Home Is Where You Are (Yassia)

[Oliver Strathmore of Mercia]

Sweet dreams are made of both the explainable and unexplainable. But most often than not, it is the unexplainable, the unfathomable that make those dreams sweeter. It is the tempting and the beautiful unknown that make every moment exciting, mysterious, and worth looking forward to--every second, every minute of everyday.

Such were the thoughts raving inside Oliver's mind as he gazed down at the lovely sight slumbering softly beside him. Hungrily drinking in every curve and every line on her beautiful face, the prince lovingly watched his one and only princess just as the first rays of the early morning sun started to peek from the distant horizon and kiss the walls of their tent. The unknown may be waiting for them ahead, but Oliver felt neither fear nor hesitation in his heart as he knew he would not be facing it alone.

They were on their fifth day of travel, leaving Mercia a few days after the wedding to make their way down south of Albion, across the seas to the east, and on to Ailantha for Yassia to take back what was rightfully hers. With the rather daunting task waiting for them ahead, Oliver chose to make the most out of quiet moments like this, just to pause and marvel at all the blessings around him, especially this one lying peacefully beside him, trusting him with all her heart. Oliver knew he would never get over just how heartbreakingly beautiful his wife was, inside and out. Everyday, he never fails to thank the stars for this wonderful gift that he was given, inspite and despite of everything.

[Yassia Dyfrène de Ailantha]

Surrounded by a soft and warm light, Yassia was walking through the castle garden in a leisurely pace, a long trail of cloth swishing over the ground from her favourite gown. There in the distance was the King’s Grove, the row of ancient and not-so-ancient trees that marked the line of descendance for Ailantha’s Kings, but her steps were not directed there. Instead, Yassia was walking towards a tree heavy with ripe cherries, glowing dark red in the afternoon light. With a pleased smile, she raised her hand to pluck one of the rich fruits, when suddenly there were no more there, only a few high up and out of reach, already withered and probably sour. Gasping, she turned on her heels and found herself eye in eye with Guifré, who held a basket full of her cherries, just putting one into his mouth. “How dare you!” she exclaimed, furious beyond belief. “These cherries are from MY lineage tree, no one is allowed to touch it without my permission!” Her uncle only smiled and she watched his teeth crushing another cherry. “You were not there when they were ripe, Nebodeta. A pity to have them go to waste, don’t you think? Shouldn’t they rather be cherished by someone who can… really appreciate their sweet taste?” And then he turned to go, and it was only then Yassia saw that he was wearing the king’s crown. She wanted to cry, to run after him and wedge both items from his greedy persona, but she stayed rooted in place. Suddenly a hand sneaked around her midsection and she heard a soft voice whispering into her ear: “Don’t worry, Yassia… we’ll take them back from him. The cherries… and the crown.” Bright, loving eyes were looking down at her, and she smiled.

When her eyes fluttered open, at first Yassia didn’t know where she was. Where was the garden and the grove? Where was her cherrie tree? But then her eyes slowly focussed, and she was making out the fabric of a tent around her. And something else, a figure was bent over her, saying nothing, just smiling. Bright, loving eyes were looking down at her, and she smiled. She couldn’t help it. Yassia wasn’t in Ailantha yet, but a part of the dream was still true. They WERE going to get her crown back. Just now they were five days away from Mercia, and near Camelot to say their final goodbyes until they would embark on the true journey home. This was already a part of it, but still it didn’t feel as grand yet as she had feared it would. The apprehension would probably come later, and the fear would grow with every mile they would come closer to Ailantha. But with him, she knew she could manage. With Oliver, she had always known she could fight the whole world, if necessary.

“Good Morning”, she murmured, snuggling a little closer to her husband. Her husband… how wonderfully new that still sounded to her ears. By the laws of Mercia, she was now Oliver’s wife, even though they might have to repeat the ceremony under Ailanthan laws. But that didn’t matter. In her heart, Yassia had been bound to him long before that, but the ceremony added a nice touch to it. “Did you sleep well?”

