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“Just yours… that’s more than enough for me!”

Oliver couldn’t help but smile at her words. Even in her sleep-addled condition, Yassia still mustered what strength she had to resist it long enough so she could tell him that. He couldn't help but feel the warm tingling sensation it brought him. She was tired, he could see that, getting weary by the minute. He couldn’t help but wonder what she had been through these past days, traveling all by herself. It must have been grueling enough even for a nomad like her.

When her voice trailed at her next words and moved to snuggle closer to him, Oliver couldn’t help but wrap his around her, pulling her closer to him without unnecessarily disturbing her and her wound. She felt warm and nice against his touch, and he had never felt more comfortable in all his life than he did now. He could stay like this forever.

While he knew that was impossible, he took solace in the fact that he had one perfect day and one perfect night with her. It was more than enough to last him a lifetime.

---

The rays of the early morning sun shining through the leaves on the trees tickled his face and woke Oliver up. His servant lot and all of his friends were already up trying to coax a fire with as little noise as they could. When Sir Sigfried saw that the young prince was up, he handed Oliver a mug of warm coffee they had earlier brewed and heated up. Oliver refused it and made a gestured at the sleeping Yassia. “Later,” he whispered not wanting to wake her up. The knight gave him a knowing smile, and set the mug beside Oliver.

“I take it you’ve had a beautiful night, sire?” joked one of his friends in a hushed tone, which earned laughter from the other.

“I reckon he did,” seconded Lot as he cocked his head towards Yassia.

Oliver shushed him immediately yet softly. “Shut up, you lot. You’ll wake her up. She needed to rest some more.” Then Oliver turned to the beautiful nomad lying slumped there against his chest, and he gently touched her forehead to check her temperature. She wasn’t burning, which was a good sign.

Then her eyelids fluttered, and Oliver took in the lovely sight of her waking up and greeting the morning. She gasped and then she groaned, and Oliver gently rubbed his hand down the length of her arm just as she looked up at him. Then he frowned when she mentioned pain. “Are you in pain? Where?” Ignoring the rest of her words, Oliver knew his voice was laced with panic, and all he could think about was Yassia feeling all uncomfortable and hurt. He reached a hand out to take the steaming mug of coffee Sir Sigfried had offered him earlier, and made a motion to give it to Yassia. “Do you want something to warm your stomach?” This time, Oliver’s face and voice mirrored nothing but concern. While it may be selfish, Oliver would welcome any excuse to keep her here longer, and he tried hard not to think about the impending parting that this day would bring.

Oliver sat behind the desk in his room, hunched in concentration over a piece of parchment, taking down notes from a thick geography book spread in front of him. It was one of the many tomes of different sizes stacked in front of him. A couple of days after the sword incident with Edmund, Oliver was resigned to spending his days inside the castle by orders of his healer. Make that healers. Marcus and Yassia. Never had the Mercian court physician been so happy to be working and exchanging notes about healing with the princess. That is to Oliver's chagrin. Of course, he knew it was all for the best. His wound may not have been deep or dangerous enough, but it was still fresh, and Oliver was not a fool to risk it getting worse with infection.

He was reading a particularly interest book about the culture and people of the faraway kingdom of Ailantha when he heard a scuffling from his balcony door. Standing up from his seat, he made his way towards the sound and couldn't help the surprise on his face when he saw who it was perched along the balustrade. "Nuri!" he exclaimed as he rushed towards the bird, and held his hand out to pet the bird. He leaned out to see if the eagle was with someone, and saw a fleeting figure run from the gazebo towards the shadow of the castle. A smile appeared on Oliver's lips as he knew exactly who it was. "It's good to see you, old pal," he told Nuri before turning on his heel. He slowly put his boots on, taking care not to unnecessary jolt his chest wound, and then grabbed his thick woolen coat before stepping out his room.

"OLIVER..."

