle would have found a way to reduce her powers until it was HIM, behind the person of his son, ruling the kingdom. This was why she was here. If she was helped out she could secure her own, just claim on the throne, without having to marry – or if the stars were in her favor she could find someone who she could trust.

Just that the stars were no longer in her favor, maybe never had been. Coldly they twinkled down on her twisted life, and if they interfered, then only to make her burden harder. And now, when she needed it most, she could suddenly no longer hold up the mask of the dutiful princess. The turmoil inside her was too strong. She refused to accept that she could not love Oliver against all odds, and yet it had to be done. She had to draw a line. He didn’t seem to have as much difficulties with it, and yet… something was off.
His mind might be in this, maybe even his heart… but something was missing. Or was she only wishing it to be that way? His words, however were strong as ever.
He confirmed her bold statement. Nothing had happened. But Yassia knew one thing: they both could deny it, but no word, no statement would ever be able to erase the memories from her mind. She might not be allowed to cling to them still, but they stayed where they had been formed and rested for so long. His kisses had not only burned her skin, they had left an undestroyable seal on her soul.

”G-good”, she said, hoping her voice would not quiver too much. If she had been more in her own mind, if this had meant nothing to her, or at least not as much, she might have added something like: ‘It’s better this way’. But she couldn’t. Because it WAS not better this way, not for her. And lying to yourself only went so far.
Seeing him shaking his head, he wondered what he was thinking. She still hadn’t quite figured this topic out. He could not been hinting at her choosing Edmund as her husband?! He knew he was the Crown Prince after all! Or… no, that was too outrageous. Even though Oliver had hurt her in ways never believed possible and even though she had felt the urge to kill him for a split second last night, she would not think so badly of him as to assume he would like to team her up with his brother so he could become Crown Prince. That was ridiculous!

She had not expected him to make any move at all, not after what had just passed between them, and so when she felt his hand on her shoulder she couldn’t help but wince, both with the shock his touch caused to strike through her body and with the surprise her mind felt. Who was she kidding, really? Her mind had accepted the inevitable, and her heart was slowly learning to, but her body… it still sprang alive at the most fleeting touch of his fingers, evoking memories of when they had been in each other’s arms…
And then his eyes… How could he be so cruel?! What she thought to read in them was the exact opposite to what he had said and held himself as. They were not distant… they were warm, and… pleading?! What was going on here? For a moment that seemed like a lifetime, Yassia held this gaze, asking a silent question, but just as she felt her defenses tumbling down, she broke it and looked away. Stop playing games with me, Oliver! Stay true to your chosen path or stay away from me!

She had to clear her throat before she could get any word out. “Thank you. I appreciate that”, she said, not wanting to play the strong and independent woman. A princess did not carry around her things. She had servants to do that – or gentlemen. With a rather tentative smile, she took the knife from his hands, then bent down to tug it into her boot again where it belonged. As she straightened once more, she squared her shoulders and took a deep breath, nodding to Oliver. “Let’s go! I bet Caitrin and Griff are already waiting. Not to mention your family.”
She could do this… she had to. Smile, Yassia… don’t let the world see your pain.

[Oliver Strathmore of Mercia]

"G-good."

That was it. That sealed it all then. Yassia was content to bury the past. And Oliver knew he had to as well. He had to admit it had all been lip service on his part. No one would know what he felt inside, the torture that he was subjecting himself to...and will continue to subject himself to. He can continue to hold on to the memory of their past without showing any outward signs of letting it control him. It should be easy, right? At night, in the solitude of his room, he can let go and relive the wonderful memories he had with Yassia. He would imagine her laughing at his jokes, bantering with him, lying in his arms, kissing him. He would gladly torture himself every night like this, and then put up a bold and unaffected face the morning after. No one would know. No one would care. That was the only way he knew he could survive all this. Dammit! Why had Edmund had to beat him to her? Sure, he had known Yassia first, but it was Edmund who had publicly staked a claim on her, or at least to their father. Oliver had been so consumed by anger that night that he had lost that chance, that opportunity to rekindle the past with her. And it was all too late now. There was no going back.

She met his eyes, and for a moment, Oliver thought one of them might break, but it was over not too soon after. Yassia had looked away just as he had stepped back. Those were conscious efforts on their part to completely put a lid on the past. The things you have to do for your people. The things you have to sacrifice for the happiness of others. For a moment there, Oliver wished he had not made that vow to her. Oliver wished he was still the carefree, devil-may-care son of Mercia, for then he would snatch her away and take her far where no one could follow them--whether she wanted to or not. But no, he can never do that to her or to his family. He can never have the happiness that he so longed for all his life.

