Love Heals [Yassia]

[Oliver Strathmore of Mercia]

"I will send her word, but you can also tell her if you want to. How does the day after tomorrow sound?" Lady Adelaide told Yassia. She was certainly looking forward to their little 'ladies' tea party of sorts. She could certainly use some time away from the testosterone-high presence of his husband and sons, and just be with Yassia and Caitrin even for half a day.

”It is sweet of you to suggest that, Mylady, but I fear I might be hopeless.” The queen chuckled at the princess' response, but then only shook her head, not believing her at all. "I don't think you will be. You look like a pretty resilient damsel to me," she said, but then realized that Yassia might not truly be interested at all and that it may just be her polite way of declining the offer. She probably might prefer Edmund's company more than Oliver's. "Of course, only if you want to, my dear. I'm sure Oliver will be more than happy to teach you," she added with a smile.

Lady Adelaide had turned back to the duel at hand, which was turning rather heated...moreso like a real swordfight would. She had seen her sons duel like this, and even though she was starting to get rather nervous at the fierce way that Edmund was coming onto Oliver, she tried to keep her face as calm and stoic as possible. She could sense that something was wrong, and she wasn't liking it. Whatever it was that Oliver had said to Edmund, it sure caught the older brother into quite a tizzy. Lady Adelaide only shook her head at how quick Edmund's temper could get. It was never a good thing, she had told both her sons dozens of times, especially now when they are in a duel with dangerous weapons in their hands.

"OLIVER!!!!"

The queen's control slipped when Edmund's sword grazed Oliver's chest. She was about to rush to the middle of the field only to be beaten to it by someone else. Lady Adelaide belatedly realized the cry for Oliver had come from Yassia, and the princess had already dropped on her knees beside him, fussing over him and willing him to wake up. "Get Marcus!" Lady Adelaide had called out to the servant beside her. Marcus was the court physician, and he was desperately needed here now. She hadn't realized that her feet had taken her to the center of the grounds where a crowd had already gathered around her youngest son with the beautiful princess suddenly working frantically over him.

There was no mistaking the yearning in Yassia's voice when she gently urged Oliver to wake up, practically begged him to. This confused Lady Adelaide for just when she had thought that Yassia was only interested in Edmund, Yassia's words and actions towards Oliver told her that that may not easily be the case. Watching her rip a part of her sleeve off only fueled her suspicions. There is something between Yassia and Oliver. Whether it was mere friendship or not, she only wished she knew exactly what it was.

Edmund was just as stunned as everybody else was when he saw the color red spread across his brother's chest who was now lying on the ground before him. And before he even snapped out of his shock, he found Yassia to be all in distress in waking his brother up. He wasn't so sure what was going on right now, so he just watched with shocked silence as Yassia tore her sleeve up. "The court physician should be here any minute now," he said to no one in particular more to convince himself that his brother was going to be fine.

Oliver could feel the gentle hands cradling his head, could hear the soft voice calling him back to the surface, drawing him out. He could have easily succumbed to the darkness that had accompanied the surprising pain in his chest, but the hands and the voice had a much stronger hold on him. So strong that it was so hard to ignore. So he obeyed it and opened his eyes, and couldn't believe the beautiful sight that greeted him. "Yassia?" he said rather weakly. "What are you...? Why...?" Everything and everybody else around him had blurred into nothing. His eyes only saw Yassia and the worried look on her face. Somehow, it made the throbbing wound on his chest feel a little less painful, like his heart immediately healed it when it somersaulted for joy at Yassia’s presence, at Yassia’s touch.

"Give the prince some air! We need to move him inside!" Came the fierce voice of Marcus, the court physician, as a stretcher was being laid out beside Oliver. "We'll take it from here, princess," he told Yassia as a couple of knights lifted Oliver onto the stretcher.

"I can walk," Oliver started to protest as he slowly got up, but then winced when pain sliced his shoulder and made him slump back onto the stretcher. "Or maybe not," he added with a small chuckle, more to Yassia than to anybody else.

Shaking his head at Oliver's weak attempt at bravery, Marcus turned to the queen and to Edmund. "It's probably just a small wound. Oliver is strong, he'll be fine. I'll send word as soon as he's all properly treated," he reassured them as the knights slowly lifted the stretcher and started moving across the training grounds towards an entrance to the castle.

[Yassia Dyfrène de Ailantha]

Yassia inclined her head with a polite smile, but her eyes shone bright, telling how much she looked forward to this idea. Even if she had to disclose a few things in her heart so Lady Adelaide could never know and best also never even guess what Yassia was truly feeling, it surely would be a wonderful experience to talk with this woman and Caitrin. It was long since Yassia last had talked with a woman of Lady Adelaide’s renown and obvious wisdom. Talking to ladies of her age, even talking to Caitrin was just not the same.
”Then I will tell her as well, and the day after tomorrow sounds good to me!” There was nothing planned for this day yet as far as Yassia could tell, apart from maybe the odd rideout or other sociable pastime. Ever since having settled down somewhere again, Yassia had found it peculiar how many idle hours a day could actually contain if you didn’t spend them covering the road.

She wondered if her strong denial had been a little too much, too obvious in showing that she did not care spending time with Oliver? That could not be, they both needed to act as if nothing had ever passed between them, no animosities, no nothing. If she kept on keeping too much of a distance from him, that could arouse some questions too, yes?
Laughing and shaking her head about the ‘resilient damsel’, she said: “Well, yes, I certainly got a glimpse from what the world looks like outside the ivory tower. Actually… why not? I don’t think it could hurt. Maybe I’ll ask him myself.”
Oh treacherous heart indeed! She could try to tell herself she was only trying to appear neutral all she wanted, Yassia knew very well that she still was succumbing to the idle dream pictures she had conjured in her mind. Spending more time with Oliver… getting close to him again – oh what a pathetic creature she was!

In hindsight, Yassia could not even remember the few seconds it had taken her to rush to Oliver’s side and beg him to wake up. But as the shock died down, she realized herself again, and nearly gasped, thinking what she just had done. But there was no turning back now, and Oliver needed her help. The decreasing panic also helped her healer mind to kick in fully now, and she realized that Oliver’s wound gladly was not as life-threatening as she first had thought. The blood was not coming in waves from his body, it was a mere steady trickle as the sword had not sliced too deep. Tearing to wide the slice in his tunic the sword had already caused, she exposed the wound and pressed the torn fabric of her sleeve on it. White moss… she needed white moss!
”Somebody get my medicine bag, it’s in my room on the bed”, she called anyone who would feel inclined to follow this command, just as she heard the commanding voice of the physician coming closer.

Everyone immediately yielded to his commanding tone and took a few steps back, but Yassia stayed where she was, as Oliver just opened his eyes and addressed her.
"Yassia?""What are you...? Why...?"
His voice was full of amazement, and there was nothing of the scorn he usually felt for her. It was like these things had never happened between them at all, it was like not a day had passed since their parting in the woods. Oh if only that could be true!
”Shh… don’t speak”, she murmured gently. “You’re gonna be up and kicking again soon!” In this moment, she had dropped all her guard as she was too worried for him to hold it up. He was Oliver, she was Yassia… nothing more and nothing less, just like it had been in the Forest of Balor – only then with him bending over her, seriously wounded.

But then someone was invading the little bubble that had formed around her and Oliver. It was the physician again, demanding her to step aside and let the others ‘take over’. Her first reaction was as impulsive as it was probably wrong. “No!” Realizing her slip, she fought back a blush and hastily moved to her feet, trying to regain a little of her dignity by smoothening out her dress. Then she held her head high, her voice subconsciously adopting that one certain regal tone she had been raised with, which did not allow any opposition.
”I mean: No, please let me come with you. I am not only a princess, I am a healer, taught by my mother from a very young age. I have treated such wounds before, please let me be of assistance. I cannot stand by and do nothing… it is in my blood.”
It might be so that her upbringing might not let her stay behind with everyone else, including Lady Adelaide who surely now needed consolation, but it was as good an excuse as any for the truth: This was not any man lying there on the stretcher, it was Oliver, and Yassia would only be at peace as long as she assured with her own eyes and hands that he would be fine.

That he still felt the need to prove himself was a good sign indeed, and Yassia dared a little smile. “Enough stupid bravery for one day, my prince. Please keep down.” Then she turned to Lady Adelaide and Prince Edmund, bowing her head. “With your kind permission as well, I would like to help your son and your brother.” But without waiting for their approval, her eyes already followed the men that carried Oliver inside.