[Oliver Strathmore of Mercia]

The prince watched the subtle play of emotions on her sweet face as she slept, the crease of her forehead and the movement under her eyelids as if she was dreaming. And somehow, Oliver felt that it didn't seem to be quite a good one. He resisted waking her up just as her face relaxed into a soft and calm one, and couldn't help but wonder what it was from her subsconscious that was trying to sneak up through her dreams this time. He wouldn't be surprised to know if it had anything to do with Ailantha and her treacherous uncle. These past few days, as the plans to leave for Yassia's kingdom were being put in place, the princess has been having dreams as of late about her beloved home, both good and bad. How Oliver wanted to wipe those bad ones away and just replace them with good new ones.

When her eyes fluttered open, he waited for her to get acclimated to her surroundings before he would swoop in. Oh how, he wanted to "swoop" in right there and then. The sight of Yassia waking up every morning was a glorious sight he would try as much not to miss. Sometimes Yassia would beat him to it though. Waking up ahead of him, and doing the gazing herself. Somehow, it had become a playful game to them every morning. A playful yet loving one. And Oliver would like to think he was winning it, though for sure, Yassia would debate otherwise.

"Bon dia, el meu amor," he whispered softly back, smiling fondly, practicing what little Ailanthan language he had learned these past few weeks with her. His arms automatically snaked around her waist as Yassia snuggled closer, and leaned in to plant a kiss on the tip of her nose. Then he moved gently down to take her lips into his in a sweet and loving early morning kiss. "I slept like a baby," he replied as he lay his head back on the pillow beside hers, lying on his side to watch her. Outside, he could already hear their camp slowly coming to life, getting ready for breakfast and another day of traveling. "But I don't think you did. Want to tell me about it?" They were in no hurry. Camelot was now less than a day's ride, and he knew once they get there, they'd have at least a couple of days to restock their provisions...and of course, to bid their friends goodbye.

[Yassia Dyfrène de Ailantha]

Hearing her mother tongue out of his mouth made her sleepy smile take on a mischievous edge. He was really trying hard,and his ability to memorize phrases had amazed her from the start, so she didn’t look down on him in any way. On the contrary, what made her love him even more was the accent he still carried while pronouncing certain letters, since it reminded her a little of her mother’s speech. The Mercian accent, she had found out, was harder than the Camelotian one in the way of pronouncing consonants, and of course her mother had had half of her lifetime for practicing to get rid of it. Yassia was sure that Oliver would learn it all in his own good time, and she hoped they would have long years ahead of them for him to improve. For now, the slight glitches were an adorable addition. “Molt bo, dormilega!” she teased him. After all, it wasn’t bad at all to be able to speak in a different language even after just waking up. This time he had beaten her to the punch, maybe next time she would be the one waking up first, she loved to watch him sleep so much.

She should have known he would not let the opportunity slip past him, and when she felt his arm sneak around her waist and his lips captured hers, she suddenly almost wished morning wasn’t breaking already… that they still would have a night ahead of them and wouldn’t have to get up so soon and journey on. For only a moment, she immersed herself in the kiss and the promise it held, the promise of past pleasures and those of the future, yet to come – but some other time. Now there were already sounds all around them, from their company working in the camp and preparing for a swift departure after the morning meal. They would reach Camelot’s borders soon and there were a few things to be considered later, especially also concerning the question of free passage. You couldn’t just cross the borders to a foreign kingdom with so many armed people after all and not give a warning of your peaceful intentions – especially not considering the fragile state of truce and peace Camelot and Mercia had only established recently. All those thoughts already on her mind and the knowledge that there were people awake and running about on the other side of the thin walls of their tent made Yassia hesitant to follow through with the… interesting thoughts she had on her mind.