He gave her a small nod when she thanked him for taking her bag, and was starting to make his way towards the door when Yassia mentioned Caitrin and Griff. He turned to look at her, his eyes questioning but twinkling at the thought of her knowing his good friend, the Lady Caitrin de Archer. "You know Caitrin and Griff?" he remarked as casually as he could, trying to hold back his curiosity, as he opened the door and held it for her.

Oliver wasn't quite sure what to make of this information, but part of him was glad that they both have a friend in Caitrin. She hadn't mentioned knowing Yassia, but then again, he hadn't exactly told her who his nomad lady was. He wondered if Yassia had told Caitrin about him, but then dismissed the thought. Oliver doubted Yassia would tell anyone about their encounter in the woods. It was all just a game to her, wasn't it? Oliver made a mental note to talk to Caitrin as they started making their way out of the room, down the hallways towards the courtyard where the rest of the party was readying for the trip back to Mercia.

[Caitrin de Archer]

Well at least they weren’t late; that was the important thing. After worrying that they were going to be holding up the carriage to Mercia, Caitrin had, irritatingly, given in and had let Griff lead the horse into Camelot. There were some bags slung across the beasts back, so it was a wonder it was able to move at all. It was however one of her Uncle’s steeds, so it was quite a bit bigger and stronger than Caitrin’s mare, Lily. Caitrin was holding onto Griff as they entered the courtyard. The preparations were already being made for the Royal journey back to Mercia, it was chaotic yet interesting to watch all the same. She jumped off the horse as Griff was slowing it to a halt and began to look around. Hmm. She’d been expecting Yassia or Oliver to greet them, where were they both?

A servant rushed forwards and took the bags off the back of the horse and Caitrin looked up to her fiancé and cocked a grin at him. “Not worried are you?” She asked jokingly and gave him a wink. Of course he had complained no end to journeying to Mercia. Caitrin wasn’t too thrilled about going back home either, but she was grinning and bearing it for Oliver and Yassia. It would have been rude to refuse either invitation after all. Caitrin almost skipped on her way and looked around the horse to a flash of blue. Of course it wasn’t Oliver, it was his father and brother. She pressed her lips together, she would have to make herself known sooner or later. There was no going back now, and the best she could hope for was that her father was away when they journeyed to Mercia. She really didn’t want to see him, her father was one thing in Mercia she wished to forget with immediate effect. She held no affection for the man, and vice versa.

Eventually her courage kicked back into gear and she ignored Griff and the horse, hopefully he would put it in the stables. They could collect it when they returned that way. Straightening out her long bottle green dress, and cloak to match, Caitrin finally stepped towards their hosts. She wasn’t quite sure where King Baynard was, but his eldest son, the Crown Prince Edmund and Caitrin quickly swept into a deep curtsey, down casting her eyes. He merely smiled at her and took one of her hands; using it to raise her back up again,

“Well well, Lady Caitrin de Archer. You are certainly quite different from the girl who left my fathers court all those years ago.” Edmund raised her hand to his lips and left a small, courteous kiss on her delicate skin. Caitrin smiled softly back at him,

“Thank you sire, it is nice to see you again.” Edmund grinned,

“The pleasure is all mine; I am sure.” He released her hand and Caitrin took a step backwards and now looked around as Griff had finally thought to join them. She gave a small cough and looked at Griff and then back to the Edmund. Suddenly she almost felt like she was under pressure. She’d never really done anything like this before.

“May I present my fiancée, Lord Griflet Aubert.” She said confidently, finally feeling as if she was getting back into the swing of things. However now it was her turn to fall silent, as it was up to Griff to continue conversing with them both; she couldn’t do everything for him could she?

[Griff Aubert]

Sorry it's taken so long guys.

Alright. Maybe there was a reason why people shouldn't drink before long journeys. His head hurt, and he was tired, but at least he'd managed to persuade Caitrin to let him take the reins. He must look a very sorry state for Caitrin to be so accommodating. Usually they would end up stood there arguing for about ten minutes until he just let out a frustrated sigh and handed over the reigns - or nicked them off her and held on tight. This morning however she'd just let him get on with it, making Griff rather suspicious - she was clearly up to something.