[Oliver Strathmore of Mercia]

”Somebody get my medicine bag, it’s in my room on the bed”

Edmund turned to a female servant standing nearby and told her to do as the princess said. The servant obediently turned and disappeared through the crowd not soon after. How Yassia had come to be in possession of a medicine bag was beyond Edmund. Could she be a healer? Of all the things he had expected her to be, that wasn't certainly one of them. The thought even compounded his current confusion about her reaction towards the mishap, towards Oliver in particular. It seemed like they are more than just mere acquaintances. Yassia looked very worried. Edmund shrugged off any disturbing thoughts though, and attributed that to the fact that Oliver and Yassia might have bonded during the travel to Mercia. It wouldn't be surprising seeing as they have a common friend in the Lady Caitrin.

”Shh… don’t speak. You’re gonna be up and kicking again soon!”

Oliver gave a small but hearty chuckle. The irony of the situation he and Yassia were in right now was not lost to him. There she was comforting him like the healer that she was. How easily reversed their roles had become. Unlike when they were in the forest of Balor a year ago where she was technically his patient, now she was in her element, as the rightful healer, fussing over a patient, fussing over him. And not surprisingly, he was liking every minute of it.

Oliver knew he ought to wave her aside and just let Marcus take over as was customary. But he had heard her adamant refusal to stand back, and then composed herself to reason out that she was in fact a healer. She sounded so proud and so confident that even Marcus had to give in and give her a small bow as his consent, albeit a rather amazed one. Not one of them had expected Yassia, Princess of Ailantha, to be knowledgeable in the arts of healing. Who would have guessed indeed? And even though he already knew, it even took Oliver awhile to process it himself.

Of course, she was doing this because she was a healer. He reaction had been than of a worried 'healer.' Nothing more. Oliver had to stop his thoughts from going places knowing Yassia couldn’t have rushed to his side for anything else but for her objective healer mind. How stupid it was of him to believe that she, Yassia, was genuinely worried and concerned for him. He had lost that privilege the night he had lashed at her. He had lost her. She was merely being a responsible healer like Marcus.

When he heard Yassia ask permission from his mother and from Edmund to also go to the infirmary, Oliver couldn’t help the small leap that his treacherous heart made. He wanted so much to believe that there was something there, something still left in her heart for him. He may just as well keep fooling himself. Nothing good would come out of it anyway. She was meant for Edmund, and he could never stand in the way.

“Why, yes, of course, princess. I would appreciate whatever help you can give my son,” Lady Adelaide gushed, worry written in her eyes at the sight of Oliver lying all helpless and in pain. Perhaps that was just it. The princess was a healer after all. That explains her reaction to the unfortunate incident that had befallen Oliver, the queen reasoned with herself. But no matter how she tried to rationalize it, something was still nagging at the back of her head with regards Oliver and Yassia, and she was determined to get to the bottom of it.

Edmund, for his part, only nodded his head, quiet and thoughtful. “Thank you,” was all he said to Yassia as he watched his brother being carried back into the castle with Marcus leading the way.

As Oliver was being settled into the infirmary, Marcus turned to the princess. “The wound doesn’t look too deep. We need to stop the bleeding. Unfortunately, I am out of white moss…” he said rather worriedly as he started going through his own stock of supplies to find what he can substitute for the herb just as the female servant came in with Yassia's medicine bag.



OOC: Please go ahead and godmod Marcus. Relegate him to the sidelines or whatever. LOL

[Yassia Dyfrène de Ailantha]

Everything was going to be alright. Of course it would. She shouldn’t fear for him so much, she shouldn’t fear for him at all! Oliver had rejected her, had insulted her in the meanest of ways, and Yassia had sworn to herself she would never forgive him. And she would not. But these were exceptional circumstances, were they not? He was injured, he needed her help. She would do the same to anyone, like for example for Edmund, there was nothing special to her care. And yet, why had her heart nearly stopped when she saw him falling to the ground? Would it have stopped the same way for any other? She tried to tell herself so, but she was not very succesful with it.
Oliver’s chuckle futher reassured her that he would be alright soon. It was more a question of his wound getting infected than a serious damage. To hinder that, they would have to clean it soon, but that was better done inside, in an infirmary.

Avoiding the questioning and astonished gazes she was getting from all around – clearly, they had not imagined she could be anything else but a pretty face – Yassia then turned to Lady Adelaide. Now Oliver was taken care of the best way there could be for now, she knew she had to look after the witnesses of this accident. Edmund seemed rather shocked himself, but he would cope fine. Lady Adelaide however looked worried and helpless, and Yassia wanted to reassure her. It pained her to see the strong and kind woman so distressed.
”He will be fine”, she said firmly with a reassuring smile playing around her lips, and she quickly squeezed Lady Adelaid’s arm. “He’s a strong young man and the cut is not too deep. The one thing that could endanger him now is an infection coming from the blade itself, but we’re working against that. You can see him soon, I promise.”

With that, Yassia turned and hurried after the stretcher, her mind already running two miles a minute, and sadly not only occupied with the task of healing, but with the patient himself. Her own reaction had deeply disturbed her, and now she had a little time to try and think about it. If her animosity and anger could have been brushed away so easily at the sign of danger, was it really running so deep then? And shouldn’t it run deeper? It was a crime to not help those in need, but as soon as the court physician had arrived she should have stepped back like he asked her to. This was not her place, it shouldn’t be. And yet she couldn’t shake off the yearning to be at his side. It was all too confusing, two emotions and wills battling inside her, and none could really win out. Or if it did something told her it was the wrong decision. Would there be even a right decision in all of this? Maybe it was two wrongs all along, and she could only choose the lesser evil. What would be the lesser evil?
Simply too many question and too little answers, even though she didn’t have neither the nerves nor the time for any of this. She had a patient to take care of. Oliver…

She was gladly forced back into the here and now by Marcus, the physician, who addressed her as soon as the knights had settled the stretcher with Oliver down on a table that seemed just made for such kind of incidents.
”Do not worry, I do have a fair amount of white moss with me”, she told him with a tense smile, being reminded about the reason for this fact. After her incident with Oliver, she had made sure to have enough white moss tugged away in her medicine bag, just to be prepared for anything. “It’s in my medicine bag which should be here any—“
A tentative knock interrupted them and as Yassia opened it, a servant girl shyly presented her the very needed medicine bag. With a thankful smile she took it and started to unpack the marten hide with its many pouches and pieces of cloth that could be used for bandages.

Taking one particularly large pouch, she poured pieces of white moss into her hand and walked over to where Oliver was. “Can you remove your shirt?” she asked, trying hard not to blush. “It’ll make things easier.”
Easier for him maybe, but oh so not easier for herself. Only in some of her very scandalous and ridiculous daydreams, she has seen any of this, not in reality. To distract herself from a so very topless Oliver, she then turned to Marcus again.
”As you said, the cut is not too deep, so I don’t think we need comfrey. Do you have marigold blossoms? I have dried ones but they are better fresh – as you probably know very well”, she finished with a little nervous laugh. Hopefully he wouldn’t feel patronized by her! “I use a decoction of marigold blossoms to disinfect wounds, it’s far less painful than alcohol.” Even after all this time, the reminiscence of the pain could still make her pucker up her face and wince.

The physician smiled reassuringly. "Indeed I do have fresh marigold blossoms. Who knows what made me gather them this morning. I'll prepare the decoction, and I'll be behind that screen over there if you need me." He bowed his head and vanished out of sight, which left Yassia with no other choice than to return her attention to her patient.

[Oliver Strathmore of Mercia]

Oliver thanked the knights as they settled him into the infirmary. He have had quite a few brushes with the sword like this, but somehow this one was different from the others mainly because of his healer. Growing up, it had always been Marcus who would tend to his wounds, nurse him from a fever, or just prepare him medicines for whatever it was that was ailing him. It was always Marcus who would rush to his side at the slightest discomfort that he would express. He was still trying to get used to the fact that it was Yassia, not Marcus, who had come to help him this time, who had touched his face to comfort him, who had whispered sweet words to keep him conscious. And it amazed him how easily all of him had responded and obeyed her. Marcus had told him many times before that he could be quite the difficult patient at times, but he doubt he was that now. He just didn't have it in him to give Yassia anymore headaches or difficulties than what he had already caused her.

Why though? The answer was simple, Oliver knew. He wanted this healer. He wanter her. He wanted her to fuss over him with that worried but determined look on her face. He wanted her to care for him. He knew he didn't deserve it, but a big part of him still wished that she too wanted this, not because she was a healer but because of what they once had before.

He heaved a deep sigh and tried to ignore the throbbing pain in his chest as the knights left him. He could hear Marcus and Yassia talk about white moss, and his mind immediately brought him back to his first meeting with Yassia. His servant Lot had to go looking for some white moss because she had none, and Oliver had been so worried that he might not be able to help treat the arrow wound that he himself had caused. That had been one wonderful moment, one that he kept cherished inside his heart.