Of course Oliver was apt enough to take in the little signs she must have shown from her disturbing dream on the outside. Maybe she had tossed and turned, maybe she had even muttered something in her sleep. It made Yassia a little self-conscious, she didn’t want to burden him with her fickle nerves and inner conflicts. They would cross that bridge when they got to it, she knew that, so she really wished her subconscious would finally learn that lesson too, and make her a little less the worrywart.
”It’s nothing, really”, she tried to appease him. “I just dreamt of my uncle again, about him teasing me for coming too late. I guess it’s just the general worries I have, about him already being too settled in Ailantha, so I can’t overthrow him anymore. But I also dreamt of you”, now the mischievous smile returned. “You were right there with me… helping me. Even in my dreams.”

[Oliver Strathmore of Mercia]

"Mol bo, dormilega!"

"In English, please," he replied with a wide sheepish grin after a confused crease had appeared on the prince's forehead as he tried but failed to decipher the foreign words that his wife was now speaking. All he knew from that mischievous look in her eyes was that she was playing with him. If Oliver didn't know any better, he would have thought that Yassia was deliberately trying to lose him in the Ailanthan tongue. Of course, he knew that his wife was only helping him enrich his vocabulary by exposing him to as much of her language as she could manage before they arrive in her country. And Oliver could only be nothing but grateful. He knew exactly what was waiting for him across the seas. If victory becomes theirs, he knew he would be more than just Yassia's husband. He would take her side as her king, and together they would reign over her people like her father and mother did. And learning the Ailanthan language by heart was only the first step for him to be able to measure up to even just half of what Yassia's father king had been. To be honest, he couldn't shake off the fear and apprehension that he might fail her there. Of course, while Oliver had been pretty honest to Yassia about this, he was also doing his best to be the best for her and for her people.

He listened to her tell him of her dream, and Oliver couldn't help but heave a deep sigh at knowing thoughts of her uncle's treachery had yet again managed to find its way into her dreams--or nightmares more like. As much as Oliver wanted to help her here, now, there was only so much he could do. Until they arrive in Ailantha, until they have gathered their forces there, until they have executed even at least phase one of their plan, there was nothing Oliver could do but comfort her with words, with loving caresses that he hoped could help even just a little bit.

"I am so sorry, my love," he whispered lovingly as his hand reached up to caress her cheek, giving it a gentle and reassuring squeeze before he leaned in and planted a long kiss on her forehead. "Not long now, you will have Ailantha back. We will take it from him, and your people will be mighty glad to have you looking after them again, you and me. Nothing is ever too late." While it was the best he could do, reassuring her with words, Oliver knew he would do anything and everything for Yassia, even if it meant giving his life so she could get hers back.

Of course, the fact that, even in her dreams, Oliver still figured quite prominently added a boost to his confidence. Yassia trusts him, and Oliver trusts her just as much. That trust, multiplied and strengthened over a million times by their love, was what's going to see them through all of this. And that thought lifted Oliver's spirits up. He wasn't going to let thoughts of Guifre ruin their day, moreso now that they are already nearing Camelot. "Surely I deserve a reward for helping you in your dream? How exactly did I help you?" he asked, his eyes twinkling with mirth and mischief just like hers.

[Yassia Dyfrène de Ailantha]

Yassia gave a still slightly sleepy chuckle at Oliver’s helpless grin. It was not his fault he couldn’t speak her language, and he was catching on so fast she sometimes forgot how limited his word count actually still was. But it would always be better to do it by the by, use the knowledge she had in both to make it easier to study for him, by including new words in their talk. She couldn’t remember much from her childhood, but she DID remember that her parents had always talked in a mixture of both languages around their children. Queen Rhiannon had always wanted to keep her native tongue alive in her close surroundings, and no one had begrudged her that, since otherwise she hadn’t acted on her differences, she had been a well-loved queen, no matter if she was Ailanthan or not.
“It means: Very good, sleepyhead”, she explained, playfully tapping his nose. “Though it might not even have been a logical remark, since you were obviously awake before me. But, who is caring for logic in the morning?”