"You called?" After a few good minutes, Oliver had arrived in the gazebo and was leaning against one of the posts, looking at Laurelin with an amused expression on his face as she tried to call out to him from under his window. "Don't you think we're too old for sneaking out now?" he teased her. He had seen her back in Camelot, had told her about his predicament with Yassia, and she had been the ever supportive friend that she always was. And now she was back here in Mercia as well. Had he known she was making her way back, he would have asked her to join the royal caravan home. But then again, that would be imposing on her free spirit. She was happy this way, and Oliver wouldn't want it any other way.

“Oliver Leofric Strathmore de Mercia!”

For a moment there, Oliver had to do a double-take as he thought it was his mother who was calling out to him. Yassia's rather sharp admonishment made Oliver think twice about his supposed plan of acting nonchalant about his entry into the clearing, but then he had to stay in character. The other option, that of admitting the truth, was just unacceptable, even to himself.

“You shouldn’t be here! You shouldn’t be out at all! What do you have to say for your defense?”

There was no choice but to look at the source of the voice, which was not surprisingly almost submerged under the river water. He was torn between feigning surprise or just being altogether amused at their current situation. Of course, it was not his intention to make her uncomfortable, but he couldn't think of anything else to do but to march right in and sort of announce himself, right.

Realizing that feigning surprise would be too theatrical and fearing that Yassia might see through his farce, he took another route. "Mother! So nice of you to step out of the castle and bathe in the river!" he responded teasingly instead, a wide grin on his face, as he stepped down from his horse. Slowly, he guided Arrow downstream from where Yassia was for some water, and then washed his own hands himself before splashing some water on his face.

Then he heaved a small sigh, and gave Yassia a warm, apologetic smile. "I don't mean to intrude. I had to get out of that castle or else I'll lose my mind," he admitted to at least that part of his story. There was no way he was admitting to the eavesdropping part. It wasn't intentional anyway. "I...umm...I've been a good boy, see. I was just riding my horse, nothing too strenuous." Oliver had the oddest feeling that he was like a little kid explaining himself to his mother after being caught with one hand inside the cookie jar. While it may irk some high and might prince to have to explain themselves, Oliver was very much cool with it. For one, he didn't want Yassia to think ill of him, to think that he was being rebellious yet again. And two, it was Yassia. One word from her, and he knew he was defenseless in her presence. There was no denying the strangely weird but welcome things that the lady could do to him. And besides, Oliver was already lost the very moment he had seen her with her lacy chemise clinging to her body earlier on.

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.

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.

"Oh your spending the night, Oliver? Apparently the waters are unfit for children, perhaps you will need protection tonight, as I take it your joining me for a swim?"

"A swim? At this time of the night?" Oliver feigned a shock expression on his face. But truth be told though, he wasn't surprised at all. Laurelin loved the water, and he knew she would take advantage of any opportunity to go on a swim. He tried to remember if he'd every come across a river near the city of Camelot, and come to think of it, there was one. He probably would mind a swim. He was out all day hunting, and he knew he badly needed some washing up. Whether it was in his own guest chambers in the castle or out there in the forest, it didn't matter.

He was just glad to see that Laurelin was happy to see him. He knew he was. Of all places, he had not expected to see her here. He should have really. Since they have separated, Laurelin have taken on the full life of a gypsy, wandering here and there, letting the wind take her where it wanted. And she seemed to be loving and enjoying it. Every time he saw her, there was no mistaking the glow that emanates from her. This was the life she was born to live. Perhaps it was just fortunate that things had ended between them. Laurelin was too freedom-loving and flighty that Oliver could never imagine her being tied down in one place. And he knew she knew that, too. She knew that there was just no future for them. But for their friendship, yes, it will always remain, and it will remain strong no matter the circumstances.

He was glad that Laurelin did not refuse his offer for a meal. He didn't know how much well she has been eating with living life as a gypsy. He had tried to give her whatever he could to help her out every year that they meet, but he wasn't so sure how long they would last Laurelin. But he took comfort in the fact that she looked in the pink of health, not sick at all. And to see her entertain the patrons at the tavern happily, that was a good enough sign that she was doing and feeling great.