“Can you remove your shirt?”

A mischievous grin almost appeared on his lips at the thought of going topless in front of Yassia, but he stopped it altogether belatedly realizing that the circumstance now where different than before. No, she was just being a good and professional healer, he reminded himself again. Oliver nodded and moved to take his shirt off only to let out a small yelp of pain from the cut on his left shoulder. He took another deep breath, and slowly pushed himself up but then fell on the table again as another flash of pain sliced his shoulder again. Helplessly, he turned to Yassia. He had been much too preoccupied with trying to take his shirt off that he had not noticed where Marcus had went off to. "I can't, maybe Marcus can help?" he spoke as he tried to tug on his shirt with his right hand. "Or maybe we can just cut it right down the middle?"

Believe it or not, he was suddenly growing nervous and a bit panicky at the thought that he was now alone with Yassia. He hadn't prepared himself for this eventuality. He had never expected to be alone with her again after their agreement in Camelot. Feeling rather helpless and desperate, he turned to her. "I don't mean to be an inconvenience. You know you don't have to do this, Yassia," he said, his voice gentle and apologetic. He didn't even realize he had called her by her name and not her title. He felt guilty for all that he had done to her now that it seemed she had pushed all his faults aside to help him. It wasn't that he didn't want her help, he just didn't want her to feel obligated to treat him because she was a healer.

[Yassia Dyfrène de Ailantha]

As soon as Marcus vanished behind the screen, the knot in Yassia’s stomach tightened considerably. He might only be out of sight, but he also was a little out of earshot, which meant she was practically alone with Oliver… yet again, even though after their last encounter it hadn’t seemed like that would never be the case again. What was fate thinking throwing this obstacle in both their ways now, just as they were starting to settle down apart from each other? But who was she fooling, such things didn’t work out inside a day. It probably would take long for her to truly forget Oliver, and longer than her stay in Mercia would be anyway. The best thing for both of them would be the classical ‘out of sight, out of mind’ – and yet that didn’t work out at all. Right in the moment when their raw wounds started to close a little,something happened to tear them open again, making them bleed again. Being mistreated like this, these wounds were sure to leave nasty scars, instead of healing properly.
So what was she doing here? Why had she felt this great urge to be the one to treat him? Was it only because the heart was truly slow to learn? Or was it some twisted way of the stars pushin her into this direction? Yassia could never really tell the way of the stars, her own lifestory had become too confusing to see a clear-set path in it.

But she also could not stand around idly and curse her fate. No matter what Oliver had done to her, he needed her help now, and she would give it. If only to repay him for once saving her own life. The situation now was not so dire, but she was under impression she already had paid part of her dues by being so mistreated by him anyway. Gathering the little pads of white moss, she put them next to his head, so she would have them ready, and tried to force a neutral smile on her face. It was hard. Oliver always had this dizzying effect on her which ended with her wanting to beam like two suns at the same time, she simply could not help it. Only the reminiscence of him calling her a two-faced harlot managed to keep that smile down.

It was obvious he was in too much pain to move much, and Yassia remembered the feeling all too well. Impulsively, he hand reached out to his other shoulder to keep him down, but as soon as her fingers made contact, she retracted them again as if she had been burned. What was she doing?!
”Alright, keep down”, she sighed. “We will have to do this a different way.” To stop the bleeding it was best if he was still lying down anyway, only later for the cleaning and dressing of the wound, he would have to sit up. For a short moment Yassia really debated if she should call Marcus, as what she was about to do was so unseemly for a woman. She should not even be present when a man that was neither her brother nor husband was topless, and she surely should not be the one undressing him! But then, she was a healer, and her mother had told her countless times that you could not waste any thoughts on courteous behavior once you had a patient.

”As Marcus is occupied right now, I will do it”, Yassia told Oliver matter-of-factly, trying desperately to sound as if this meant nothing to her at all. Gladly he hand didn’t tremble as she took a knife from her belt, the very same knife he had cut the arrow out with.
”You should have thought about that before you let yourself being staked by your brother”, she said, but her tone was not sharp, even a little teasing. He just had this way of getting under her skin… as soon as he called her ‘Yassia’. It was his personal siren’s call, and she had never been able to resist it.
”Now, keep very still, breathe only shallow, I don’t want to slice you”, she murmured as she placed the blade to the tear in his shirt, lifting it off the wound so she would not get in close proximity to his skin. Once she had broadened the gab enough, she pulled with more force and with a distinctive ripping sound the shirt came apart, revealing his muscular chest.

”Grit your teeth”, she warned softly, then pressed the pads of white moss to his wound.

[Oliver Strathmore of Mercia]

Feeling totally useless and helpless like never before in his life, Oliver just lay there waiting for whatever was Yassia's next move. Well, technically, he was not totally helpless, but somehow part of him just wanted her to take control, wanted her to have her way with him. For once after their second meeting, he was not going to be difficult, he was not going to fight her. One, because he was too weak and tired from his duel with Edmund, and two, because he honestly wanted this.

”As Marcus is occupied right now, I will do it.”

Oliver wasn't so sure how to respond to that declaration. To have Yassia assist him in taking his top off, well...that was totally unexpected. He felt his heart beat double time when he saw her take a knife from her belt. He had seen that blade before, even handled it himself when he used it to take the arrow out of her wound when their roles had been reversed a year ago. His eyes flickered towards hers wanting to see if they would show any hint of recognition, of her remembering their past. If Yassia felt any, Oliver didn't see it, and somehow he felt his spirits drop a notch. Perhaps, she had completely closed that book as he had told her to.

”You should have thought about that before you let yourself being staked by your brother.”

Oliver shook his head. He didn't know if Yassia was trying to avoid it, but that was not what he meant by what he said. "I don't mind being staked by my brother. What I meant was you yourself, you don't have to do this. Marcus can just as well treat a small wound by himself." And before she could misconstrue his words as ungratefulness or him pushing her away again, he reached out and gently grabbed her hand. "But thank you. I really appreciate you going out of your way to help me. It's not every day that I get fussed over by a beautiful and able healer." He wasn't exactly flirting now, was he? He had always known that he would find it difficult to keep his own end of their deal, and he could feel his resolve slipping now. But he thought it was important for him to tell Yassia how much he appreciated her effort, that he was not ungrateful at all.

When she told him to keep very still, Oliver did as he was told. She had a knife poised over him, over the wound near his heart to be exact, one move and she could very well drive that sharp weapon right into him. What was weird was he knew he probably wouldn't stop her. He knew he deserved her anger after all that he had said and done to her. He wouldn’t blame her if she as much as threaten to off his life. At the sound of the ripping cloth, Oliver breathed with relief that Yassia had not decided to kill him after all. And he tried not to think so much about the fact that she had just torn his shirt off. A few women had done that to him before, but they were not exactly healers like Yassia--he stopped his thoughts right there. He didn't want to entertain the strong and vivid image of Yassia tearing his clothes off for reasons other than to treat a wound.

”Grit your teeth”

"Why? You think I'd--AAWW!" Oliver hissed in pain when the white moss made contact with his open wound. A curse was threatening to burst from him but Oliver bit his lips down hard to keep it from coming out. He shut his eyes and slammed his head back against the table as the wave of pain ran over his shoulders. A small groan issued from him as he rode the pain over. A few seconds after, when he felt the stinging pain start to die down, he opened his eyes and looked at Yassia. "Go easy on me please, Yass," he said breathlessly. Yes, he deserved this pain all right.

[Yassia Dyfrène de Ailantha]

Oliver seemed oddly quiet and composed, some character trait she had not experienced with him very often. Whether they had been teasing or insulting each other, there had always been vivid talking and action going on; this was something new for Yassia and she was not sure yet what to make of it. Maybe that came with their mutual agreement of trying to keep their distance. Silence probably was the best means to uphold said distance, as any conversation so far had brought them close, whether they liked it or not. And yet, it was not a thick silence, it might be a bit awkward, but that was about it, and awkwardness under these circumstances was perfectly normal.
Then Oliver replied and saved her from overthinking this encounter too much.

