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"Ah but do you think that merely as I am dressed in the colours of Mercia?"

“You got me there. I had to say, you are making your Mercian prince mighty proud,” he replied playfully. Caitrin had indeed bloomed fully now, a flower that had finally opened up herself to the sun, for the world to see. It was a pity for Mercia to have lost the opportunity to have her lovely presence grace their courts. He would have to remedy that. As she twirled in her dress for him, he couldn’t quite get rid of the nagging regret at the back of his head that he had missed quite a lot of her growing up this way. No, it wasn’t that he felt he was missing out on having his hands on the lady that she had become now. It was more of the brotherly kind.

Their kiss surprisingly had that effect on him. Instead of taking him towards the direction of an ardent suitor, he had turned into an overly protected brother. She was the sweetest girl he had ever known, albeit a little too bold for her own good, and he wanted nothing but the best for her. "You were all to easy to force." Oliver laughed. “Tell me, what would you have done had I pushed you away? Would you throw a rock at me? Or even shot me with your arrows?” Funny, but somehow, talking about their past didn’t sounded awkward at all. Only goes to show how much both of them had moved on and matured since then.

The look on her face at the mention of going back to Mercia spoke volumes to Oliver. It was not in him to pry but he had surmised just as much from his talks with Jeffrey. Caitrin was not too happy with his father’s decision to send her away, and yet she had to make do with it. She had learned to adapt to her new life here in Camelot. Judging from what he was seeing now, she seemed to have adapted quite well. “Only Jeffrey once in a while. He misses you dearly.” At least Oliver was glad that Caitrin was still open to going back to Mercia even for just a visit.

When she told him about his intended, Oliver couldn’t help but notice how her eyes had lit up. “If he ever does one thing to hurt you, I’ll have his head,” Oliver told her half teasing and half meaning it. But seeing as she was clearly very happy, there was nothing for him or her to worry about. Who would have thought Caitrin would beat him in the marriage department? He had thought her to be a tad too flighty to settle down too soon. Well, if it’s love, then it’s love. He wondered when that would happen to him, to find the right woman for him. “I am very happy for you, Cat. I hope your happiness will rub off on me and help me find the woman of my dreams as well,” he told her with a sincere smile, and then pulled her closer for another embrace, this time warmer and more heartfelt.

Then an idea clicked into his head. “I would love to meet Griff. Don’t worry, I won’t be putting him to a test or anything like that,” he chuckled. “Actually, I would like to invite both of you to Mercia. I would gladly throw a pre-wedding party for my dearest friend and honorary little sister.” He hoped she wouldn’t say no. It would mean a lot to him and her family to see her home again. Maybe they can repair whatever ties had been broken when she left, start anew, just like she was starting anew now with Griff.

As soon as Caitrin jumped into his arms, he spun her around and couldn’t help the laughter bubble up and out of him. No, she was no longer that little lady he had kissed years ago. For one, she had grown a full head taller. While she was all cute then, she’s just breathtaking now. “I missed you. You look gorgeous!” he gushed out his admiration for the fine lady that he was seeing now. He cocked his head to the side at he openly watched and admired her. He liked that she was clad in the colors of Mercia. It looked good on her.

Six years. How she has changed. He wasn’t sure if he could say the same for himself. He was still the playful charmer that everybody knew him to be, but he had more responsibilities now. His father had started entrusting some matters of the kingdom to him and his brother, and Oliver was stepping up to the plate. He still goes out on hunts like before, but not as often anymore. Mercia comes before everything else now.

"Well I wouldn't expect you to be bored around me; you weren't all those years ago."

Trust her to bring that moment back up. Oliver didn’t mind. It had been a thing of the past, and he knew both of them can now easily look back at it as a fond memory of their teenage years. Everything playful, nothing serious. Oliver knew she was teasing him, and he let out an easy laugh as he remembered that time. “You were devious. You forced me into having ‘fun’ with you. Not that I was complaining,” he teased her back with a wink. Caitrin did no forcing whatsoever, and he was all too willing a participant that time himself.

Oliver’s brows furrowed in concern when she told him Mercia doesn’t feel like home for her anymore. He understood that. Her father had sent her away, and while Oliver didn’t know much details about her leaving, he surmised that had somehow affected her relationships back home. “If given the chance, would you go back? Even for just a quick visit?” he asked as he reached out and gave her arm a gentle squeeze. She still had family there, family he knew who still cared for her.

When she hinted on a change, Oliver leaned closer, way too eager to know what it was. Then she held up her hand and showed a silver ring with a sparkling blue sapphire sitting on top of it. It was beautiful. “Well, well, well, look who’s growing up way too fast,” he teased as he looked at the ring more closely. It was certainly finely crafted, whoever stole her heart must be some very well-endowed noble. “Wow! Congratulations! Who is the unlucky---I mean lucky man?” he asked with a wink. He couldn’t quite believe that little Cat was already spoken for. Well, it didn’t really surprise him. She’s a fine woman, and any man would be an idiot to let her go.