When she laid out her gift on the table, Oliver couldn't help the laughter that burst from him. Arrowheads! She always manages to collect these and give him some every time they meet. He picked one up and examined it. "These are beautiful. Thank you, Lau. ," he said in reply. "I didn't expect to see you here, so I don't have much with me to give you," he said as he fumbled in his pocket. Then he felt the pouch tied to his belt and gave her a bright smile. He fished something out of it and then held it out in front of her eyes. It was a sparkling blue sapphire the size of a small pea. "Do you like it? If you do, it's yours." He had offered to give Laurelin some gold coins before, but she would refuse them. So he gave her gems instead, telling her they're just stones. Of course, she knew they were precious and Oliver was just glad that she had decided to sell some of them so she can have her provisions.

"Tell me what's troubling you."

"I met a girl, Lau. I never thought I'd find someone I'd feel strongly for again, but I did. She's special...she's everything I could ever ask for," he started telling her. Oliver knew that despite their past relationship, they have gone past the hurt and painful feelings. Now, they were just friends, siblings more like, who can tell each other anything and everything. " When I first met her a year or so ago, she was on the road traveling. I actually thought she was a nomad. I accidentally hit her with my arrow and I helped treat her wound. I don't know how it happened, but...it was love at first sight, I tell you." He smiled at the thought of his first meeting with Yassia. "We met again last night during King Arthur's coronation, and I found out she was not a nomad. She was a princess. But I got angry at her, I don't know why. I also didn't tell her I was a prince then, so she was also surprised to find out who I really was. And now...I seem to have lost her. I pushed her away and she put up a wall to keep me away." He took Laurelin's hand and looked at her imploringly. He knew he was only telling her the gist of it. There was so much more to Yassia that he could ever put into words. Right now, he just wanted to talk to someone. "But I want her. I want her so bad, Lau. What do I do?"

"Indeed you are, Caitrin de Archer, or should I say Caitrin Aubert," he replied with a wide grin. Funny how Oliver liked the sound of her eventual married name. It seemed like it was definitely meant to be. To know that Griff wasn't at all surprised when he learned of her roots was quite a pleasant thought. It goes to show that Griff had known Caitrin as herself, not of her family or of her background. The thought didn't stop Oliver from pulling a parallelism in his own experience with Yassia. He didn't know who Yassia really was when they first met, and yet he felt like he had already known her forever. While there was a veil that shrouded his perception Yassia upon knowing that she was a princess, it was so thin for him to know that the Yassia he knew now was still every bit the Yassia he had met then. There was no question of that. "When you love someone, you really do love someone, right?" he remarked feeling truly proud and happy of what his friend had found in Griff. "But I bet it was your stubbornness that drew him in? It seems Griff is the type who is easily challenged by a challenge. Is he?" He could only imagine what their first meeting must have been like knowing Caitrin and from what little he had learned about Griff since he met him in Camelot.

“But we all come back in the end.”

Oliver gave Caitrin a grateful little smile. He reached a hand out and gave her chin a quick little pinch. "You do. But I know you will leave again," he teased. There was one woman he hoped wouldn't leave though. Yassia. How he wanted her to stay, whether as Edmund's wife or something else, was another question. "But I will take comfort in the knowledge that I know where to find you should I do come looking." Yes, Caitrin may be leaving Mercia again soon, but it wasn't like before. This time, it was for more happier reasons--to get married to the man she loves.

He noticed the shadow that briefly fell over Caitrin's face at his allusion to offsprings, and he hoped he hadn't said something that might have offended her. When she spoke about leaving the fruitfulness until after they are wed, Oliver surmised something must have happened to make her be cautious like that. "Is everything okay, Cait? I don't mean to offend or bring up sad or bad thoughts or memories. I'm sorry," Oliver apologized as he sat back down beside his friend. That was the downside to all this. Oliver and Caitrin badly need to catch up. Oliver was completely clueless as to what had happened to Caitrin all this time.