"I don't mind being staked by my brother. What I meant was you yourself, you don't have to do this. Marcus can just as well treat a small wound by himself."
These words surprised her not just a little. So now he suddenly cared about her discomfort? Hadn’t he made it more than clear that she deserved everything that was thrown her way? Wasn’t she a two-faced harlot, a liar and a player, who would readily suck the marrow out of everyone who dared to come too close? But maybe that was the truth behind his words after all, he was too polite to tell her to go straight away, so he sugar-coated it with concern. Now, who was the two-faced one? She opened her mouth to give a rather stern reply, when he suddenly reached for her hand. She gasped a little, but she didn’t retract. Now… what?! He had just made her new-found resolution collapse again like a house of cards. If he wanted her to go, why did he take her hand? Why did he want to touch her again anyway?
And… he had called her beautiful. Stop this, Oliver… stop playing games with me…

“It’s what everyone should do who has the means”, she warded off his praise rather awkwardly. “I couldn’t very well stand by. Besides… you did the same for me, even though you weren’t sure you could do it. That is worth far more.”
When she was working on his shirt, Yassia subconsciously held her breath along with him, forcing her hand to work as steady as it actually could. For a completely crazy moment, she imagined herself in a different situation, also with a knife in hand. She remembered how she had thrown the dagger at him the other day, in that split second really willing to hurt him, if not kill him. She had been completely consumed by anger and hurt, and it could have happened in the blink of an eye. And now he was at her mercy once again. She could make him pay, inflict the same pain on him he had inflicted on her, if not with a real blade. But as she looked at him, completely composed, trusting her with his life, even though he knew what he had done, she knew she was crazy for even considering it.
The moment passed, and she was glad it was gone.

"Why? You think I'd--AAWW!"
Had Oliver not been in so much pain, Yassia probably would have laughed about so much false bravery. But that could come later. In the moment Oliver’s distress was far more important. She had been prepared for him rearing up, her left hand holding his other shoulder down the minute her right hand had afflicted the moss, but he only tensed and slammed his head back.
“Shhh… “ she crooned, but then a slight smile crept over her lips and she chuckled. „Why do men never listen? I told you to grit your teeth for a reason. I’m sorry it hurt so much, but it’s necessary.”
For some reason she could not explain, her left hand still lingered on his shoulder, even though she knew he would not rear.
Yass… had he ever called her by this nickname? If so, she could not remember, and it felt oddly wrong and right at the same time. There was something in his eyes, a pleading that called her to hold his gaze for longer than she probably should have.

“Do you think you deserve me going easy on you, Olivier?”, she asked, sounding his name in her own tongue for another hazy reason. “Foolish boy that you are… you could have gotten yourself killed!”
She had not meant to sound so concerned an monishing, she had meant to say anything along that line at all. But somehow she had… and it confused her probably even more than it would confuse him.

[Oliver Strathmore of Mercia]

“I couldn’t very well stand by. Besides… you did the same for me, even though you weren’t sure you could do it. That is worth far more.”

So that was all there was to it, Oliver thought crestfallen. Yassia came to his aid to repay what he had done for her. How stupid of him to try and put more meaning into her action today. What she said only confirmed his own thoughts. She was merely acting out of her healer instincts, of what was expected of her, and not necessarily of what she wanted to do. Still, Oliver was thankful no matter her motive or lack of it. "It was my fault. I should have paid more attention." Oliver could just as well be talking about his fight with Edmund. "I didn't have the heart to just leave you there all hurt and in pain because of my incompetence. I had to help you." This time though it was clear that he had meant their time together, which was, is, and always will be special to him. He shuddered at the thought of what could have happened to Yassia in that forsaken forest if he hadn't helped her. Of course, there was never a question to that. Oliver would have come to anybody's aid. Whether it was fortunate or unfortunate that it was Yassia whom he had hit with his arrow, he didn't really know anymore now. At first, he had thought it very fortunate to have met her. She had made him a changed man. But to see where fate has brought them now, Oliver just wanted to curse out loud at how cruel life really is--to him, in particular. Was this punishment for all his shenanigans before?

When she soothed him from the pain and teased him about not listening, he gave her a small smile. Her voice, her laughter, it was too sweet and kind, it hurts so much more than the wound. But he didn't let the pain show in his face nor in his eyes. He was going to indulge in whatever little thing that this moment would give him. With the current state of their relationship, Oliver would be most grateful to get even the littlest thing he could get from Yassia--like the glorious feel of her comforting hand on his shoulder.

Olivier. "Olive tree," he whispered with a small smile as he turned his head away from her and towards the ceiling before closing it. Olivier. The sound of his name in her own tongue was like music to his ears, and already he felt alive and well, energized and rejuvenated like she had just cast some sort of instant healing spell over him. At her tender admonition, Oliver couldn't help but look at her with a tender look in his eyes. "Edmund wanted to impress you. He should have chosen one of the knights if he wanted to show you a good fight," he said with a smile. Then he remembered what his brother had told him before they had even begun the duel, about Yassia needed help for her country. "He told me about your uncle. As soon as I'm out of this table, I'll start working on a proposal to present to the council in the next meeting." Even though he was talking about official matters of the kingdom, Oliver's voice was anything but official. It was sincere and heartfelt. He knew he would do anything, anything at all, for Yassia.

[Yassia Dyfrène de Ailantha]

"I didn't have the heart to just leave you there all hurt and in pain because of my incompetence. I had to help you."

Well, what had she been expecting, really? Back then, in the forest in had seemed like a happenstance forged by the stars that she had been hit by his arrow, something she didn’t understand for now but soon would. At the end of the night, she had though it to be a signal from the stars that there were men in this world who could love her, that her fate was not without hope. But now? They had met again, and it had not brought them together, but even further apart. Could that have been meant all along? Where was the sense in that? Only to cause her more pain, throw more difficulties on her already overloaded plate?
Ruefully she thought back on that one second, when she had wished on a star to meet him again: No matter the time, no matter the circumstances… well that had worked out well indeed. What was the old saying? Be careful what you wish for… her father had been right all along. What she had seen in Oliver had been wishful thinking, even back then he had only been driven by his guilty conscience and maybe by the spur of the moment. He was a man, she was a woman – how foolish of her to think of love, no matter what they had said to each other!

”Well… I saw you had a noble heart from the start”, she mused, her voice not bitter but a little resigned. “I’ve been blind to not read the signs, seeing you for who you really were. Could have spared me a lot of trouble.”
Oh yes, a lot of trouble indeed. She had lost a year, a year of waiting and hoping, a year where her uncle could tighten his grip on Ailantha and further make it his own, working to make her people forget there had been any other claiming the throne. And she had lost Oliver… because of her own cowardice. Instead of preserving the present, she should have worked towards the futute. And now it was too late.

But if he thought so little of their time together, why did he always bring it up again? Why keep tormenting them both? Hadn’t he been the one to draw a line, hadn’t he been the one saying they should act as if they never met? And yet he once again mentioned the Olive tree…
”Yes”, she replied softly, unable to stay nonchalant. There was just too much that time could not erase, however hard they all tried. “And the thistle… look, how she’s stinging you yet again.” She pointed to her hand still pressing the moss to his wound. Letting go a sigh, she tugged a strand of hair behind her ear to buy time, until she could decide what to answer to his unexpected revellation. Edmund had meant to impress her? Why on earth? Ans why with such means?
”Well, then he is even more foolish than you are, because I’m surely not impressed by the mess he created here”, she told him matter-of-factly, shrugging. “Nearly staking his own brother, he thinks that will get him in my good books? What a twisted mindset!”

Of course she knew Edmund had not meant to injure Oliver at all, but she still couldn’t quite fight down her irritation. She had told Oliver before that she didn’t strive to be impressed or fawned over, and this was just another example. Just an inch more to the left or a little deeper, and she now would not treat Oliver, but mourn him. All this for a little good impression? That was surely not worth it!
She didn’t have much time to think more about these things however, for Oliver’s next proposal left her quite speechless. After all he had said about her, after all he had done, he was still willing to help her? Or would he only do it, so she would vanish faster from his life? No… she simply could not accuse him of such base motives!
”Thank you…” It was no more but a whisper, and she couldn’t help but hold his gaze, wondering if the tenderness she saw there was true. “But the priority is now for you to rest and get well again. Nothing could be more important than that, certainly not I.”
Why was she saying that? Couldn’t she even trust her own tongue anymore? That was not the distance they had both agreed on!

[Oliver Strathmore of Mercia]

“I’ve been blind to not read the signs, seeing you for who you really were. Could have spared me a lot of trouble.”

There was no note of anger or bitterness in her voice, and yet her words hit Oliver like a ton of bricks against his chest, like a thousand daggers piercing his heart, never to heal again. They hurt him more than Edmund's sword has. "Do you really mean that?" he couldn't stop himself from asking. He had to know for sure eventhough he wouldn't be surprised if she said yes after all that he had done to her. "Do you regret our time in the Forest of Balor? Do you wish you hadn't met me at all?" 