Just like in her dream, Oliver was immediately there to reassure her, and it felt so wonderful she couldn’t even describe it. For almost two years she had been alone with her worries and thoughts, of course occasionally helped by Caitrin, but that just wasn’t the same. Ever since her father had died, she had felt like hanging in some void, with the responsibility all alone on her shoulders, and she had second-guessed each and everyone of her steps, every day waking up with a growing bad conscience that she was still hundreds of miles away from where she should be and hadn’t achieved anything yet. Now with Oliver, she finally had someone to ask for reassurance, and someone to help her through – they would be wonderful as king and queen, she already knew that, should the stars grant them success.

“A reward?” she replied, biting her lower lip teasingly as she looked up at him. “Well… you did say the exact things in my dream as you did now, so… do you get a reward for being ‘repetive’, I wonder?” But of course she didn’t mean it, and she already reached up to place her hand on the back of his neck, pulling his head and his lips close to hers, giving him a long, lingering kiss. “Rewarding enough?”, she whispered as they finally parted. Yassia had never been one to play games, but Oliver surely brought out her mischievous and playful side more and more. Maybe that was what love did to you?

[Oliver Strathmore of Mercia]

A heartfelt little laugh issued from Oliver when Yassia told him what her foreign words meant. "You are the sleepyhead. Look at you ready to fall back to sleep again," he playfully retorted back, although he already committed the sentence to memory for use next time. He really appreciated all these little bits of conversations in Ailanthan, and hoped that soon enough he would be able to sustain it longer. Slowly but surely, yes, that was the way to go. "How long did it take your mother to learn the Ailanthan tongue?" Oliver couldn't help but wonder. From Yassia's stories of her family, her mother had been well-loved by her people even if she was not a native. Oliver could only hope he could measure up to that. The last thing he wanted was for Yassia's people to love her and yet hate him. He knew he would do his best to warm himself up to the Ailanthans and vice versa.

The gentle smile on her face and the trust and love clearly reflected in her sleepy eyes told Oliver more than enough and gave him all the strength he needed to go on everyday and do what must be done. He knew that they were both drawing strength from each other, and nothing could be more beautiful and inspiring than that. And then of course, they have the teasing that always never fails to lighten up whatever somber mood they were in. Oliver was determined to not only have love but also a healthy dose of laughter in his family. He knew full well that the ability to look at life with optimism and humor can take them a long way. And besides, life is too short to spend it brooding and skulking.

He gave Yassia a smug little smirk as she tried to worm herself out of the reward that he was asking. And then of course, Oliver knew better when he felt her hands around his neck and pulled him to her for a long, lingering and truly wonderful kiss. Oliver didn't want to pull back. More than anything, he loved the feel of Yassia's lips on his. All those time since they have parted ways in the Forest of Balor, since meeting in Camelot again, Oliver had only wished to kiss her again. Never in his wildest dreams then had he expected to be given what he has now -- a lifetime of kisses with Yassia, a lifetime of love. When their lips parted for air, Oliver rested his forehead on hers as a mischievous little grin curved up the corner of his lips. "Rewarding enough?" Now it was his turn to tease. "Ahh my love, you don't tease your husband like that in the morning, and not expect him to want more, you know," he said as he pulled Yassia closer to him, his hand snaking under the sheets and around the small of her back. Then with a sly little grin, he leaned his head in and planted a slow passionate kiss down the dainty curve of her throat.

