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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yassia gave a light chuckle as Lady Adelaide mentioned the ‘things women talk about’. It made her think back on a conversation now almost a year ago she had had with Caitrin.They had sounded off together against the typical women tasks like needlework, even though Yassia was not as opposed to them as Caitrin had appeared to be. They had sworn a solemn vow that they would kill each other before their lives became so dull stitching patterns was all they could talk about with each other, and even though it had been sounded only in jest, Yassia still would never let this subject come up between them as long as she could help it.
”That sounds wonderful to me”, she assured warmly, “and I really do hope we will be granted that time. Lady Caitrin will be most welcome to it, shall I ask her to join us when we have a set time, or do you want to ask her yourself?”
Hopefully there would really be little needlework involved or else Caitrin might consider declining that honor. On the other hand, if Caitrin was absent, Yassia feared to be interrogated about the wrong kinds of things, especially including her fancy of men, without having a friend near that knew about her situation and could steer the conversation to less painful topics. Even though Yassia felt like she could trust Lady Adelaide with more than her life and maybe her innermost thoughts, she had promised Oliver to keep their encounter a secret. She would honor this promise, because she had her pride!

Even though she knew most of it, Yassia couldn’t help but be all ears as Lady Adelaide told her more about Oliver. It was like she was acting under duress, like being coaxed by a drug, she just drank every information about Oliver in like her life depended on it – which was ridiculous of course; it only enforced the pain. Since when had she become such a masochist?
Nearly gasping in shock, she turned it skilfully into a little laugh, shaking her head. Learning from Oliver? Spending even more time with him? The treacherous part of her, the one that refused to forget him jubilated at the sheer thought, but she knew she could not do this. She had lost the right to that the moment he rejected her, for whatever twisted reason. She had vowed to herself she would not run after him, beg him to love her again, and if she didn’t honor this vow, she could as well forgo her whole pride.
”It is sweet of you to suggest that, Mylady, but I fear I might be hopeless.” She was lying now, openly lying for her poor heart’s sake. Throwing daggers like she had learned from her brother and later stepbrother demanded skill and a good aim as well. She probably wouldn’t even be that bad in archery.

Still, Oliver’s mother had done it now, and while Yassia still stried to focus on the fight, she could not shake off the images that unbiddenly crept into her mind. First she saw the adorable picture of Oliver teaching a few boys the basics of archery while they looked up to him in awe. He was good with children apparently… another side of him she hadn’t known. Slowly though that picture altered and she suddenly saw herself with him on a meadow, trying to hold a bow, while he laughed at her efforts and suddenly stepped behind her…
A loud gasp snapped her out of her ridiculous reverie, and when she focused her eyes on the field again, she saw that the air of the fight had somehow changed. Where before there had been reckless but still good-natured bantering, now there seemed to be solid determination. Edmund’s blows came as quick and vicious as the attacks of a poisonous snake, and Oliver was all but cornered, barely holding up. What had happened here?

Yassia’s right hand balled into a tight fist and she held her breath, feeling something like dread creeping onto her without even knowing why. Something was afoot. Something horrible, and all she could do was watch. Again and again Edmund’s sword came down on Oliver and twice he only escaped by a hair’s breath
”What are they doing?!” she exclaimed to no one in particular, “this is…”
Her further words drowned in another gasp from the audience that was itself cut short by a pained outcry – coming from Oliver!
At first, Yassia was too shocked to even move; like rooted on the spot she watched as Oliver staggered backwards and fell, and even before he hit the ground, Yassia saw blood seeping through the fabric of his tunic. For her it seemed like he fell in slow motion, horribly decelerated like this was not real, but a nightmare.
But the moment he hit the ground, the full impact of the incident caught up with Yassia. Forgetting all vows of secrecy, forgetting her pride and even forgetting all countenance, she rushed forward, past the shocked knights and a startled Edmund, crying out: “OLIVER!!!!”

Dropping to her knees beside him, she took his head up in her hands, feeling his wonderful locks between her fingers. But she had no time for nostalgia now. Her healer eyes skilfully estimated the situation. Much blood, but not too much to make it lethal. The blade had missed the heart by inches, thank the stars!
Striking lightly on Oliver’s cheek, she urged him: “Can you hear me? Wake up… oh please wake up!” The next would be stilling the bloodflow. As it was already stained by Oliver’s blood, Yassia ripped one of the long trails of her sleeve off without further ado. She had all but forgotten about her surroundings, there was only Oliver for now.

