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"Tut tut, is the gift of my smile and beauty not enough?"

Oliver puckered his lips and made a show of thinking over her offer. "Hmmm...let's consider it half of a gift. I want food," he replied as seriously as he could muster, and then broke into a grin a couple of seconds later. Oliver loved his banters, more so when he was making them with people who are just as lighthearted and carefree as he was. Caitrin was one. He had certainly known that since that time years ago in her father's estate. Yassia was another, back when things had been nice and beautiful between them. He had missed that time, and wished there was some way to bring it back somehow.

He closed the door when Caitrin stepped in and then motioned her towards a cushioned sofa by the fire. He gave her a warm smile as he grabbed an apple from a basket of fruits at a nearby table and gently tossed it her way. Then he took another one for himself before sinking on the cushioned seat. "I'm better. Yassia could give our court physician a run for his money in the healing department," he replied, his eyes twinkling from the blazing fire in the hearth. He wasn't sure if Caitrin knew that Yassia was a healer, and he didn't want to give away anything about his past with Yassia until he knew exactly how much Caitrin knew.

"I'm glad you came, Cait. I'm sorry we haven't really talked much since we arrived yesterday. How are you? How's Griff?" he asked before taking a bite from his apple. He thought it imperative and courteous to inquire about them. Caitrin may be a daughter of Mercia, but he had invited her and Griff back to her homeland in the first place. A gracious host ought to see to the comfort of his guests.

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.

“You might not know much of me, but it feels like in this short time you figured me out better than people I’ve known all my life. I will try to believe that everything will be fine.”

“I do wish to know more about you, Yassia,” he said more to himself than to her. His voice wistful, already sad and regretful for a future that he could have with her. It was what his heart had been shouting out all this time, what his heart had wanted him to do—to go out on a limb here and just make more happy memories with her. Again, he inwardly cursed himself for making that vow and yet he knew it was wrong to do so. Yassia had made him want to make that vow, and for her, he was going to keep it, even it meant not seeing her again, even if it meant a lifetime of pain for what could have, for what they could both have. If every day with Yassia was going to be like this, then he already felt like he was the biggest fool on earth for letting her go, for not holding on no matter how much he wanted to.

This kiss could rival all other kisses, but Oliver felt that any kiss with Yassia would never be the same, only more intense, more passionate every single time. If their first kiss had been of the getting-to-know-you sort, this one right here held a pledge, a promise of a future, one that seemed far-fetched and yet not entirely impossible. He didn’t know how or what happened but somewhere in the middle of the kiss, Oliver felt like his world had shifted, not into disarray, but on the contrary. It seemed like some floating pieces of a gigantic puzzle were falling into place as if some things had been set in motion in preparation for something coming. What that something was, he didn’t know. All he knew was that he was looking forward to it. What was weird though was he had felt this feeling once before…and what was happening now seemed to be a continuation of that.

With that surprising realization, he pulled back from the kiss and looked at Yassia, committing every curve, every contour, every line to memory. He searched her face, her eyes, and looked as deep and as farther as he could get. And then he closed his eyes to get in touch with his own emotions. Yes, it was the same one just like before. There was no mistaking it. He had been at his lowest of low then, fresh from a heartbreak that was ever so painful he would have cursed the stars to oblivion. But he didn’t. Instead, he wished. He wished with all his heart and mind and soul…that he may never feel the same excruciating pain again. He wished for happiness. He wished for true love, a love for all time. Of course, it had been a spur of the moment thing driven by the heightened emotions of that heartbreak. He may even be delirious then. He could still remember that night, standing in the balcony of his room. He had whispered the words to the wind as he broke down. Then when he lifted his back head up thereafter, his eyes caught the faint movement of light far ahead in the dark night…of a brief but bright flash of light streaking across the sky as if it heard him and answered him back. It gave him the shivers. Of course, he had paid no more heed or thought to that night. He had resolved to move on.

But what does this bode for him and for Yassia?

“If I were to ask you—not that we would do it—but if right now, I would ask to go away with me, spend the rest of your life with me, in that cottage in the middle of nowhere, just you and me…” Oliver asked, his voice more a nervous whisper than anything. “…would you?” He wanted to know if she would risk it. He knew he would if he could.