[Yassia Dyfrène de Ailantha]

Yassia knew that protesting and pretending she wasn’t sleepy would not do any good, and so she just gave a little groan of approval. In former times, she had learned to get quickly out of bed, especially during her journey when she had wanted to use every hour of light to get going and a little closer to Camelot. When being in Camelot, the ever-present disquietness inside her had kept her on her toes and awake in the early morning hours. Now however it seemed so wonderfully easy to be lazy. Not only did she now have more than one reason of staying in bed in the morning, she also knew that the set pace of a small army was much slower than that of a single person. Of course they should not linger, but there was also not much need for being overhasty.His question was a good one, and Yassia cocked her head, tracing the rims of the tent squares over them with her eyes as she thought about what she might know about it. Being their second child, she had never witnessed the first years of Rhiannon in Ailantha of course, so she could only hazard a vague guess. “With constant exposure to the language and a will to learn it, it might have taken her two years to become absolutely fluid, and maybe one more year to gain perfection”, she mused. “I can’t even compare to my own experiences, since I grew up with both languages alike.”

Hm… knowing Oliver she might have wanted to try harder to escape him that easily. Of course she knew what she was after, and it didn’t help in the slightest that she herself didn’t feel as averse to it as she maybe should have. If Caitrin could see her now! Yassia had thought her friends’ outlook on such things always rather scandalous, compared to what she herself was used to, but now she was together with Oliver, she had found herself to be quite less… reluctant. There was of course always the looming thought of doing certain things in public. As much as the privacy of this tent might suggest it, they were not alone, not surrounded by thick stone walls that would muffle sounds and other things. And to think that she would have to go outside later, meeting the knowing glances of those who had… ah, why was she so self-conscious?! Or rather, why was she even self-conscious about being self-conscious?! This was all very irritating, if you thought about it. Caitrin of course might have had no such thoughts, but Yassia wasn’t Caitrin. She had grown up to the firm belief that anything happening between husband and wife should not be spoken of, let alone witnessed!

But then there was Oliver… Oliver and the siren’s call of his sheer presence. He always made her forget what was right and proper, from the first moment they had met, up until even so much as sharing forbidden, heated kisses after he had unhorsed her, thinking she was some scoundrel out to trick him. He had quite the dangerous effects on her, that much was for sure. And so, when his hand slipped under the blanket, she shivered, biting her lips. “Your hand is cold…” she complained softly, but her eyes where already burning. “Make your choice, either is STAYS under there now, or you remove it, Oliver of Mercia!” Arching her back with another soft moan, she willingly let herself be pulled closer. Oh to hell with ther soldiers outside! They would not dare throwing her looks, now would they?! She was a princess, soon to be queen! They would have more respect and simply overhear… right?!

[Oliver Strathmore of Mercia]

It was heartwarming to see his beloved wife getting easily acclimated to her new life as Lady Strathmore, wife to the second prince of Mercia, after all her years of wandering Albion with all its dangers and occasional cruelties. Of course, he knew it wouldn't be much too hard for the princess seeing as she is only going back to the life she once had before. When he had said his vows to her in marriage, he had also made a promise to keep her life this way now, better, more protected, safe. To see her act and look carefree every now and then was a sign that she was trusting him with that part of her life, and the Mercian prince couldn't be any more happier. When she answered his query, Oliver couldn't help but be thoughful. Two years. That is a good record to master a language. Oliver knew he would certainly do his best. Perhaps once they arrive in Ailantha where more speak the language, it would be easier. Maybe. "With your help, I know I can do it as well," he remarked with a trusting smile. He knew Yassia will also be there for him just as he would be there for her.

"Make your choice, either it STAYS under there now, or you remove it, Oliver of Mercia!"

