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It was certainly hard to wrap her head around, even though she had seen these scenes in front of her countless times before: in her nightmares. That must be the end of it all, yes? Arthur was in Morgana’s hands, all the hopes they had had of him returning and recapturing Camelot on his own were now ground to dust. Of course, he could still try, but the chances that he might succeed, tied up and simply… defenseless were now more than slim. It was nearly hopeless. All the pictures Yassia had always succeeded in forcing back now sneaked to the forefront of her mind, vivid, detailed pictures of the threats Morgana had sounded against her brother. Tied up… hanged, gutted, quartered… it didn’t seem so far off now, as he was already on the floor before her.

And then there was Caitrin. For a moment, life had returned into her eyes as she saw Yassia, and her concern for her friend had been genuine, Yassia knew that. But her smile had been stale, without the usual spirit that lit up Caitrin’s very being. The spirit Yassia had always admired. It seemed gone now, or at least dimmed beyond recognition. That shocked Yassia more than anything, more even than Arthur’s captivity. What on earth had Morgana done to her?! What had she found to blackmail the strong noblewoman so? For a moment a cold fist seemed to reach for her heart, squeezing it tight. Where was Griff? Had Morgana in any way laid hands on him? She really needed to ask Cait, but then maybe Caitrin had managed to keep Griff’s existence a secret from the evil queen? They may have had an argument, but she knew Caitrin still cared about him dearly. She could not risk to destroy that with a thoughtless remark!
“I am fine, Cait, don’t you worry!” she promised her friend and tried a reassuring smile. And she WAS fine, really. She might be one of those in the best condition outward an inward in this room.

With a mix of desperation and pride, Yassia listened first to what Morgana claimed of Caitrin’s betrayal, and then to Arthur’s monishing words. YES, you show her! She thought and fought hard to suppress a grin. It was a relief to know Arthur was not broken yet. Even without his clothes and in chains, he still held himself with more dignity than Morgana ever would. He was a true prince, destined to be king.
“You should always remember Arthur”, she felt the need to point out as Caitrin didn’t seem to be in the right state to do so, “a pledge of allegiance made under duress doesn’t mean anything. Caitrin’s still loyal to you!” Maybe this wasn’t lost yet. If they all stuck together, Morgana had nothing against them!

But her confidence was washed away at once, when Morgana now brought her threats to life. All her previous remarks, made to instill fear, suddenly seemed so very real. Yassia had no doubt that Morgana would let deeds follow her words. She seemed entirely without scruples. Her eyes grew wide and she felt her heart missing a beat. Would it happen, like now?! Would they start to drag them somewhere and then they would have to… her stomach twisted and nearly turned itself upside down at the prospect.
Her own protest came only a second later than Caitrin’s, and it was as fierce. “How dare you, you can’t do this!” This could only be another nightmare. Had she escaped from her uncle’s grasp only to witness another kingdom sinking into chaos? Why wouldn’t the stars do anything?! This could not be Arthur’s true fate, there had to be some big mistake! “This is even below YOU, Morgana. Come to your senses!” Like a rabbit before a snake, Yassia’s gaze was fixed on the man that now entered. There had to be something she and Caitrin could do to prevent this! They simply had to!

Out of all places to be on earth, dungeons had to be Yassia’s least favourite. Then again it was probably everyone’s least favourite. The real shame about this fact though was that she really was able to tell the difference, as this was by no means her first time being imprisoned. It might also not be the worst, as for now she had at least not been overly mistreated, though the threat had been always hovering in the air. It certainly though was the longest. But that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, as every single hour down here meant nothing had changed. Morgana still didn’t feel safe enough, wasn’t as firm in the saddle (or throne) as she’d like to be. That could only mean she still hadn’t found Arthur. That was something, wasn’t it?

Gallows humor… you really had time to develop that down here. Something to pass the time, apart from counting the drops of water that splashed on the floor somewhere in the corner. Yassia knew Caitrin must be somewhere here too, but apart from a glimpse when dragged by her friend’s cell, she had not seen or heard anything from her, and could only hope she was still in good health. Hope. Apart from the gallows humor that must be one of the few things left down here. With your wrists chafed raw by iron shackles, your muscles cramping by too little opportunity to move and your stomach rumbling with craving for food, hope for better times might be the only thing to keep you going. Yassia didn’t like being held in the position of helplessness, just biding her time until others decided for her. She had even lost count of the days that had passed, even though she could define night and day by a high up hole in the wall and by the time she was given food.