It was really just a small wound. Edmund’s sword had barely even sliced through meat when it grazed his chest, just near his left shoulder, but their mother had insisted that Oliver take the rest of the day easy. So here was Oliver now, all alone in his room, sitting on his bed with a book about geography on his lap. It was open to a page about a certain country outside Albion and across the seas, about Ailantha.

He tried his best to concentrate on his reading, but his mind kept wandering to what had happened earlier in the day when he and Edmund had dueled in the training grounds. Or to be exact, to what happened after that. Edmund had gone into quite a rampage over something Oliver had said, and had brandished his sword with all his might at his younger brother. With Edmund’s skill at the sword and Oliver’s minimal knowledge of it, the older Strathmore was a shoo-in for a win. Except that it really wasn’t much of a victory, because Edmund had let his temper get the better of him before he could stop himself from slicing a wound on Oliver’s chest. He got quite a mouthful from their mother when they had come earlier. Edmund was quick to apologize, and Oliver just laughed it off and brushed it aside. He knew his brother too well to know that Edmund hadn’t meant to hurt him.

But perhaps, it was a blessing in disguise? Oliver couldn’t stop asking himself. Yassia had rushed to his aid when he had fallen to the ground, letting her healer side take over, forgetting all the animosity that had existed between them since their meeting in Camelot. Oliver couldn’t help but forget it as well. Who wouldn’t? It felt nice to be fussed over by someone not your mother or the court physician. His traitorous heart was only too willing to have Yassia fuss over him and his condition. When he was past caring about what Edmund would think about Yassia’s behavior towards him, Yassia’s concern felt strangely good. And it unavoidably brought back the warm and wonderful memories they’ve had together in the Forest of Balor. It was much too powerful that it easily overshadowed all the hurt and angry feelings he had harbored towards her. Perhaps, she had felt the same way, too? The thought made Oliver feel unusually warm and tingly all over.

It wasn't hard to see that the lady standing there beside her was every bit the princess that she is, and even more. Lady Adelaide had seen quite a fair share of princesses and other ladies of noble ilk grace the halls of Mercia, but she hadn't met anyone as forthcoming and still be as sweet as the Princess of Ailantha. Of course, she sounded curt and gracious, but Lady Adelaide could see and feel the sincerity and goodness emanating from her. What the queen would give to get to know her more herself. "The pleasure is all mine to have you as a guest here in Mercia, my dear. I do hope we can spend some time together just talk about things women talk about," she told Yassia with a small laugh. "Perhaps Caitrin, too, can join us," she added. At this point, the queen was anything but a queen. It was obvious how she missed the company of fine young ladies and she wanted to make the most out of this opportunity. Also, she wanted to get to know Yassia more for Edmund's benefit.

At Yassia' inquiry, a smile lit up Lady Adelaide's face. "Oliver is an excellent archer. He learned to shoot with a bow and arrow before he even learned how to walk," she replied chuckling as a nostalgic look came over her face. Even though Oliver, like Edmund, had trained early with the sword, it was the bow and arrow that had caught Oliver's fancy. "I'll tell him to show you, maybe even teach you. I'm sure he'd love to do it. He sometimes gives archery lessons to little children in the villages whenever he finds the time."

”It’s been long since I last watched a swordfight. And they both seem so determined, I hope they take care.” "I watch them train all the time, and yet I still never get used to seeing them pummel each other with the sword," Lady Adelaide responded without taking her eyes away from her sons, a worried look on her face. She had unknowingly balled her fist when Edmund almost struck Oliver.

Even with the light banter between the brothers, the duel was anything but light. Edmund was in the zone, and he was all pumped up giving his brother the fight that he had asked for. Although he knew at the back of his mind that Oliver would never win this one, he admired his brother's courage and bravado. His eyes flickered towards Yassia, and he wondered if she had seen enough of the fight to know this is his turf, sword fighting. He'd be a hypocrite not to admit that part of giving Oliver a duel was so Yassia could see him at his best, to impress her. Hopefully, after he wins the duel, she'd be fawning over him like most ladies do after seeing him triumph in tournaments. Edmund thought she had been holding back earlier, trying to be demure and coy. Perhaps, seeing him in his fighting glory would help remedy that, not that Oliver was making it difficult for him really.