"Oh no, that is such a difficult decision to make," he teased with his trademark mischievous grin just as his fingers dig genty onto the soft skin on Yassia's back. His lips started moving up her jaw and to that soft spot behind her ear, his kisses slowly growing in intensity and hunger. Then in one swift but gentle move, Oliver had his wife all pinned down beneath him as he took her lips in a hot and searing kiss. He didn't care about the hustle that was already growing outside of their tent as preparations for breakfast was going underway. His men and the few women who are accompanying them on this trip to Ailantha knew all too well what newlywed couples are always up to anyway. And besides, isn't this a natural thing? When love overflows between two people, they will always find a way to express them, to let each other know and feel their love in all ways imaginable. Oliver was sure that his people will, in fact, only be confused and maybe worried if he and Yassia would emerge from their tent earlier than expected. They all expected and want their prince and princess to spend some quality time together, and not want to be rid of each other as fast as they can. Happy rulers are always good rulers, they say. And Oliver was only too proud and happy to wear his heart out on his sleeve for everyone to see. His knights had even teased him more than once about it, that everyone was only seeing hearts in his eyes. Oliver didn't care. He loved Yassia with all his heart, mind, body and soul...and he wanted the whole world to know it.

[Yassia Dyfrène de Ailantha]

Oh she would help him alright! She would make sure he would be excellent in her mother tongue - or father tongue for that matter – and she would spare him no excersize. This was not all about fun, after all, they needn’t forget that. Ruling a kingdom wouldn’t always come easy or go swimmingly, there would be resistances even after they had managed to make Gufré step down from what wasn’t his. Maybe their own honeymoon would be over soon, and there might even be conflicts between them. After all, they had been brought up to quite different ruling concepts. Not that she was scared of them ever losing their love for each other, but she knew it wouldn’t always stay as wonderful as this, and him having to learn a new language was all part of this reality they needn’t let out of their rose-colored sight. “You’ll wish you hadn’t said that one day”, she remarked with a lazy smirk. “Since I might just decide to ‘punish’ you for lack of studying. I could… decide not to kiss you until you’ve spoken ten fluent and coherent sentences to me in the Ailanthan tongue.” Personally, she hoped herself it would not come to that, since she wasn’t sure how long this resolution would hold, it would be too painful for herself most likely.

It was a quite peculiar and yet interesting fact, how Oliver seemed to have come to know her so well in those few weeks they had now spent together. She even hadn’t known herself that well… not in the least, especially not concern her weak and sensitive spots. Of course she had known before that she had been falling for a man who was known for his… experience with ladies, and who had had quite a few shenanigans before he came to fall in love with her. Stars, even on the eve of her wedding, Yassia had found herself faced with a sublty-mean assault from an envious Mercian lady who had apparently wished to get Oliver for herself, after she had ‘had him once’, like she had told Yassia with a mean smirk. She had tried to not let it get to her… and had told herself that this was what you had to live with when you caught the number one prize EVERYONE wanted. Well, she had got him now, even though sometimes when she lay next to him in the night, she still couldn’t believe she would actually deserve someone like him. But he was here with her now… and that was all that counted… soon there would be no conscious thought left on her mind anyway.

That stage she had almost reached already when Oliver slyly and swiftly pinned her down. Yassia was wide awake now and basically a bundle of excited nerves and feelings. Returning the searing kiss, she wiggled into a comfortable position and allowed herself to be swept away on the tide of their love.

--

The camp was very alive now outside, and Yassia knew they should get up. Also, her stomach was starting to growl for breakfast… but she just was too comfortable, snuggled up close to Oliver, softly inhaling and exhaling and just being content with the world. Reaching up lazily, she gave one of Oliver’s damp blond locks a gentle tug. “Second try of trying to get ready, maybe?” she whispered, the smile audible in her voice. “we can’t stay here all day after all.”

[Oliver Strathmore of Mercia]

The young prince couldn't help but wonder if his princess wife was already starting to inherit from him that trademark cheekiness Oliver had been infamous for around the kingdom. For definitely at this very moment, Yassia was meeting his comments with cheeky retorts of her own. Not that he was complaining. He liked this carefree and humorous side of her. He just have to keep telling himself that he needed to get used to it. More often than not, Yassia would always catch him unaware, pulling the rug from under his feet with clever quips of her own that came out of nowhere. "Oh, you'll see. I'll be quite the outstanding student you'll want to reward me with showers and showers of kisses instead," he replied with a wink.