If only Yassia knew how much that fateful moment had affected him, how it had changed him. Oliver had stuck to the vow he had made with her with sheer devotion and loyalty, never wavering from it. If only. Now he wished he had not made that vow at all. For without it, he would have already taken her away, not caring what Edmunds wants and needs. If she would show even the slightest hint that she wanted him, he would take her away, to hell with his brother and his family. But he had made that vow. And it all made the difference.

"The thistle could never sting an olive tree, not this olive tree. That thistle will always be a special part of the olive tree no matter what happens." That was the least oliver could say to at least tell Yassia that he has not forgotten  their past, that he still held the memory dear to him despite everything. He wouldn't expect her to say the same, he didn't expect her to say anything at all. He just wanted her to know.

”Well, then he is even more foolish than you are, because I’m surely not impressed by the mess he created here. Nearly staking his own brother, he thinks that will get him in my good books? What a twisted mindset!”

Oliver felt himself panicking at her words this time. The last thing he wanted was to put a wide gap between his brother and Yassia. It had been an accident. Nothing more. "Yassia, you have to forgive Edmund. He didn't mean it. It's all part of duels. Please don't hate him like that," he implored her. He inwardly curse his brother for letting his temper get the best of him. That was always Edmund's weakness. Both of them can be hotheads, but Edmund was more infamous for his quick temper than Oliver. His brother needed to know how to reign it in if he wanted to get in Yassia's good graces.

He held her gaze when she did, and managed a smile when she expressed her concern for his condition more. He loved the feeling that washed over him at the thought of Yassia caring for him like that, but then told himself that he shouldn't read more into it. She was only being a good healer. You are more important than anything to me, Yassia. Wounded or not, he would go through hell and high water for Yassia. "With you as my healer, I feel better already," he told her instead. "When you find the time, you will have to tell me more about Ailantha, about your uncle. There are books in the library that I could read, but I will need a more personal account of the situation there--" Then he stopped himself with a chuckle. It certainly sounded like he was making an excuse to spend more time with her. 

Now, if that were the case, he needed to get something out of the way first. "Yass, I know I said we need to keep our distance from each other, but with Edmund's request..." He wasn't sure how to say it without making it sound like he was forced into helping her. He wasn't. He wanted to do it more than anything in this world. "...can we at least be friends?" He knew he can't expect her to say yes right away after all the hurt he had caused her, but he knew he was going to work hard for it. "I know I don't deserve it, but please give me a chance." to be her friend, that wasn't what he had in mind really. He wanted to hold her, wrap her in his warm embrace, kiss her, and give her all the loving that she deserved and needed. But a friendship was all that he could ever ask from her now.

[Yassia Dyfrène de Ailantha]

"Do you really mean that?" "Do you regret our time in the Forest of Balor? Do you wish you hadn't met me at all?"

Yassia furrowed her brows in confusion. What?! How could Oliver ever think such a thing? He had gotten it completely wrong!
“Nononono!” she exclaimed impulsively, her face depicting shock, before the trained mask of courtesy slipped over her face again. “How could you say that? I meant…” she took a deep breath to gather her thoughts. Yes, what had she meant at all? How could she possibly word it without sounding like she was throwing herself at him? She was not! There could be no question of that! She was not any girl he could treat like scum and then with just a smile she would be at his feet again… that’d be the day! And yet… “I meant myself! I meant… if I had known who you were, I would not have hesitated to tell you my true story. But I was a coward. Had I told you… things might have been different.” But then, he had not been honest as well, she would not take the full blame. “I do not regret anything… you should know that.” That was as far as she would go.

What was happening here? Hadn’t they called it all but quits? Hadn’t she said she was through with him once and for all? And hadn’t he said no one could know what happened. She had thought he wanted to forget it, and here they were, sharing inside jokes and insinuations only they could understand. No matter what happens? Wasn’t that straining it a little far?
“Well then the thistle is glad”, she replied a little awkwardly. “But the thistle lives to prick others… she might just not be satisfied with an immune olive tree.” It was not good to lose yourself in metaphors, it could easily happen you got tangled up in things you never wanted to say, feeling too safe with these images. But what else could she say? It was so hard to speak against what her heart wanted. But what her heart wanted had never been of any consequence, and it was about time she finally learned that lesson.

And again Oliver was acting as his brother’s advocate, at least that was the impression Yassia was slowly getting. What did he want to achieve? One minute he was reminding her of their past together and the next he begged her not to hate his brother. Who could ever make sense of this? Certainly not her!
“Of course I do not hate Edmund”, she replied a little irritated. “But he went too far. I don’t know what happened but he suddenly seemed angry, and anger is never a good counsel.” She of all people should know. “You both were reckless… and nothing should be more important to Edmund than keeping you safe, even in a duel. Nothing!” she repeated forcefully.

Principally, she had nothing against telling Oliver more about her situation in person. The question only was: would he believe her? He still hadn’t apologized for calling her a liar, and even if his behavior suggested differently, in everything he had done in this encounter so far, the sting of pain still remained, and the doubt.
“Personal experience is always better”, she agreed with a smile. “Then, I would also be interested in these books… what they tell about my family and my kingdom. If there’s any truth in it”, she winked. Who would write a book about different dynasties anyway? Everything she knew about Albion had been told by her mother… and in all honesty she would have been glad for more information.
“Just set a date… and I’ll tell you everything I know.”

And then it came… the unbelievable. Friends?! Give him a chance?! He was damned right in thinking he didn’t deserve any! At least not on first sight! Everything he said and did had all but suggested he didn’t even want any chances with her. And now he suddenly did want one?! What was the name of the game he was playing?! He should at least have the decency to tell her that!
But his eyes… so full of honesty, so imploring… could he really have ill intentions looking like that?
Holding his gaze, she moved these thoughts in her head. The question was not so much whether or not they still could be friends – she would have to be content with anything he gave her, really - , but rather if she could refrain much longer from granting him this chance.

She couldn’t. “Of course we can be… friends.” How bleak this word sounded… and yet it was all she ever could hope for, and more than she HAD actually hoped for. “I mean… we could try, can’t we?”

[Oliver Strathmore of Mercia]

The look on her face told him everything. She was obviously appalled at what he had said and was trying her best to make him understand what she had meant. He had misunderstood, and the fact that Yassia took pains to right his misconception was more than enough to lift the burden off his heart. Oliver sighed with relief and allowed himself to breathe easy. Sure, he had accused Yassia of lying to him, of playing with his feelings, but why was it so important for him to know that their first meeting mattered to her as well? Oliver need not search his mind and heart long for the answer. He knew and felt that Yassia was anything but the things he had accused her of. There was no question of the truth at the onset. He just felt betrayed when he found out about it, a feeling that was starting to wane anyway. Right now, Oliver would do anything to right the wrongs he had done to her. "I hadn't been truthfully honest myself," Oliver found himself admitting. "I guess I was just tired of women wanting me because I'm a prince. Not that you would...I mean, I wanted to be treated for who I am, not for what I am. I guess I'm the bigger coward." They were both at fault then. Oliver couldn't help but curse inwardly at how unfortunate things had turned out for them.

"But the thistle lives to prick others, she might just not be satisfied with an immune olive tree."

"At the moment though, the olive tree is not totally immune. Very weak, in fact." Very weak indeed, for while Oliver was drawing all his strength from Yassia, she was his weakness as well. Whatever she would say or do would always have a profound effect on him. There was no denying that. That was what was making this all hard for him to battle with. He had to remain a true and dutiful son of Mercia, a loyal brother to Edmund, but it was so hard when his heart and mind screamed of nothing but Yassia. But then again he must try. He made a vow after all.

Oliver had caused Edmund's anger to flare up, but it wasn't his intention to. Sure, he had been stricken with a flash of jealousy then, but he had not expected his brother to act as brashly as he did. Still, he had to advocate for him. Oliver's loyalty was to his brother, not to his traitorous heart. "It's merely a scratch, is it not?" he replied, trying to calm her down. His hand moved to cover hers that was still holding down the white moss over his wound, as his eyes met and held hers. While it touched him to see her react so strongly against what his brother did, he cannot allow it. He wanted to tell himself that this was all because she really cared for him, but he can't hope for more. "No harm done. It will heal in no time. A day or two maybe, right?"

"Just set a date and I'll tell you everything I know."

How about every minute of everyday starting right now? Oliver actually wished Edmund had struck him harder that it would take days or weeks, maybe even months, for him to heal. That way Yassia would be at his side everyday, taking care of him, fussing over him, lightheartedly bantering with him. Of course, it was nothing but wishful thinking. "The next council meeting will be in a couple of weeks. Maybe we could meet everyday at the library if you like--or on certain days depending on what Edmund has planned for you." As much as Oliver would like to monopolize Yassia all to himself, he knew he couldn't. Edmund would probably even be joining them in these meetings anyway.