Edmund had been rather distracted with his thoughts that he had not seen Oliver's oncoming strike from over his head, and he had staggered back to avoid it. "Focus, Edmund," Oliver said with a teasing smirk, knowing he had caught his brother at a most inopportune time. The hard gaze in his brother's eyes as he looked at Yassia was too much for Oliver that he thought he'd give his brother a good dousing. No matter how he tried to tell himself that he wouldn't stand in their way, he couldn't help the ugly head of jealousy rear its head when his brother starts to get all too cocky and possessive towards Yassia.

"I'll show you focus, little brother," Edmund replied and retaliated by advancing menacingly forward with a hard left followed by a strong right. He plowed onwards even as Oliver blocked his blows one after the other until he had backed his younger brother against the nearby wall at one end of the fenced arena. Oliver had nimbly stepped aside to avoid being trapped into a corner, and tried to throw his own strikes at Edmund only to have his older brother deflect them so easily. And then Edmund had the upperhand again.

It seemed to Oliver that his brother had not been amused when he had caught him unaware earlier while looking at Yassia that he seemed to let out his irritation in the duel. Sure, Oliver may be a hothead, but at least, he vents it out at the right venue. Edmund has this nasty habit of bottling them all in, letting it build up, and then release them all out at once to the detriment of others. In this case right now, to Oliver's.

Without as much as blinking an eye, Edmund brought his sword down hard from the right, but Oliver ably blocked it. Then Edmund quickly struck from the left, and Oliver was quick enough to ward it off as well. Not a second too soon, Edmund's sword then slashed in the direction of Oliver's neck, but the younger prince ducked just in time that it merely sliced the air. However, Edmund miscalculated his next move and didn't expect his brother to stay in place instead of moving out of the way. Oliver righted himself up just as Edmund brought his sword back for another slash. Oliver hadn't seen it coming, and he barely managed to jerk his head backwards before the sword could send it rolling to the ground. Unfortunately though, it didn't miss Oliver altogether. As Oliver jerked his head back, he had pushed his chest out and Edmund's sword ruthlessly sliced his upper left torso before Edmund could stop himself. The force of the blow and the sharpness of the sword had made Oliver cry out in pain as he fell back onto the ground, blood seeping out into an expanding patch of bright red on his beige-colored tunic.

“Good luck, my prince.”

Oliver had wanted to think Yassia was wishing him, and not Edmund, luck. She had looked so graceful, every bit the courteous princess, when she crossed her hands over her bosom. To him, it showed how sincere she was in her wish for luck, and his mind desperately wanted to steal it away from Edmund. Of course, it was for Edmund. Even if their eyes had met just when she said the words, it was Edmund whom other would think she was wishing luck for. They had arrived together at the training grounds after all, after having probably spent a considerable time together in other places in the castle before coming over. Oliver did know he needed that luck more than Edmund does. A master of the sword, Edmund can duel with him blindfolded and he would still win over Oliver. That was how good Edmund was, and how bad Oliver was in comparison to his brother.

Edmund had crossed the grounds to where Oliver stood waiting for him. He had an all too pleasant smile on his face, and Oliver felt a sliver of envy crawl up inside him. Of course, his brother was pleased. Had he not spent the morning with their beautiful guest? Oliver stomped the feelings down as soon as it had risen up. He needed to focus on the fight.

"There is something I was hoping I could ask your help with, Oliver," Edmund said as they both whipped their swords out and stood on guard.

What was Edmund doing? Was he trying to distract him? "What is it?" Oliver replied as they started moving in a semi-circle. Trust Edmund to talk to him casually while he himself was trying his best to focus.

"The princess is in need of help," Edmund said as he drew the first slash from left to right.

At his words, Oliver almost missed the slash and had jumped back just in time before it sliced him. Now, he was starting to suspect his brother was up to something. "What kind of help?"

Edmund saw an opening and thrust his sword towards Oliver's midsection. "The military kind."

This time, Oliver was prepared and slid to the side as his sword met Edmund's to parry the thrust away from him. "Is she going to war?"

"She's going to take back her kingdom from her usurper uncle." Edmund had brought his sword over his head and was bringing it down on Oliver. And Oliver grunted as his sword met Edmund's heavy blow in an all too weak a block.

"Concentrate, Oliver."

"How can I when you're distracting me?"

"I am not. I'm just asking for your help."

"Why does it concern you?" Oliver had to ask even though he already knew his answer, and then took the opportunity to drive his sword through Edmund's shoulder.