But then, something was breaking the pattern all of a sudden. She could hear heavy footsteps coming towards her cell, some already stopping a bit earlier down the corridor. She heard the rattling of keys first dimly, further away and a muffled voice, then her own cell door was opened and Yassia had to shield her eyes against the bright torchlight suddenly assaulting the dim room. Without a word, two of Morgana’s undead soldiers approached and unhooked her chains, while not removing her shackles. As she didn’t react right away, feeling too weak in her legs for them to bear her weight just yet, they roughly dragged her on her feet and out of the room. “What is this about?” she demanded to know, finally finding her voice again, though it was rather hoarse and sounded far less confident than she would have liked. No answer. Of course not. These men had never been a talkative lot in any way.

The worm of unease coiled inside her guts again and made her dread the person that would undoubtedly await her behind the door of the Great Hall that was just swinging close again as they rounded the corner. Who had been brought from the dungeons with her? And what could Morgana possibly want with them?
The door was opened for her, and Yassia tried to hold her head up high, reclaiming at least a little bit of the dignity that had been taken from her, but that was probably moot, being dragged inside like a lamb to the slaughter. There were two other people on the floor in front of her, and one of them Yassia immediately recognized with a somewhat relieved exclamation. “Caitrin!! Thank the stars, you’re alright!” Well, ‘alright’ might be a bit euphemistic concerning the circumstances they both were in, but then at least Caitrin was still alive. She didn’t seem injured or ill, as far as Yassia’s first examination concluded.

Then her eyes fell on the figure that was in front of them both, almost naked… he looked like a common peasant to her, showing only his back, and yet there was an air of dignity about him, an air of strength and unyielding willpower. And he had blond hair… “No…” the realization struck her like a vicious kick in the guts, but now she looked close there was no mistaking him. The hope she had harboured before caved in like a house of cards. “Oh please… no…”

Haha, no worries, I know Cadfeal isn't everyone's piece of cake!

I really have to get more into Elizabeth Chadwick, though that one book by her I read really wasn't that muuuuch Oooh who I can also recommend on the historical part, is Bernard Cornwell!!! He writes much about the Hundred Years War and such, and he's brilliant.

James Joyce is an Irish author of the 20th century and he's famous for Ulysses, a novel that takes place on one day in Dublin, made like the Odyssey, and is said to be typically Irish. He's also wrote some short stories called Dubliners portraying typical Dublin characters. He is a bit hard to get used to, but his word experiments are brilliant.

(banner made by Cait <333)

Yassia still had his last words vividly in her mind as she waited for him to return. I will do everything in my power to make you smile or laugh whenever I can… Did he really mean that? How could he say such a thing and yet just want them to be friends? She valued his friendship, no doubt of that, she valued it higher than many of those ‘friendships’ she had – the one to Cait being the sacred exception – but what she really wanted was more than that. Could she learn to live with less? Then again, it probably would not be for long anyway, as she would be given help by his family soon. Then she would return to Ailantha, win back her throne and thus have other problems than the choice between love and friendship. She would miss Albion and every one of these kind souls the stars had granted her at her side, no doubt of that, but she knew her place was not here. She felt the calling of her homeland like a tug at her heartstrings, and she knew it was not only homesickness. It was her destiny.

And now he had returned, seemingly very adamant on making up for what he had done wrong earlier. Who was she to deny him these tries? There might be quite an amount of selfishness from her own side involved, as the idea of a birthday not spent with remembrance and grief intrigued her. It would be her first true birthday in years. And he didn’t even know how happy that would make her. No, she probably would not tell him, it would make him self-conscious again, fearing what he did was not good enough for such a special day. He would probably want to announce it and make a public celebration out of it in the castle, while all she wanted was happening right here and there: She was spending a quiet, yet serene afternoon with the man she still loved. There could not be any better birthday present, even though it was not meant to be.
Yassia vowed to herself that she would try, try really hard to savor this day as long as it lasted. No more drama. And she hoped the stars would grant her that as their very own birthday present.