To be with her like this, every waking moment of his life from here onwards, was too much a dream come true that there were times Oliver had to pinch himself to see if it was truly real. All his life being the rebel prince, the black sheep of the family, never had he ever dreamed to be blessed with the love of this extraordinary woman lying here with him. Her eyes showing nothing but complete trust and joy, giving him nothing less than all of herself and her love to him. Sometimes, he couldn't deny that there is a hint of fear in his heart that Yassia might be taken away from him in a blink of an eye as some sort of punishment for playing around, for not caring one bit about his responsibilities as a son of Mercia back in the days. He had repented for those transgressions, and he hoped that would be more than enough to atone for his sins.

That is why in precious moments such as this, Oliver would never ever hold back. He would never let a moment pass without letting Yassia know just how much she meant to him, how special and important she is in his life, how much he needed her, how much he loved her. In his every kiss and every touch, his every move and every breath, Oliver wanted her to always know he was all hers and hers alone.

---

"We can, if I say it so," Oliver replied with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes as he leaned his head down to plant a long and tender kiss on her shoulder which was veiled with nothing but a thin shimmer of sweat against her soft skin. If he were to have it his way, he'd much rather stay inside the tent with Yassia than go out there. They were still in their honeymoon phase to be exact, and Oliver still couldn't get enough of his beloved wife. He doubt he ever would. But of course, the young prince knew his duties all too well to be dilly-dallying about. He will have the rest of his life with Yassia, no reason to be selfish now.

After taking Yassia's lips in one more lingering kiss, Oliver then pushed himself up and off the bed to prepare himself to meet the new day waiting for them outside the tent. "Come, my love. Let's not deprive our dear friends any longer of the chance to tease us again about being besotted newlyweds," he said as he reached a hand out to Yassia, who looked heartstoppingly beautiful still all flushed from their early morning lovemaking. Oliver's heart skipped a beat looking at her, knowing he was the reason for that wonderful glow in her eyes and her smile. He knew he probably looked more like a smitten kitten than anything himself.

[Yassia Dyfrène de Ailantha]

“Oh you are impossible”, she protested with a breathless laugh as he started to kiss her yet again on the shoulder, a place where he knew by now she was feeling most tenderly. Never before had she known the benefits of being known by someone else so profoundl,y if it was to cause her pleasure and not pain. Such knowledge could be dangerous in the wrong hands, but Yassia was sure that there weren’t hands more right than Oliver’s. He was hers now and she was his, like they had often put it, and it couldn’t be more true than in these moments. But there was far more to their union than that, and they needn’t forget that in their honeymoon bliss. Yassia had vowed to try and take her kingdom back with Oliver’s help, and she had lingered far too long already, not by own decision, but to prolong it even more now would be a crime she could not have on her conscience.

She smiled during their kiss and then turned to the side to wriggle out of the blankets. She had been flushed just a few moments before, but now the fine layer of sweat on her skin made her shiver slightly in the fresh morning air. She took Oliver’s hand gladly, pushed herself up, and, after leaning a precious short moment against him, inhaling his familiar scent for one last time, turned in the tent to look for her undergown. Pulling it over her head, Yassia then cast a loving glance at Oliver, only to see how he looked at her likewise. “I wonder if it ever will go away or lessen”, she mused with a smile. [color=7ccd7c“After a good twenty years I mean, that smitten look in your eyes. It makes me feel so… undeserving sometimes, as if I somehow cast a spell over you and without it you would only feel half the things for me.”