Of course, Edmund had easily sidestepped it and retaliated with his own slash that tore Oliver's sleeve, barely missing his arm. The near hit drew a gasp from the crowd, and then a respectful clap thereafter.

"I promised her I'll ask you to talk to the council."

"You what?!" Oliver had been expecting Edmund to tell him he had promised Yassia he would talk to Lord Bayard. But to have Edmund include him in his promise to Yassia, well, that was something totally out of the blue.

"Come on, help me out here, brother. Please," This time Edmund's strike was not as forceful as the previous ones, as if he was giving his brother some respite while he asked for his favor. Oliver easily blocked his brother's weak strike. "Take a breather," Edmund remarked as he turned away from his brother and fixed his gloves.

Edmund need not tell Oliver what he exactly meant by helping him out. His brother was definitely trying to win Yassia, get into her good graces. What better way to do that than to give her exactly what she needed. Yes, when Edmund decides to commit to something, he gives it his 100 percent. Who was Oliver to contest that?

Oliver turned his head to where Yassia was. Standing not far behind her, watching the duel just as intently, was the Lady Adelaide. Since when did she arrive in the training grounds? Oliver wondered.

When the queen saw his youngest son looking her way, she waved at him and stepped forward to stand beside Yassia. She cocked her head in Yassia's direction and smiled at his two dueling sons. "These boys, always at their games," the Queen remarked with a chuckle. "Sometimes I wish they'd forget the sword for once and go find themselves fine women to marry. I'm not getting any younger, I still want to be see my grandchildren before I off it."

As the brothers prepared to start another round, Oliver glimpsed his mother now talking to Yassia. He sincerely hoped she wasn't talking about wanting grandchildren again. Their mother, while she may be all composed and in control in court, can be a little too outspoken when it comes to matters that pertain to her sons...especially with ladies whom she liked. It wasn't hard to tell that Lady Adelaide was quite taken with the Princess of Ailantha.

An entire day of hunting was not enough to make Oliver’s nerves settle down after that rather heated night Yassia. It was heated in the sense that she almost killed him with the dagger that she had thrown his way in her anger. He couldn’t really blame her. He had been a right old brat calling Yassia names after he had discovered that she was really a princess and not some random nomad. How a fool he had been. Of course now, guilt was consuming him inside out. He hadn’t exactly been forthright himself. He, too, had chosen to hide his true identity from her. But it was because he didn’t want the magic of that moment broken. They had been happy.

And now he was far from being cheery. He even felt that the sun shining so bright and gay earlier that day was mocking his mood. He was in the pits. He felt bad for all that he had done and said to Yassia the night of the Coronation. And he knew that he had lost her forever, destroyed everything beautiful that they once shared. All because of his stupid pride.

While he can no longer cry over spilled milk now, nobody said he couldn’t drown himself in his sorrows with as much alcohol as he could consume. So here Oliver found himself stepping into The Rising Sun. It was a little too early into the night for him to go drinking, but judging from the large crowd inside the village tavern, time was not of import.

Oliver would have made a quick beeline towards the bar had he not been stopped by the sight of a little woman dancing about the tavern and singing as she went twirling among the patrons. He had caught the swish of her long wavy and messy blonde locks and the seductive sway of her hips as she literally danced past him. Drink and an entertainment. Oliver couldn’t have picked a better night for wallowing in self-pity.

When the dance was over, Oliver couldn’t believe his eyes when he realized he recognized, far too well, who the dancer was. A wide smile appeared on his lips as he immediately made his way towards where she was resting by the bar. He couldn’t have been more glad to see her here in Camelot. Her timing was impeccable. Oliver had never needed a friend to lean on to more than he does now.

“You’re mine for the night, and I will not take no for an answer,” he said as he stood behind her, his voice stern and hard as if he was some big burly thug who always gets his way with his might.