Oliver was practically standing on the edge of a cliff, throwing all care and caution to the wind when he asked--no, begged her to be friends. He had expected her to say no, to throw all his words back to his face about keeping the distance. Such was his surprise and glee when she said yes that he suddenly sat up, but then he hissed and dropped back onto the table again when an excruciating pain just as suddenly sliced across his chest at the sudden movement. "Dammit!" he said with a chuckle when the pain slowly died down, belatedly realizing that he had clutched her wrist a little too hard when the unexpected pain had come. "I'm sorry," he apologized when he released her arm and saw the red mark his fingers had made then. Unconsciously, he caressed the redness on her skin willing it to go away. "I didn't mean to hurt you..." his voice trailed as he realized what he was doing and saying. He looked at Yassia knowing that he hadn't really apoloized for all that he had done to her, for the hurtful and angry words that he had let loose on her. A simple sorry would never be enough, not even a thousand more. Now that he had been given a reprieve, he could start over again with her. He knew he wouldn't waste the chance he's been given.

"I know a simple apology will never be enough for you to forgive me, but...I'm sorry, Yassia, I'm really truly sorry--" He held his hand up to stop Yassia from replying just yet. "You don't have to say anything back. You don't even have to forgive me. I'm just happy to be given this chance again with you. This friendship is more than I could ever hope for. Thank you." To hell with keeping the distance, he was going to make the most out of this friendship since it was all that he was going to get. He will not be able to spend more time with her soon anyway. As soon as soon as Edmund makes his intentions towards Yassia known, and as soon as Yassia accepts it, Oliver knew that he would have to stay away, maybe even go away, to mend his broken heart. For now, he will take whatever he was given and indulge in it.

[Yassia Dyfrène de Ailantha]

His explanation was as simple as it was logical. Yassia had never had such a feeling, of not wanting to be seen as a princess, save once: when being with him in the Forest of Balor. There she had witnessed the very same thing like he tried to describe, and it had been one of her reasons for not telling him her true story. Could it really be he had felt the same way? What a completely horrible twist of fate! Yes, now that she thought about it, she remembered it all too well, how his eyes had gleamed when she had called him ‘a good man’. It must have been one of the few compliments he knew he had been given just for himself, his soul, his being, with no strings attached.
And yet… they were still who they were. With different people this simple revelation might have changed everything, might have been the ultimate reconciliation, the turning point for the better. But it was too late. Too much had happened.
“No one could blame you for that wish, Oliver”, she replied softly and sighed. “It is the curse we of royal blood have to live with, that we never know what people truly see in us, when all they see is the title. I didn’t expect it, but when I reached Camelot, I was a little sad of letting go of Yassia the nomad. I’ve never seen my life as a cage, but I can see someone thinking that.”

The bleeding had stopped now, which was a very good sign. It truly had been more a little flesh wound with no serious damage. He might be weak now, and in pain, but there needn’t be any fear. He was a strong young man, he would be up and fighting again in no time. Maybe even so little as two days.
“You’ll be stronger tomorrow, trust me”, she responded, wondering if she had only imagined this certain timbre in his voice that indicated to a different, a hidden meaning. But what else but his wound could he mean anyway? She was reading far too much into this encounter again, and that was dangerous.
The movement of his hand came unexpected, but it was not an entirely unpleasant surprise, which confused her more than his actual, almost intimate touch.
“Yes…” it was nothing but an almost hoarse whisper. “No harm done…” Was she meaning his wound or herself? She could not allow this madness any longer! This was going far too far! And yet his eyes kept her in the sweetest and most pleasant captivity, a captivity she never wanted to escape from ever again.

His sudden, unexpected movement broke the spell, as did the pain he inflicted on her wrist. Yassia gasped in surprise and pain, even though she knew it was happening involuntarily. “Keep down!” she exclaimed impulsively, but then had to surpress a chuckle. “Do you really want to sabotage me that bad? No worries… you didn’t hurt me.” Not with this anyway…
His touch was far too pleasing… she could not succumb to it! She let it happen for a few seconds, but then even if – or because? – it meant he had to let go of her hand, Yassia removed the white moss and cleaned the wound from any tiny remaints of it, so there would be no infection. “Good, even though you moved, the wound didn’t start bleeding again, that’s a very good sign. You’re right, a day or two and you’ll be as good as new.” Professionalism… that was all she could take refuge to now.

Only then she realized that his words about a daily meeting had completely passed her by in all these confusion that had assaulted her. How could she have forgotten about such an important thing?! This was the revocation of everything they had agreed on… and it was coming from him! Could she say no? She knew she should, as every hour spent alone with him would just bring her more pain, but then when it came to Oliver, she had always been a masochist.
“As for the meeting… yes, why not! Whenever there is nothing grand planned, we can meet there, and I… I will tell you about my kingdom.” The next council meeting was in a few weeks he had said… that was still some time off, but then she had waited more than a year. As long as she found help, everything would be fine.

With growing astonishment and confusion Yassia then listened to his words. An apology… an apology for what?! For his words? Was he really feeling sorry? It seemed to be that way… and yet she could not believe it, didn’t dare to believe it. She opened her mouth to say something, but Oliver stopped her, as he was not finished. Yassia didn’t like to be shushed, but she closed her mouth again and waited.
You don't even have to forgive me. I'm just happy to be given this chance again with you. This friendship is more than I could ever hope for. Thank you."
Forgive him? Yes, that was the crux of the matter. She had sworn to herself she would never forgive him… and yet he wasn’t even asking for forgiveness, he was asking for a chance… and thanked her for being granted this chance. She had never been in such a situation before, this was something neither her upbringing nor her journey could have taught her. She had to find out how to navigate through this one her own. But she had to be sure first.

“So… you don’t think that I am…” she took a deep breath. She remembered the exact wording of what he had called her, that was not the problem, it just pained her to speak these words out aloud. But she had to know. “… that I am a two-faced harlot, a liar and a heartless player?” Biting her lip, she looked away briefly to regain her composure. Even spoken by herself, knowing that they had been directed to her, hurt beyond imagination.

[Oliver Strathmore of Mercia]

It was both surreal and nice to be talking about their first meeting like this, to talk about the reasons behind their taken identities back then. Even if they weren't exactly talking about the very essence of that meeting, Oliver was somehow relieved to know that Yassia had understood his reasons for keeping his true identity a secret. He, too, was starting to accept Yassia's own reasons behind her pretending. Slowly but surely, he was coming to terms with it. He had to. He knew he can no longer bring back their wonderful moment together, bring back its emotions, but she was here and he would try his best to at least repair the damage he had done. Oliver knew too well that he and Yassia had such amazing chemistry together that it would all be a waste to just throw it all away. If he can't have her for himself, he would have to remain content with being her friend. "I try my best to shake off the title as much as I can, but you're right, we can never escape it. It sure feels more liberating to be somebody else. Though I know I can serve my people better if I would be a prince than anything else." Outside Mercia, Oliver had taken on this role many times and he couldn't be any happier. But since making his vow to Yassia, he was trying his best to take his roles and responsibilities as Second Prince of Mercia more seriously.

Oliver didn't know how to react to her reaction. She had exclaimed at the pain his grip had caused her, and yet she had tried to suppress a chuckle that Oliver found irresistibly endearing. Despite the two big white elephants in the room, both concerning the circumstances of their previous meetings, Oliver enjoyed this interaction with her now. She may sound all professional as the healer, but Oliver would gladly take whatever he was given if it came from Yassia.

“As for the meeting… yes, why not! Whenever there is nothing grand planned, we can meet there, and I… I will tell you about my kingdom.”

"I look forward to it. I would love to know more about you and your kingdom. I'll talk to Edmund, and I'll inform you as soon as we have finalized a date," he replied with a smile. Somehow, the thought of spending time with Yassia, talking and reading about Ailantha made him a tad bit giddy like a child on Christmas day. Suddenly, a rather mischievous thought came to his head. He wasn't going to tell Edmund about it. In fact, he will even make sure that Edmund is out of the castle on the day that he and Yassia would talk about Ailantha. There's no harm to it, is there? Oliver wasn't exactly going to snatch Yassia away from his brother, he just wanted to spend time alone with her, work on their friendship. Nothing more. Yes, nothing more, Oliver told himself, trying to convince himself that it was all just for friendship.