[/color]

But if this was a spell to last, Yassia could not say she really would mind. Since she knew she was not a fada, or a sorceress, she knew that any spell they might be under was shared and created between themselves. Then she took the riding gown she was wearing for travel – not the old one she had come to Albion with since that was too threadbare now, but she had asked for an almost exact replica – and put it on as well, turning to her husband with a smile. “Would you help me with the lacing, love?” It was not the first time she asked for it, but she still marvelled at her being able to say it – just like her mother had said it sometimes to her father, knowing the symbolism behind it. Only a husband was allowed as a man to help a woman with tying the laces of her bodice, and he did so for the first time after their wedding night.
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[Oliver Strathmore of Mercia]

Even as Oliver started putting his clothes on, his eyes were lovingly watching his beloved wife put hers on as well. Somehow after the wedding or a few days before that, Oliver had taken to dressing himself up without the aid of a servant, at least the basic breeches and tunic. It was the least he could do as a respectful nod and reverence to the days when Yassia had been wandering the lands of Albion all on her own, fending for herself, surviving day to day without the aid of a servant. He could see the benefits now. He need not require the services of his servant Lot right away as soon as he wakes up, and that only gives him more alone time with Yassia. He wouldn't want it any other way.

“Would you help me with the lacing, love?”

"Always," Oliver replied, a smile in his eyes, as he slung his tunic over his bare shoulder and moved to stand behind Yassia. His hands found the dainty lacing on the back of her dress and he gently woved them together as he had done before. It had been a rather intimate gesture the first time Yassia had asked him to do it after their wedding night, and he had no idea what the meaning behind the gesture was until his lovely wife told him about it. One thing that never seized to amaze him about his wife is her ability to well...amaze him with knowledge and lores that Oliver never knew existed. Their nights, while mostly heavy with sweet and passionate lovemaking, were also filled with easy conversations on just about anything. And well, Oliver loved a conversation more than anything in the world. Well, now after his wife.

"So tell me again," he asked taking his time tying the laces. "What makes this simple gesture an intimate moment shared only between a husband and a wife?" He couldn't help it, but he loved listening to his wife tell him of tales from her side of the land.

[Yassia Dyfrène de Ailantha]

Even though he had done this a couple of times already, Yassia still relished in this one special moment shared between them after they got up. Due to a few twists in her life story and especially concerning her journey through Albion, Oliver might not be the first man doing this special act of tying the lace for her, even though no other man should even think of it, but at least he was the first and only one with the true meaning behind it. With a little, almost nostalgic smile, she remembered the times when the circumstances had made it necessary for a man’s hand to deal with her lacing. First, there had been Lorcan who had found her washed ashore in Albion, and who had nursed her back to health. She had felt unsure with that, but had been too ill to protest. Then there had been that incident with the young rascal named Gwaine who had saved her from being mistreated in that tavern. This night… it had taken much of her countenance, what with having to witness Gwaine’s shenanigans with their gracious hostess Linda. And then the next morning… she had cramped while trying to tie the lacing herself, and he had had to do it.

It all seemed so long ago, but Yassia still thought of these things regularly, since she knew they had shaped her into the woman she was now, and she had learned many lessons back then. It would do her good to remember all those people who had aided her on her way and had taught her one or the other thing about the real life. In hindsight, she sometimes thought all those little incidents had prepared her for Oliver somehow, to be the woman for him he loved. For the Yassia that had first left Ailantha might not have caught his interest at all, naïve and helpless as she had been then.

Leaning a little against his bare chest for a moment, she then let him do his wonderful work. Over the last few days he had become quite proficient in it, even though she still joked he was MORE versed in getting a woman OUT of her bodice. The meaning of this gesture was deeply routed into the Ailanthan culture, and she had no qualms with explaining it to him again. “Well… when you think about it, it is not that simple”, she pointed out, the smile audible in her voice. “Since when a man ties the lacing of a woman in the morning, that is an indication of him having UNtied it the previous night. And for that there is usually only one reason.” Yassia hadn’t thought she would ever talk so freely about these things, but Oliver had changed her in this aspect, too. “And in the ideal courtly world of Ailantha, the first man to ever touch a woman’s lacing is her husband. That’s the story behind it. It's like another vow between them, the following morning.”