Yassia let go a chuckle at Oliver’s obvious pride of having been a good boy. It was so sweet how he tried to obey her healer commands, even though he probably felt like breaking out any second. What would she have done in his place, really? But then, the only time she had been really, severely injured, had been the same incident where she had met Oliver. She had been her own healer then, and driven by the need to reach Camelot unpertubed. She had pushed herself on and on, and it had been a good amount of luck involved that her wound had really healed properly.
“Very good, you’re a fine patient”, she lauded him with a wink as she watched him skillfully skinning the rabbits. Two years before, the sheer sight of something like that might have appalled her, but not anymore. She found time to admire his practical and self-assured, almost graceful movements.
“In any way, it doesn’t seem like your wound broke open during your river stunt”, she remarked, letting her gaze linger on his stainless shirt. “That is a very good sign, I might just lift the bow-ban from you, starting today.”

As the basket of berries was placed before her, Yassia could not resist any longer and snatched one, savouring the bittersweet taste on her tongue. For a moment it felt odd, being the one not doing anything and just watching while Oliver worked, but then she remembered that coming from her status, this was how it should be. A princess should not get her hands dirty like that. It must have been the surroundings, reminding her of the time when she had to look after herself. How odd that it should feel more ‘natural’ in these circumstances than sitting around idly.
Oliver’s question took her by surprise, but she was by no means opposed to telling him this. Maybe he felt it too, that these surroundings and circumstances practically called for reliving her nomad time, though she felt a little awkward at his admiring tone. Was she really to be admired?
“I almost lost track of the time”, she began with a soft smile, “but my estimation is about three to four months. But that was due to many facts I could not foresee. Being alone in Albion, on foot and without much money, I more often than not lost my way and had to retrace my steps.”

An almost wistful smile crossed her face as she remembered the good times and the bad. “In hindsight it feels like just one big adventure, but at that time it was hard. Though I had people that helped me. I guess, seeing someone helpless brings out the best in some… and the worst in others.”

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o.O My apologies for the length!! I didn't plan it such

Well, at least she had made the Ice Queen angry. That might a small and a stale victory, and a dangerous one as well, but Yassia couldn’t help the quick wave of satisfaction washing through her as she watched Morgana’s facial expression twitch and change. She was losing her touch at least a little bit, and had to realized not everyone would be eating out of her palm. A quick smirk crossed Yassia’s face as she thought that the new queen probably had thought this to be so much easier and was already sick of the continuous defiance. Yassia did not care so much about Uther, but she always cared about Arthur and would stay loyal to him. Morgana might be able to help her in her cause just as well as Uther would have had, but that did not mean Yassia would lean back and let things unfold, if she could help it.”I have been threatened before, by a man as vile and low as you are, and yet here I stand”, she replied, faking indifference.

She and ensure Arthur’s safety? What kind of crazy tale was that? Yassia highly doubted her influence on the young prince was that high, if anything.
”He would not listen to me, he listens to no one”, she shrugged. “Besides, as you say, WHEN he returns to Camelot, he might return not to talk, but to fight. I might have little time for a convincing chit-chat.” It was high hopes to envisiom Arthur returning with anything near a force able to recapture Camelot. Morgana truly had a few aces up her sleeve and a promising hand as well. Only a miracle could help Arthur now, once Morgana had established herself in Camelot like a spider in her net. But then Yassia had been in Camelot long enough to know that miracles DID happen. If anywhere, then it was here.

That didn’t help her in the slightest right now, however. Yassia knew Morgana’s threats might not be all that empty. She could be very well losing her tongue, if she carried on like this, and yet, it was so difficult to shut up when she was faced with such blatant injustice and folly.
She would have liked to say: ‘Once I don’t have a tongue I won’t be able to convince anyone’, but she stopped herself at the last minute. Morgana was like an angry lioness, you better not aggravated her too much. Instead, she relieved her anger by murmuring a few low insults in her mother tongue Morgana would not understand, then she looked up again.
”If you want my support, you would have to show me something that is worth of my support, Morgana.All I see here is threats and no promises you would keep given half the chance. I don’t desire much, it would be truly ‘queenly’ to grant it first.”