When she curtsied, he obliged her with a bow, and then opened his arms out to her. “Enough with the courtly pleasantries and give me a hug, will you?” Oliver told her with a laugh. How he had missed her. They had never really had a proper farewell before Caitrin had left Mercia, and since then he hadn’t heard much from her save for what little snippets her brother Jeffrey would tell him. For all intents and purposes, Caitrin had become quite like a little sister to him...a little sister that he kissed.

Oliver couldn’t quite help but remember that fond little memory they shared, that secret that they had promised to keep so many years ago now. The sweet and not-so-little kiss they had shared under a tree in their own estate back in Mercia. She was still the budding little lady then at fourteen. Bold and daring, she had challenged him, and he had accepted. That had been one of his fondest memories of her. What made it even more fond and exciting was, it was only between them, and no one else. How he treasured that moment, and wished things now were as carefree as they were back then. Sadly, they all had to grow up, and the shenanigans of the past are best left there, in the past.

Looking at her all pretty and grown up now, Oliver could see that the flighty little girl may still be there albeit somehow tamed or more reined in, perhaps? He couldn’t quite place it, but there was a distinct brightness in her eyes, a glint that hadn’t been there before. Something had happened to her these years other than growing up, and Oliver was very interested to know what it was. “I was bored in there, but I’m not now. Goodness, it’s been almost six years, Cat,” he replied, still loving to call her by her nickname. He hoped she wouldn’t mind though. “What have you been up to here? Why haven't you visited home all this time?” he asked genuinely curious and excited to have seen her after so long.

Prince or not, Oliver knew Caitrin’s father would not let him get off the hook if he finds out what had transpired here between him and his precious daughter. It may spell disgrace not only for him, but more importantly for Caitrin, who had not even been officially introduced out to the society. Oliver’s own father would not look kindly on him acting like some wild animal either, moving in for the kill when opportunity presents itself. While Oliver really doesn’t care what his father would think or do, it was for Caitrin that he was more concerned about. He can’t have her reputation tainted just because she was seen playing around with him…and in their own estate yet.

Still, Oliver was not one to act all princely and noble on her by spurning her advances. He was just a man after all. Though he knew he would never let it reach a point where he could hurt her. She wanted this as much as he did. There is no harm in a little flirtation, is there? At least, in that aspect, he and Caitrin were on the same page.

Her moves were quite bold for someone as ‘inexperienced’ as she was, and Oliver had to give it to her. The feel of her fingers as she traced them on his back left a tingling feeling down his spine, and Oliver responded by moving his lips up the slender curve of her neck to rest on the sensitive skin at the back of her ear. He gave her earlobe quick bite before replying, “I don’t know. Do you have any suggestions?” he asked breathlessly. He wouldn’t want to be the one giving her ideas now, would he? “You were the one tasked to entertain me while they were away, after all.” His voice had a teasing lilt to it, and he was smiling now through the kisses as he snaked his arm around her slim waist and held her more closer to him, if it were still possible.

“I will be forever indebted to your steady hands and your clear head.”

Oliver still continued to feel rather shy from the comment that she had given him. How funny things had unexpectedly turned for him and for her. “You’re just saying that now. Earlier, you had cursed me to the depths of hell and maybe beyond,” he told her. He was not really used to compliments like that. Sure, he’d heard a lot of praises from women and friends about his charms, and hunting prowess, and what-not. But to be seen as a good man and by Yassia even, it somehow meant something more, something meaningful that he couldn’t quite explain. It surely meant a lot to him, that was certain.

When she tried but failed to suppress her laughter at his ‘oliver tree to your thistle’ comment, Oliver didn’t know what just happened. Did I say something wrong? Or funny? He had not intended that to be a humorous one, did he? He looked at Sir Sigfried and to his friends for help, but they only shrugged their shoulders, and was just as amused at the laughing Yassia as they were by his cluelessness. “What? What did I just say?” Oliver finally asked her, confusion still written all over his face. While he loved the sound of her soft laughter ringing in his ears, he wanted so much to be in on the joke that he couldn’t help but insist. “Tell me or else…” Or else what really? Oliver didn’t know. It was a totally empty thread if there ever was one. He hoped Yassia didn't know that it was.

”You are very comfortable furniture, so I decree you’ll be used for that henceforth.”

Twisted as it may be, Oliver liked the sound of that. “Only if I was your furniture,” he told her jokingly, winking as he went. Jokes were half-meant, but Oliver totally meant that even if that sounded like a harmless jest. “And if the pay is up to my standards. I am a superb huntsman after all. I’d be giving up the lure of the forest to the comforts of your bed---your home.” He had meant to say ‘bedroom’, meaning himself to be her bed, and caught himself just at the last minute. He doubt though if Yassia hadn’t caught on to it. She had this nasty habit of catching that which he was trying hard not to blurt out.