"Me neither!" Edmund exclaimed with mirth as he agreed to Yassia's words. After all that had happened, Oliver, it seemed, still haven't gotten enough of nomad women. Either that or he was really trying to rile his father up. But then it couldn't be the case, because the change in his brother had been unmistakable. It was like he had made a 180-degree turn from his old ways. If Edmund hadn't seen glimpses of Oliver's mischief every now and then, he would have thought his brother to be bewitched. But no, Oliver had finally decided to straighten his ways. For over a year now, his brother had given him valuable advice on how things ought to be done, how dealings ought to be accomplished in favor of the kingdom. Oliver's profound knowledge and relationship with the common people had proved instrumental in the many decisions that Edmund himself had to make on affairs that had been handed down to him as Crown Prince. As member of the council now, he knew his brother would prove even more helpful with his unbelievably world-wise inputs and thorough knowledge of the world outside of the kingdom. "He's probably just making a joke out of it. He loves to make my mother laugh and to give father the occasional heart attack."

Edmund was pleased to hear that Yassia was glad to be here as well. It had been a while since the halls of Mercia had been graced by visitors, lovely and esteemed ones such as her, Caitrin, and Griff. At least, Edmund knew it made his mother quite happy to be entertaining guests that were neither visiting for pure business nor for political reasons. This was all for friendship.

"Don't thank me yet. We still have a lot of work to do," Edmund told Yassia with a wink. Lord Bayard had been in the endless process of acquiring new allies. To add the Kingdom of Ailantha to that list would certainly be a good boon. They hadn't spread that far overseas, but who knows what a totally foreign ally would bring to them.

“That doesn’t sound at all like the rascal you depicted earlier.” A hearty laugh issued out of Edmund at Yassia's remark. Indeed, after all the stories he had told her about his brother, it was hard to believe that Oliver would prove to be helpful in any way. "Oh, he can still be the rascal if he wanted to be. At least now, he's a little less selfish and more focused on the good of the kingdom than anything else." Edmund watched his brother duel for a moment. An excellent sword fighter himself, he watched with intent as his brother parried with the knight. He knew Oliver excelled in archery, but his brother needed work with the sword. Then an idea came to Edmund. "Come, princess. Let's see if we can talk my brother into presenting your case to the Mercian council," he told Yassia with a knowing glint in his eyes. His hand resting on the small of Yassia's back, he led her to where the rest of the knights stood watching and cheering on the current duel. They acknowledged the prince and the princess when they arrived.

From the corner of his eyes, Oliver had seen them the very moment they arrived at the training grounds. Specifically, he saw Yassia first. It seemed like his senses were attuned to her, and they always seemed to jump with joy every time she was nearby. He immediately felt his muscles tense at the thought of her watching him duel at a sport that he didn't exactly excel in. Despite the current state their "relationship" was in at the moment, Oliver still wanted to make a good impression of himself to her. But no, not with swords, this was Edmund's turf not his. But then again there was nothing he could do but give it his best.

It didn't surprise him that it was Edmund who was showing Yassia around the castle. He had to admire his brother's determination to win the princess and in the process slowly woo her. If there ever was a person who knows what he wanted and strives with his might and mind to get it, it was Edmund. The thought of Edmund and Yassia together brought a quick stab of pain in his chest, but he knew he had to stay away and let things take their course the way Edmund wanted them. It would be all for the good of Mercia and maybe even Ailantha, and that was more important. And besides, he had lost Yassia forever. He had no more place in her heart. It would have been very complicated if their relationship now had been what it was a year before. In a way, Oliver thought this was convenient. No matter how much it hurts him right now, it was working well for everybody else. That was all that matters.

After a couple more swishing and slashing of the swords, the duel ended with the knight stumbling back, Oliver's sword at his throat. Claps and cheers resounded around them as Oliver reached a hand out to help the knight up. "You're getting better at this, sire," the knight said as he clapped Oliver in the back. Inwardly though, Oliver thought the knight had gone easy on him. He still had a long way to go when it comes to fighting with swords. "Thanks!" Still he replied with a small smile before making his way towards where Edmund and Yassia were standing. He nodded at his brother, and gave Yassia a small bow. He took his fighting glove off and reached out to take Yassia's hand and kissed it. The feel of her soft dainty hand in his sent the unmistakable jolt of electricity that was getting all too familiar, but one which Oliver could never get used to. He would never get used to her, never get enough of her. Earlier, it had been rather hard concentrating, sitting across her by the table during lunch. She looked just as beautiful as ever. A man would be a fool not to notice how radiant and heartbreakingly lovely the Princess of Ailantha was in her simple elegance. He should know. He had heard some of the knights and the servant boys talk about her with such admiration earlier. Oliver was about to say something, but Edmund had spoken up first.