"Me? Worried?" He laughed, why would he be worried? There was nothing in this situation that would give Griff reason to be worried - apart from the whole travelling to Mercia thing. And then being in Mercia. But other than that, it was fine. He didn't quite jump off the horse - he wasn't quite up to that sort of thing just yet. But however you described his actions they were obviously still as masculine and impressive as they usually were. With his feet firmly on solid ground he felt slightly better, at least he now knew the slightly dizzy feeling was directly because of last night's alcohol, and not because he was about to fall of a horse and cause some serious injury to himself. "Is that obvious?" While he wasn't particularly looking forward to the journey itself, it was actually arriving in Mercia which was what he was least enthusiastic about. From what he had heard, Caitrin was as close to her family as he was to his. This was going to be fun.

He was about to say something else to her, but she'd already walked off somewhere. With a roll of his eyes he handed the reins to a nearby servant and awkwardly walked in what he hoped was the right direction. There was a rather important looking man talking to Caitrin, so naturally Griff took an immediate dislike to the man. On joining them he realised who it was - Prince Edmund. He had never met the man before, but he had been at Arthur's coronation.

“May I present my fiancée, Lord Griflet Aubert.”

Griff gave a bow, which really was rather uncomfortable – and really not helping his headache - and definitely not something he particularly wanted to in his present condition, so the prince better appreciate it. He didn’t particularly like bowing anyway, especially not to royals. His narcissism wasn’t all that fond of having to show the world that someone was better than he was, even if it was only in status. “A pleasure to meet you, sire.” Well that was a blatant lie, but oh well. Griff was from Glouchedon, what did he care about pandering to Mercian royals?

[Yassia Dyfrène de Ailantha]

Gladly they were crossing paths of two servants immediately after leaving the room, so Yassia could ask them to take the wooden chest down into the courtyard. With Oliver also taking her other bag, she now could walk like it should be for a princess, even though it still felt a bit odd. How could it be that after such a long time back in her ‘old life’ she still couldn’t quite let go of the feeling of being a wanderer and totally self-reliant. She had known there would be things not easily forgotten, but that she was actually acting on some things still, like taking her own luggage out of what should even be a habit anymore, was peculiar at best.
Thoughts like this were happily distracting her from the man that was walking by her side. How could he still have such a physical presence? They were not touching, but every now and again just the fabric of both their clothes would swish against each other and yet it would feel like being hit by a lightening bolt in this particular place.

Half Yassia had hoped he would keep silent during their walk, half she had feared it, so now when he actually asked a question she didn’t know how to feel about that. Not that she usually knew how to feel around him anyway, that just added to the turmoil inside her. But gladly it was a question that could be answered rather easily and it was also something dear to her heart that did have nothing to do with him. It should be safe talking about Caitrin and Griff.
”Well yes, I actually know them both. Caitrin has been a very dear friend to me, ever since coming here. She made settling into Camelot so much easier for me a year ago. And Griff”, now an actual smile played around her lips and she shook her head in wonder. “I think it is very hard not to like Griff. He and Caitrin seem like made for each other.”
Oh dear, how wrong she had been. Of course no topic they talked about could be safe. She just couldn’t keep her stupid mind from comparing Caitrin and Griff to whatever Oliver and her had. Hadn’t they also seemed like made for each other? Now look where that had led!

When they reached the courtyard, it looked like Caitrin and Griff had just arrived as well. Biting her lips in amusement, Yassia watched as Griff dismounted his horse in a manner that surely would have looked more elegant on a different day. Was he still that affected by his excessive drinking that other night? Well, Yassia herself had only been drunk once in her life – and where that had lead… why on earth was it that every single flipping thought of hers came back to Oliver?! That couldn’t be healthy! And it also wasn’t right! They had drawn a line under all of this, hadn’t they? She had agreed to it herself!
Quickly, Yassia focused on Caitrin as she and Oliver now were descending the large staircase into the courtyard. Her friend had just been introduced to Lord Bayard and Prince Edmund who were waiting as well.
As they were approaching, Yassia wondered what best to do. According to her rank, she could address both Prince Edmund and his father freely, without having to wait for them to speak first. Then again she was not in her own territory… then again so weren’t they… Oh to hell with it!

”Good morning, Lord Bayard, Prince Edmund”, she called out as they were only a few steps away. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting for too long.” She bowed her head like it was custom for a princess to do amonst other royalty, and only then approached Caitrin and Griff. “Good morning to you, my dear.” She said in a lower tone, working hard on a smile, though it somehow was harder to maintain in front of her true friend. “I’m pleasantly surprised to see you here, didn’t you first intend to join us on the road?”