The words that came out of her mouth didn't surprise Oliver, even though they still hit him like a heavier ton of bricks. He had been waiting for her to bring it up, to throw it in his face, here it was. They were going to tackle one of the big white elephants in the room. Oliver took his time, his answer could make or break his seeming reconciliation with Yassia. He had to make this count. Not that the answer was hard. It was all too simple really. Oliver took her hand when she looked away, and willed her to meet his eyes. "No, I do not," he replied, his voice genuinely sincere and apologetic. There was no denying it now, and yet he can't tell her how betrayed he had been back then. He loved her, he still does, he always will.

But he can't tell her that. Not now, not ever. Somehow, he will have to find another way to make her understand his reaction back then. "The Yassia that I know is a kind and beautiful person inside out. And I knew, all along, that the Yassia who I had met again in Camelot, the Yassia who is here with me now, is one and the same person. I'm sorry for hurting you like that. I don't mean any of those words I said." He apologized yet again, his voice earnest, beseeching. Right now, he just wanted to take her in his arms and comfort her with a warm, loving embrace, show her how much he loved her. But he knew he can't. For whatever it's worth, he was truly remorseful for those words. "I know no amount of apologizing could heal the wound that I have inflicted on you, an even painful one than the arrow wound. But thank you for the chance, Yassia, I will work hard to fix what I had broken. I truly want to be your friend. Please..." ...my love.

[Yassia Dyfrène de Ailantha]

A smile that almost could called fond crossed Yassia’s face at Oliver telling his point of view. Really, that wasn’t talk that should come out of a prince’s mouth, but it just made Oliver who he was. The rebel. Hadn’t Edmund told her he was taking his duties far more serious now? That was a start, wasn’t it? And anyway, if he hadn’t felt this rebellious streak inside him, he would have never left the borders of his kingdom to hunt down cockatrices in the Forest of Balor. She would have never met him. Even though whatever they had had seemed to have failed, Yassia sill wouldn’t wish it undone. Within all the misery, within all the fear and the uncertainty, Oliver had given her the best day and night of her life. She had thought the memory tainted by his rude rebuke in Camelot, but slowly, after the shattered pieces had been cleared away, she found that it still shone bright and clear. Nothing could take these memories away from her, they would remain sacred forever. Impregnable.
”That is very true!” she agreed and nodded. “My father always said, the higher you stand, the greater is your burden, so be careful you don’t fall down. But if you want to get rid of the burden it will fall on those that carry you – and then you will fall for sure.”
She grinned. “He had a lot of those wise sayings. Most of the time I rolled my eyes and tried not to listen. Seems, a few stuck in my mind still.”

"I look forward to it. I would love to know more about you and your kingdom. I'll talk to Edmund, and I'll inform you as soon as we have finalized a date,"

Something still rubbed wrong in this arrangement, but it was not so much the fact that she would spend time with Oliver – alone. That would be trying enough, yet she still looked forward to it. No, it was the way Oliver talked about Edmund – and herself for that matter. I’ll inform you… That, with all due respect sounded like she was a criminal locked up in a cage, and Edmund was the one to decide whether she should be allowed visitors or not. Or like she was his ward and should be kept away from any male company. How ridiculous! Wasn’t SHE the master of her own time? And couldn’t Oliver do a step without having to ask for permission? In all her fourteen years of being second-born, Yassia had never experienced such a kind of submission. Was it different because she was a girl?
Still, she hid most of her irritation, and just teased Oliver with a wink: “Since when is your brother your keeper? Do you have to check everything you do with him? Did he also inform you beforehand he would wound you?” Then, however, she left the joking for another time to come. “Alright, I’ll keep myself ready. Hopefully what I know will make you see more clearly.”

She read the truth in his eyes before he voiced it, and yet the spoken words meant so, so much more! He could not make it undone, but he had shown every ounce of goodwill you could possibly demand, and that alone should be enough. Not to forgive him maybe, but to accept it as the fault it had been. He hadn’t meant it. Oh, she knew how it could happen you said words you didn’t mean in the slightest! She had done that often enough herself.
Kind and beautiful inside out… He surely knew how to put his words! Yassia held his gaze, almost unblinking, and tried to hold this moment tight, keep it for all eternity. This was as far as they would go. Unless he said otherwise. It was not like she needed his permission, but he had been the one pushing her away, and she would not run after him. Never. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t accept what was offered.

”You don’t have to work so hard, Oliver”, she contradicted him softly. Another person might have taken advantage of that promise, might have wanted to be waited on hand and foot, so the other could work for his redemption, but that had never been Yassia’s way of thinking. It didn’t even occur to her.
”Just be the honest and kind man I know, and then we will get on perfectly with each other. As friends”, she added, not wanting to give him any false impression, though her heart spoke an entirely different language. She wanted more than just simply be his friend. She wanted his love, his kisses, she wanted the siren’s call of his voice, speaking her name like lovers do. But she couldn’t say anything of that. Too many misunderstandings had already happened, and she didn’t want to relive the pain of these past few days ever again. “Because I, too, want to be your friend. Now… can you try and sit up? Or shall I help you with it?”

[Oliver Strathmore of Mercia]

It was not hard to see the high regard Yassia had for her father. Even back in the Forest of Balor, she had spoken about her father and his words with such reverence and adoration, it was hard not to see the love shine through. In essence, she's practically her father's daughter. And somehow it tugged Oliver's heart to remember that she had lost not just her father but all of her family too soon, very soon, and for her to have to go through such hardships at such a young age in her life. "Your father is indeed a wise man. Meeting him would have been a great honor and privilege," Oliver said. "It's not just his wise sayings that are stuck in your mind. Your father, he himself, you will always have him in your heart." Oliver could only wish he had the same relationship with his own father. Lord Bayard was, for all intents and purposes, a hard and, in a way, rather cruel man, a no-nonsense father. There was hardly a soft spot in him, save perhaps when it comes to his mother. He probably had his own wise sayings, but they were more for Edmund's consumption than for Oliver's. And Oliver didn't mind really. He had his own mother to teach him the ways of the world in a less harsh, down-to-earth and straightforward way.

“Since when is your brother your keeper? Do you have to check everything you do with him? Did he also inform you beforehand he would wound you?”

"Please don't take it the wrong way, princess," Oliver pleaded, once again rising to his brother's defense. Somehow, that had become the default way for him to act when it concerns Yassia and Edmund. "You are his guest, and I wouldn't want to intrude on any plans he might have already laid out for you." Her wink had been totally lost on him, and now Oliver was concerned that instead of helping his brother gain Yassia's nod, he was helping dig his grave instead. Even if it was against the beat and yearning of his own heart, Oliver had to do his duty. His feelings for Yassia were nothing compared to the welfare of the kingdom, of his people. He had to put them first before his own selfish wants and desires. And it wasn't until she acceded to him that Oliver finally heaved a relieved sigh.

”You don’t have to work so hard, Oliver.”

He wasn't quite so sure what to make of that.

”Just be the honest and kind man I know, and then we will get on perfectly with each other...”

He could feel his heart soar high above the clouds like it did a year ago when they had first met, when they had shared their first kiss.

"...As friends."

Then it crashed down just as hard. What else was he expecting really? He couldn't be lobbying for Edmund, and yet wish it was for him Yassia was setting her heart on. It was a twisted and rather selfish logic to be honest. One that Oliver knew he couldn't fault Yassia with.

“Because I, too, want to be your friend. Now… can you try and sit up? Or shall I help you with it?”

But the flame didn't extinguish itself altogether though. It probably only wavered from the sudden gust of the wind, but it was still burning bright no matter how hard Oliver wanted to quell it. Nothing and no one can ever put it out.

"I think I can sit up..." he managed to say as he used his other hand to slowly right himself up on the table, and then gave her a smile when he finally succeeded at it.

[Yassia Dyfrène de Ailantha]

Yassia hadn’t expected the uproar of feelings that the mere mentioning of her father would cause inside her. Come to think of it, she didn’t even have had too much time to make the mourning of his death pure and true, the sorrows and the uncertainties his untimely death had caused had tainted the air from the hour he had breathed his last breath, and she had had so many urgent matters on her mind there hardly had been a time to come to terms with it all. On her journey, she had had time in abundance, but there, too, her feelings and her mourning could not have been pure: her mind had been raw and cluttered with the shock of Mircea’ death and her strive to journey on and stay alive with as little as she had at her command. When in Camelot, her excitement and hope, the ups and downs she had had there, had forced her mourning in the background yet again, and only now it seemed like it could resurface, and she found that she was missing him so very much. Not as the king, but as her father, a man she had loved and adored, a man she could always lean on.
And now Oliver’s kind words tore at her thin mask of countenance, ready to assault the fragile core within.
"It's not just his wise sayings that are stuck in your mind. Your father, he himself, you will always have him in your heart."