As soon as the defiant words about her uncle left Yassia’s lips, she wished she had not voiced them at all. Would she never learn?! Hadn’t her previous experience with people like Morgana shown her enough that you should never show any weakness before the enemy? Because right now Morgana could be seen as nothing else in Yassia’s eye: an ill-meaning enemy, and she had the upper hand. The smile told he before even words were spoken that she had made a big mistake. She had offered Morgana the leverage she needed to get her to cower. Yassia knew she would never forgive herself if anything happened to Kaye. He was the only relative she had left from her mother’s side,the last link to her and her Camelotian roots. And he was also the only well-meaning relative she might have left. But then, Morgana didn’t know that. She only knew that she had an uncle and that she had asked about his whereabouts. Nothing about her special relationship to him. Maybe she could fool Morgana… make him seem less worthy of leverage in her eyes.

Unbidden, Yassia rose to her feet, tired of kneeling in front of someone she had no respect for. If Morgana wanted her to cower again, well she had means to make her, but Yassia would never bow her head before her voluntarily. That was giving her far too much credit. The self-proclaimed Queen was powerful and she was cunning, but Yassia was of royal blood as well and she had grown up at a court that could be the dearest viper’s nest at times. She knew how to stand her ground, and she had grown up to GIVE orders, not accept them.
”Even if you wanted it, Morgana, I could not pledge allegiance to you. I am no subject of Camelot. I am a guest, and as such I deserve to be honored, not threatened. Have you lost your good manners entirely in these last few days? Has power made you so weak?”

Yassia knew she was playing a dangerous game, but she could not stop herself. She was playing on a superiority she didn’t possess, but she needed to stand her ground. She had no idea how Morgana would react to her resistance, but she hoped it would not be too desastrous for those she held dear.
”So, if it is not allegiance you can have from me, what would you want anyway?” she asked, fixating Morgana with a dim light of interest in her eyes. If you played this game, you better knew about the cards in your adversaries hands…

There was this nagging feeling in Yassia’s guts that something was afoot. Something highly unpleasant. Ever since Lady – Queen Morgana had taken up the crown of Camelot such unpleasant things occurred on a daily basis. Yassia didn’t belong in Camelot, it shouldn’t be her concern. But since Sir Kaye was her uncle, everything that was about the Knights of Camelot WAS her concern! Sir Kaye might be old and more an adviser than a real fighting knight, but he, too, had not returned home to his estate where she had been waiting for him. Where was he? Of course no one would tell her anything, not where he was now that the foreign soldiers had taken over the citadel, nor how he fared, if he even was still alive. The lot of a mere woman, she presumed. And then again, another woman had caused all this, where was the justice in that?!And now she had been summoned before the new queen, two grim guards with the crest of the new regime on their gambesons accompanying her. The tree… not the red dragon anymore. It was not right. She felt more like a prisoner than a guest all of a sudden. All this reminded her too strongly about the time after her father’s sudden death. When Guifré had acted like the crown was all for him, or his son. Outwardly, he had been showing kindness towards his grieving niece, but she had seen it in his eyes, he wanted her either gone or safely married off to Stépahne. Would Ailantha, now that she had been gone for almost a year, bear his coat of arms instead of the old king’s? Why had this all found a way of sneaking up on her again? It was a horrid distorted picture of her own life: Now a woman SAT on the throne, but it didn’t look like this would benefit Camelot in any way…

What did Morgana want with her? They had reached the throne room now, a familiar place for Yassia, where she had watched King Uther reside, framed by Arthur and Morgana many times. Now Morgana was sitting on the main throne, looking down at her nose at the approaching figure, her face a mask of regal arrogance. What had happened to the kind face Yassia had come to know? Now the contrast of the black lined eyes, her pale skin and the lurid red mouth made her look more like a puppet then a human being. One of the guards ushered her to kneel, and Yassia obliged after an irked glare. She didn’t like this. A few days ago, the two of them had been all but equals, Yassia maybe even a bit above her! Yassia was the daughter of a king, Morgana was only a ward… or not. The revellation that had shaken the court to the bone was still to new to grasp: Morgana was Uther’s daughter.

But for now, with being crowned queen, however injustly in Yassia’s eyes, Morgana had the upper hand and she had to play along. So she waited, inwardly fuming, for the new queen to speak.