"Congratulations, brother!" Edmund enthused, and Oliver slowly dropped Yassia's hand as he turned back to his brother, completely avoiding her eyes.

"Sir Raymund went easy on me," Oliver replied humbly.

"You want to duel with someone who will not?"

Oliver didn't miss the suggestive tone in his brother's voice. "I wouldn't want to take you away from the princess."

"Oh, I'm sure Princess Yassia will enjoy a good and friendly duel. Will you not, Princess? And besides, Oliver, she's our guest, it's our duty to entertain her."

There was nothing Oliver could say to that, so he nodded before turning back towards the grounds while Edmund prepared himself for the fight. Trust his brother to show off his prowess with the sword to Yassia with him on the grounds. Oliver knew this wouldn't end well. Edmund was a far better swordsman than anybody in the kingdom. Oliver knew he would be eating dust in no time. But still, he couldn't openly refuse his brother in front of Yassia now, could he? He sighed as he watched Edmund choose a training sword, then his eyes flickered over to where Yassia was standing and caught her eyes for a split second before he immediately broke the gaze off. All for the love Mercia, he told himself. When the knights and the servants realized what was coming up, a loud cheer went up in the air.

Edmund thought he heard a small whisper coming from Yassia, but easily dismissed it when she spoke out loud. Edmund nodded. "Same here. I do know he has completely moved on though. I overheard him talking to mother when he came home after hunting in the Forest of Balor last year that he was 'in love' with a nomad woman, and that he would instantly marry her if he'd meet her again. He never learns," Edmund chuckled shaking his head in obvious amusement. He cared for his brother as older brothers do, but he just wished Oliver would, for once, stop playing around and take life seriously. Although, Edmund had to admit that, since returning from that hunting trip down south, Oliver had become more interested in matters of the kingdom. He had actually hadn't gone on a days-long hunting trip since then. He was almost always by Edmund's side during council meetings or in the library poring over books of all kind. Edmund knew Lord Bayard was most proud of the change he had seen in his youngest son when the king of Mercia appointed Oliver as an esteemed member of the council before they had left for Camelot for Arthur's coronation.

"Enough about my rascal of a brother. Your brother sounds fantastic. I am so sorry for your loss." Edmund could only imagine the pain it must have caused Yassia to have someone she was closed to be taken away from her at such a young age. He had been fortunate to still have his own family in tact, but Yassia had lost so much. In a way, she had lost everything. She had lost her family, and she was on the verge of losing her kingdom as well. "We never really realize how dear our loved ones are to us until they are gone. It's a cruel fact of life," Edmund said in his efforts to comfort her. He could see that Yassia seem to be well past that sadness of losing her brother Ramon, and was looking back at the lessons she had learned from it with such wisdom, and that made Edmund quite in awe of her.

He listened curiously, deeply interested, as Yassia told him about her one moment of conflict. "Perhaps it was a test of sorts for you, princess, to know how committed and determined you are to your cause. Temptations are everywhere, I'm glad you didn't allow it take you. I never would have been given this wonderful honor to spend time with you here in my own home had it been otherwise," Edmund said, his voice taking on a soft and tender tone near the end. He was truly happy of this precious moment he had with Yassia.

Although Edmund could never really understand how it must have felt like to be conflicted, he truly admired Yassia's resilience in overcoming her conflict. His heart had always been in complete unison with his head. As Crown Prince, all he wanted was for the good of the kingdom. It was his duty, his head constantly tells him. And his heart had never wavered from it. Perhaps, it had something to do with how he was brought up by his father, the traits and values the old man had instilled in him growing up.

Nodding as Yassia outlined exactly what she needed to win Ailantha back, Edmund gave her hand another gentle squeeze. "You are not alone. You have friends here in Albion, here in Mercia, who would gladly help you take back what is rightfully yours." They had continued walking past the stables and out to an open area where the clanging of swords can be heard ringing in the air. Edmund's face lit up with sudden realization as he remembered who was practicing right now in the training grounds. Turning to Yassia, Edmund took her hand and led her out to the training grounds not far ahead. "I know father would hear my plea on your behalf. But I know someone who excels at making strategies, who can talk to the council like he owns them, and get all of them to grant you what you need in the blink of an eye." With a smile, Edmund gestured towards the middle of the grounds, to where his brother Prince Oliver was earnestly focused at dueling swords with one of the knights.