Taking a long and slightly shaky breath, Yassia bit her lips and stood very straight. “I … I know.” She forced out and avoided Oliver’s gaze. One more look into these eyes of pure concern and commiseration, and she would break. “He knew me well… my father. Do you know what his last words were to me? His speech had grown inarticulate as one half of his face was already dead… but these words rang clear.” Again she had to take a deep breath. She had never told anyone about this before, but somehow she wanted Oliver to know. It felt natural to tell him, and now that she was thinking so vividly about her father’s last hour, the words wanted out. “’I do not fear for you, Yassia. You will make your way. I know it, so I die in… in peace’” The last two words hardly made it through and she balled her left hand into a fist behind her back. Don’t cry, Yassia… it’s long past…

Why on earth was Oliver so keen to not spoil any good image she might have of Edmund? His behavior had long since changed from peculiar to well-nigh suspicious! The way he insisted on Edmund having the first say in everything Yassia did, before Oliver could stake any claim, was turning beyond a joke! Not that she minded spending time with Edmund, he was surely the perfect prince, polite and obliging. Maybe she should make that clear once more, then maybe Oliver would finally stop worrying!
”I never said I didn’t want to spend time with him as well, Oliver”, she monished him softly. “But is it not also a little of MY choosing what I want to do and when? If you ask me first, then you get the first call. It’s only fair.”

An appreciative smile spread over Yassia’s face as Oliver sat up without her help. That was a good sign, she truly had been worrying too much! That little upheaval of letdown sneaking its way into her heart at the thought of not being able to put her arm around him to help him up, she quenched vigorously. Now was not the time to think about what-might-have-beens! Maybe not ever! Don’t be stupid, Yassia, really!
”Very well, now all we need—“
”The decoction is ready, Princess!” Right on cue, Marcus appeared again, carrying a low bowl with a slightly golden coloured liquid inside. Yassia’s heart nearly missed a beat. Was this just a lucky coincidence, or had Marcus waited for the right moment to come into view… biding his time, listening to their conversation..?
Well, she couldn’t call him out on it now, that would only come across very suspicious indeed, so she took the bowl with a smile and nodded.
”Thank you, Marcus. Grit your teeth again, Oliver, it might sting a little.” Carefully, she dipped a piece of cloth into the liquid and began to swab the wound with it. Now she only needed to souse another piece of cloth with it, put it over the wound and fixate it with bandages. A piece of cake, really.

[Oliver Strathmore of Mercia]

The play of emotions on her face at the thought of her father tugged at Oliver's heart, and he wanted so much to just hold her tight in his arms. He wondered if she ever got to properly mourn the death of her family. Now, he wanted to know everything that happened to her from the start. It may help him present her case to the council, but more importantly it might help her process all that happened to her since she left Ailantha, come to terms with them. Oliver may not have experienced the pain of death like she did, but he knew how important it was to accept it and move on. He didn't know if Yassia had completely moved on.

Oliver listened with his heart and mind as she continue to talk about his father and his last days. “’I do not fear for you, Yassia. You will make your way. I know it, so I die in… in peace’” Oliver was left speechless at her father's words. Perhaps it was prophetic in a way. The words of a dying man could have that effect couldn't it. And this was not just any man. It was her father, a man who loved her dearly. He reached his hand out and touched her arm. She had her hand on her back, and Oliver gently moved his hand down the length of her arm so he could hold her. "You are a strong person, and your father knew that. You can brave through anything and everything that will come your way. If it's any help, I will do all I can to keep you safe from here on out..." Belatedly realizing that he was stepping back into that place where he was no longer allowed to, he backtracked. "And Edmund...he will do everything he can to see that no harm will come to you now."

“But is it not also a little of MY choosing what I want to do and when? If you ask me first, then you get the first call. It’s only fair.”

I can't get the first call. Not now, not ever. Oliver looked down, apologetic that he had unknowingly irked her by pushing Edmund and his "right" to her time a little too far. Perhaps, he needed to take it slow. The last thing he wanted now was to preempt his brother's impending proposal of marriage to her. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to undermine you or your part in all of this, it is your kingdom we are lobbying for after all." Then with a sigh, he relented. Since he was going to keep Yassia all to himself for this 'discussion' anyway, he might as well just let her decide on the when. "When would be a convenient time for you to talk then?"

When Marcus came back with the decoction, Oliver eyed the slightly golden liquid with aversion. Moreso when Yassia told him to grit his teeth once again. Now that he knew better, he listened and obeyed her, his jaws clenching as she started to swab his wound with the liquid. He hissed when he felt the stinging sensation, but then breathed deep to keep the pain down. When it was over, he looked expectantly at both Yassia and Marcus, waiting for them to do what needed to be done next. He decided not to open his mouth until all the treatment was finished. He didn't want his healer, namely Yassia, to give him another one of her admonition, despite the fact that he liked receiving them. He loved how cute and adorable she looked when she's annoyed at him that way.

[Yassia Dyfrène de Ailantha]

Yassia hadn’t expected any consolation at all, as she surely had not been fishing for it with her words. On the contrary, it might have been better for her composure if Oliver had carried on as if nothing had happened, as ignoring and not probing was always better for countenance, it was one of the many rules of the court Yassia had practically imbibed from infancy. But she already had learned that here in the five kingdoms, people were more open in both expressing their own feelings and reacting to those of others.Yassia liked to think that she had already adapted quite well to that throughout her journey and her time spent here, but it was in moments like these were the differences between the two cultures became almost tangible, and she would have been lying if she said she clearly fancied one over the other. Being in Albion now for so long, the large island where her mother had come from, had made her understand many things about this woman, the way she had been and the way Yassia remembered her. And it made her miss her even more, and wishing she could share her experience here with her.

Oliver’s words now moved her to an extent she hadn’t forseen. In a way, this young man still managed to get right under her skin, like he had been able to the first time they met. The circumstances might been different now and a lot of hopes and dreams down the drain, but this feeling remained, and probably would remain until the end of time. Oliver thought her strong and brave, just like her father had, and oddly enough this time it didn’t feel like a weight she could not shoulder, an expectation she was unable to fulfill, it rather felt like a supporting hand, buoying her up in just the right amount.
”Thank you”, she said, trying to force her voice to be steady. “I know these two simple words can never cover my amount of gratitude… but I guess until people invent a new expression, these will have to do.”
It irked her a little that once again Oliver brought in Edmund into this wonderful moment, as if the shadow of his brother was always looming over their headsa and looking over their shoulders. But that probably only showed how loyal Oliver was now to his brother and his kingdom. He really had changed.
”Well… I guess with two such apt and wonderful men on my side, there is really not much I need to fear”, she said warmly.

But then again, Oliver’s reactions WERE a little peculiar as of late, and it all had something to do with Edmund. Cocking her head like a sparrow, Yassia tried her hardest to get through to any hidden meaning there might be, but she wasn’t very succesful. Oh well, another question adding to the pile of them she already needed to ask Caitrin when the two of them could catch a minute alone. Yassia was hesitant like never before, bringing these topics up with her friend, as she didn’t want to weigh her down with her own problems. Caitrin should enjoy herself with Griff and with Oliver after all, and get ready to be happily married. But maybe there was some Mercian custom she was missing out on here, and a simple question and answer would clear it all up.
”Don’t apologize”, she asked him rather ruefully. “I guess I was overreacting. But speaking of time… let’s get you back on your feet first, so maybe sometime next week? That gives enough time for other plans to become evident.”

Yassia was quite pleased with her patient patient so to say, and she gave him an affectionate nudge as she was done cleaning the wound. “It’s done. Now… Marcus, what would you suggest?” she asked curiously, not wanting to give the court physician the expression she was overruling him.
”I would suggest the same thing you are probably thinking, princess”, he said with a smile, obviously seeing through her little charade. “Here, I prepared this little piece of cloth beforehand, soused with the decoction. Press it on the wound and then bandage it, I will help you.” He finished, moving behind Oliver and holding his left arm out. “I’m sure you could do it alone, my prince”, he explained to Oliver, “but after a few moments it would hurt bearing its weight alone in your conditions, so I’m sparing you that while Princess Yassia here dresses your wound.”
Dressing his wound… oh she had known before it woule come to this! What was the saying: ‘you made your bed, now lie in it!’ Yes, she apparently had to do just that, a healer couldn’t care much about appropriate behavior most of the time.

Taking a deep breath in preperations, Yassia carefully pressed the soused cloth on Oliver’s cleaned wound and then started to fixate it with bandages, her fingertips tingling every time she accidently touched his bare skin.