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Tag: MorganaTimeline: Between Coming of Arthur I and II
Time of Day: Afternoon

Of course he would be gloating now. Yassia had almost expected it, and was even a little relieved to see it happen. That meant Vortigern was not as unforseeable and wayward as she had feared. If his actions could be calculated to a certain extent, she might do well preying on that fact.She had to count her blessings anyway, and make do with whatever little things she could hold against him. Even halfway anticipating what he could do next would be of great help!But was gloating really the only thing he would do? She thought with a sickening tightening of her stomach as he began to tread closer yet again. Her mind might still fight back, but her body already inched away from his mere presence. It was an instinct that seemed to come natural with being beaten. How would she know, she had never been mistreated in all her life.

”Bowing would be a good start!” she heard herself say. Curse her tongue! Why couldn’t she simply stay quiet for a moment? WHEN would she learn her lessons for the star’s sake?! She was already kneeling, how much lower did she desire to go?
The spitting was probably a worse insult that any words could ever be, and Vortigern must very well know that. Anger boiled up in Yassia again and she very well wanted to spring up and hurl herself at him, trying to beat some sense into his arrogant brain. But he probably would just laugh and brush her off like a fly. She didn’t want to give hime THAT satisfaction as well, but she also knew she couldn’t stay silent to what he had said. He had put the finger right on her dearest wound, and if only to convince herself he was wrong,she would have to speak out against his twisting of the situation.

”I am NOT a coward!” she hurled at him, eyes flashing like lightening. “I am not fleeing, I am going to get help! I am doing this FOR my people, not against them! And whatever you’re doing you cannot stop me! You’re not as superior as you think, Vortigern! I bet your father knows nothing of this! I’d rather be a peasant than to insult royalty in such a way as you do, you rat!”
Once again, that was the treacherous thing about her tongue, mixed with the hot Ailanthan temper: She might start out comparatively considerate, but once she went off about something there was no stopping her. Not even in a situation such as this. She did not know where she pulled the strength for that from, just that it might not be the best thing to rely on.

He agreed with her about stretching sore limbs, but Yassia found she rather would have him not agree. He probably did the right and proper thing in increasing the distance between them even more, but it didn’t feel like the right thing. It felt like the worst thing on earth. How could she be so ensnared by him already, after just one day? She had never believed in such things, simply because they had never happened to her before and she knew they were not supposed to happen to a princess. But now here with Oliver, it was all happening, at the worst time imaginable. Yassia tried to tell herself that it was all good, that their distance now would make the parting easier later, and yet she felt tears burning behind her eyes that shouldn’t be there. Tears of utmost sadness and devastation. But Oliver seemed so strong about this. She needed to be too.
”Well after being my pillow for one night, and you agreeing to be used as such, I think it is only right if I release you of this duty now, so you can become the huntsman you are once again”, she said with a fake blasé voice as if she was passing a royal decree. “And as such, you of course need your lissom limbs, so you can sneak up on your victims, be they cockatrices or innocent maidens.” She was now willingly reusing quotes from their talk from last night, trying to keep at least some of the spirit alive, even though it might not be the wisest decision. But she wanted him to know she had not forgotten, that she would never forget, even if they should never meet again, which was more than likely.

It strill striked Yassia as kind of odd that a beverage such as moca should be so easily accessible in Albion, but then she dismissed it. That made it actually easier for herself. In Ailantha, moca was only known to those who had enough money to buy it, as it was very expensive. Raiders from the East had brought it there ages ago, but it had always stayed a luxury product. In Ailantha, the talk of moca would have revealed her as wealthy and probably noble in the blink of an eye, and she was glad that in Albion the charade actually seemed to hold. She would need to remember that for later,and keep her eyes open for it.
Taking one last sip from the hot liquid and feeling the warmth and energy slowly waking her up, Yassia then put her hand into Oliver’s and slowly tried to get to her feet. It didn’t help her overall shakiness that touching him sent a hot sting and tingling all through her body deep down into some core she only had discovered yesterday, but then she was finally standing, though leaning a little on him for support.

”That wasn’t even that hard!” she said, relief obvious in her voice. It meant she would be on her way again soon, that the injury wouldn’t hinder her as much as she had feared. Then she let her gaze wander over the little clearing, now finding the time to examine it for the first time ever since being shot here. It was quite an amiable surrounding, for the bad reputation this forest had.On the edge of the clearing, there was even a bush of wild white roses in full bloom.
”What do you intend to do with the cockatrice?” she asked, seriously interested.