Oliver looked at her when she outlined her ‘eating plan’ for both of them. It was sweet of her to worry about him eating when he was really just focused on her comfort. It made Oliver feel all warm and fuzzy underneath to have her care for him like that. Her suggestion to eat from the same plate had its own set of implications, symbolism in his world, just like the undoing of her lacings had. A man and a woman sharing a plate spoke of a union between them, permanent, marriage. But then again, what do symbols and traditions matter here now. His friends may know but Yassia was only a nomad. She had no knowledge whatsoever about such royal or noble traditions. And besides, he wasn’t going to see her again after today. If they were to act as a “married” couple now, it would all be forgotten tomorrow. The thought made Oliver sad, but he was going to make this all worthwhile for now. “Deal!” he replied with a wide smile, and went on to take the next spoonful of stew to his mouth, and lavished the feel of the delicious food in his tongue. “Your turn,” he said as he fed her another spoonful. When he did, part of the sauce dripped down the side of her lip, and Oliver immediately grabbed the handkerchief in his pocket, and wiped it off with a most tender of touch. For a moment there, his locked eyes with her again, and Oliver felt something warm and wonderful pass between them.

“Sorry about that. Not that the sauce on your face mattered really. You already look so grimy it only added more to the effect,” he told her when he realized, quite belatedly, that he had been staring. He added a huge grin to clearly show that he was just playing with her. On the other side of the camp, everybody else had just had their fill of the sumptuous dinner, and were now preparing their cots for sleep. Sir Sigfried had first watch for the night, and he was scouting the surrounding area again.

After a half hour of walking into the thick forest, the young Oliver was as amazed to see the jungle with his own eyes for the first time. Sure he had seen much of it from the window in his room in the castle, but to be in it, to walking under the huge canopy of the trees, to touch the trunks with his own hands, to step over large overgrown roots, to duck underneath low lying branches…it felt empowering and exhilarating. The nature all around him never ceased to fascinate the young prince. The sound of the rustle of the leaves, of the birds chirping overhead, or other animal sounds around them, it all amused and amazed Oliver. From that moment, he was clearly in love with the forest, and had made a vow with himself to know more about them, live with them as he could.

Not really used to all this trekking, Oliver had to constantly lag behind the group as he tried but failed to maneuver over some huge roots sprouting above ground, over fallen tree trunks, over huge boulders, through sloping earth. He was always trailing behind, but he didn’t let that deter him. He would refuse any help that the older guys would offer, choosing to learn how to traverse the forest all by himself. He had promised not to be a burden to them, and he was staying true to that.

There was one tricky uphill trail that Oliver had trouble getting through. Not wanting the others to see him having any difficulty, he assured them that he was all right. “Don’t worry about me. Go on ahead, I’ll catch up,” he told them as he slowly made the climb. He had watched the others as they climbed the slope, and was now trying it himself. He made sure his foot was planted on a secure rock, then grabbed hold of a root jutting out ahead, and made his way up. Halfway up the slope, he didn’t know what happened, he must have stepped on the wrong stone or held onto the wrong root. The rock he was stepping on suddenly gave way, and the root he was holding onto was too weak to hold his weight. In one swift motion, Oliver found himself sliding back down the rather long slope. His tried to find something to break his fall, but only managed to grab onto weeds and scrape his knees and elbows against the hard surface. He slid fast back onto the foot of the slope and when his foot hit the ground, he lost his balance and stumbled over. The forest seemed to spin fast around him and before Oliver could regain his bearings, he had stepped onto a jutting root and was sent pummeling back first onto the forest floor, twisting his ankle in the process. A sudden surge of pain shot through his legs and Oliver couldn't help the piercing cry that issued from his lips as he lay there on the ground totally immobile and helpless.

Was this really just a 14-year-old girl he was kissing right here? Oliver had to check yet again because from the way Caitrin was handling the situation, answering his charms with just as much charisma, she seemed anything like a girl…or even a little lady. She was a woman. It was such a pity really to treat this dalliance as just that. A mere flirtation, fleeting, superficial…if only.

When Oliver felt Caitrin hands travel to the small of his back and pressed herself to him, Oliver shifted and pinned her against the tree with half his weight. He could feel her soft curves pressed against his hard chest, but he never stopped the dance that their lips where so focused on doing at the moment. He may have kissed other women before, but there was something about Caitrin’s kisses that made Oliver want for more. They were as sweet as her 14 summers, and yet as fierce and passionate as a budding flower opening herself up to the sun. It felt good. If he was indeed her first kiss, then he counted himself most lucky to witness and the cause of such a coming out.

He felt his chest heave up and down as they paused to take in some much needed air. Smiling down at her as their foreheads touched, Oliver smirked at her little ‘worry.’ “What on earth indeed? I’d die of boredom here if Jeffrey takes the whole day,” Oliver teased back, that trademark naughty grin appearing on his face again. “We probably…” he started, moving his lips to plant a kiss on her forehead. “…need to find…” Then the tip of her nose. “…some other way…” A quick peck on her lips. “…to amuse ourselves…” Then on her chin. “…while he's still away.” He gave her a little wink before burying his face at the crook of her neck, ending the trail of kisses with a long and lingering one there.

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

Everybody except him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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