Trust Caitrin to pick up on the union part. Perhaps, a soon-to-be-wed woman like her would be so keen on catching stuff related to weddings and marriages. "Too soon for you maybe, but to Edmund, it isn't. Actually, his time is running out. The moment he met Yassia in Camelot, he practically staked his claim on her...with father as witness even," Oliver said, an angry edge to his voice which he didn't notice at all. No, he was not angry at Edmund. He was angry at himself for missing out on the opportunity and for eventually turning Yassia away. Then he turned to Caitrin, seriousness written all over his face. He took one long swig from his goblet, feeling the wine burn down his throat in a good way. "Yassia told me you two are good friends, that you helped her settle into Camelot. What exactly do you know about us, Cait?" He may have assumed too much, assumed that Yassia spoke about him to Caitrin. But he won't lose anything by asking that question now anyway. If Caitrin says she knows knowing, Oliver will leave it at that.

Caitrin's presence was making him forget the deal that he had struck with Yassia back in Camelot. While things seem to be cordial now between them, the agreement was still in effect. But talking about Yassia...it was not like anything. For over a year now, Oliver had kept his meeting with Yassia a secret, his feelings even more hidden. He wouldn't even talk about her to his servant or to his friends who had been hunting with him, who had met Yassia as well. While it was an unparalleled memory, it was a painful one, too, knowing he can never have her then. But fate has a funny way of sneaking up on you, and Oliver knew he had reacted the wrong way when he found out Yassia's true identity. If only Edmund hadn't staked his claim on her first...if only he hadn't been so angry when he found out... To be able to talk about her now, even though not about their very first meeting, was honestly quite liberating. It seemed like all that he wanted to say about Yassia was eager to burst forth. Hence, he tried his best to watch himself even after the few exclamations he had already unconsciously let slip.

“I will never forget my roots, not the people there.”

"I know you will not," Oliver replied with a rather cheeky smile. "We, Mercians, are quite an eccentric lot, are we not? We are an aggressive and proud people, not like any other. With a power-hungry King like Bayard who isn't always on the edge?" Oliver said, mocking his own father. Lord Bayard's endless hunger for dominion and power is infamous among Mercians. Proof of which was the long-standing war between Camelot which had only been put to an end a couple of years ago. "How did Griff react when he found out you were Mercian?" Oliver was genuinely curious. When Griff had voiced out his southern sensibilities to him, Oliver wondered how he got around to the fact that his lady love was born and bred in the North. Or did it even matter to him at all?

He dismissed Caitrin's apology and laughed when she protested that she had not disappeared. Of course, she didn't. Oliver just wished he had bid her goodbye. He smiled and shook his head when she teased him yet again. "Funny enough, women always do disappear from me. There must be something about me that makes them just want to get a quick taste and then move on," he chuckled, but his smile didn't reach his eyes. Truth be told, he wished the women in his life wouldn't pass him by so fast, that they stay for a while and see more of what he can offer. But maybe he was right. He and his rebellious, sometimes devil-may-care, nature are probably not what women want in a life partner.

He finished the rest of his apple and then stood up to pour two goblets of red wine. "Please allow me this," he said as he handed one to Caitrin, this time with a warm and sincere smile on his face. He held his goblet up for a toast. "To you and Griff. May your alone time here in Mercia prove to be a fruitful and productive one." There was that hint of a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, but Oliver meant every word he said. He did wish the soon-to-be-married couple as many offsprings as they can make.

“Usually you have the woman on your arm before Edmund has had the chance to look at her twice.”

Oliver settled himself beside Caitrin again and turned a little too preoccupied with the contents of his goblet. He was stalling. He didn't know what to answer to that. If only Caitrin knew the battle that was raging inside him right now. He did have Yassia first, for a night, a year ago. And she had him. They had each other for that one perfect night. But...but what? Oliver asked himself now. What was he going to tell his friend? Sure, he could just as easily lie and joke his way out of it, but somehow he couldn't. Not to Caitrin. He managed a small chuckle before replying, "In case you haven't noticed, Edmund is serious about Yassia. And it seems Yassia has slowy taken a liking to my brother as well," he replied, not outrightly denying or confirming anything. That was the safest route, was it? But then he doubt that was enough for Caitrin. The thought of Yassia liking Edmund brought a piercing pain to his chest, and he knew it wasn't caused by the wound there. "Their union will be good for Mercia. For Ailantha, too. Yassia needed help in taking Ailantha back from her uncle, Edmund can give her that."

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.