Someone tell me why I am so nervous, Yassia thought as her hands tightened around each other as soon as both princes took up the weapons and started to circle each other like hungry wolves. This is nothing but a training fight, so get a grip on yourself, Prinèesa! Calling herself with her formal title in her own language helped a bit, as she had also adopted the mental tone of her father on the rare occasions he had needed to reprimand her. Nothing could help her better to get a grip than this one word sound in this particular, slightly warning way. And yet if could not chase away the feeling of unease completely, even though she tried to be nothing but rational. She also couldn’t help but notice that her anxiety was not equally divided between the two brothers, and that was what upset her most. After everything that happened, could she really still feel afraid for Oliver?! It was pathetic, really! He didn’t deserve her fear, he did deserve nothing from her! What did she care if his brother sliced him in half, he had that coming big time anyway!

But who was she fooling? Somehow he still had a place in her heart even though she tried so hard to fight it. And Edmund really was the better of the two with a sword, and he had said he won’t go easy on Oliver on top of it. A little anxiety was justified there, no? This was all just far too confusing, but glaldy for Yassia, the fight took on speed soon, so she forgot about her thoughts and merely focused on what she had to follow with her eyes.
It was obvious now that Edmund excelled in swordfight, and Yassia couldn’t help but admire his swiftness and cunning, he surely gave his brother scarcely time to breathe. Oliver stood his ground, but it was clear to see where the advantage lay. Maybe it wasn’t that bad she had wished him good luck earlier, he seemed to need it. It was no shame to have other specialties than swordplay, and Yassia surely didn’t belong to this kind of noblewoman who looked down on all other weapons. The sword might be deemed the most noble, but she had seen and witnessed first hand how good Oliver was with his bow, and she held far more admiration for this kind of weapon. If, of course, one HAD to use the word admiration.

From where she stood, Yassia could see that they were talking while exchanging blows, but she could not gather every word, as the wind got hold of the sound and diverted it as soon as it left their mouths. From the snippets she DID catch though, Yassia was surprised to realize Edmund apparently had chosen this opportunity to present her request to Oliver. Great! He might not know it, but there was probably nothing as distracting as anything concerned with herself for Oliver right now. She was his red rag, she realized that. And yet, she could not help but listen more closely, trying to catch Oliver’s replies. What would he say?
Meanwhile the fight was getting more heated, and Yassia found herself wincing, almost opening her mouth for an outcry as Edmund’s sword missed Oliver’s arm by a fraction of an inch, only tearing open the fabric of his sleeve, and gladly not his flesh.
"You what?!"
That rang clearly over the training ground and caused a few knights to exchange curious glances. Yassia was as intrigued as them, wondering what on earth Edmund exactly had said to provoke such an reaction from Oliver. Yassia’s stomach tightened in a sickening feeling, even though she could not even tell why. But there was something else afoot here, something she had realized earlier, she just still couldn’t put her finger on it.

Yassia had been so enthralled with the fight she hadn’t even noticed someone approaching her from behind. She only saw the knights shuffle out of the corner of her eyes, and when she tore her gaze away from Oliver and Edmund, she saw Lady Adelaide standing next to her.
”Mylady!” she greeted softly, bowing her head, while her eyes still flickered towards the training ground. With more polite than real interest she listened to what their mother had to say and couldn’t help a fine smile playing around her lips. In any other circumstances she would have given this woman her full attention, as she deserved nothing less. In her whole demeanour, so blunt without being insolent, she reminded Yassia often enough so much of her own mother it hurt. That, she had learned also by being around Caitrin, must be the Albion way. In Ailantha, a lady would have never voiced her wishes for her sons to marry so openly. She would have hid it in little comments here and there, but never openly addressed the topic of grandchildren.

”But you are still young, Mylady”, she protested fervently. “And so are your sons! Give them a little time and I am sure they will find someone who will benefit both them and the kingdom.” Well, whoever Oliver would choose, she could only hope this someone would never betray him. Yassia’s heartbeat accelerated again as she saw Oliver quickly glancing her way and then preparing for another round. It had been rather gracious of Edmund to offer his brother some respite as he was already one combat in advance. Without even so much wanting it, she voiced her next train of thoughts:
”You can be proud of them, you know. Each of them has his own impeccable qualities. What one might lack, the other makes up for.”

How was it possible to fall from the highest heights of hope down to the harsh reality and being soused with ice cold water on top of it within seconds?! Really, the amount of emotional changes Edmund had put her through in the last couple of minutes couldn’t be called anything but crazy, and yet he had not the slightest inkling of it all.
A joke. It could all be nothing but a joke. He enjoyed to make his mother laugh and give his father near heart attacks. There needn’t be anything behind those words at all. What a fool she was to readily assume he had really meant it! Didn’t his latest behavior show he did not want her anymore? It didn’t matter what had been back then, it was as distant and unreachable as a dream. The thought hurt Yassia deep inside, but she knew she had to pull strength from that pain. She had to move on. He had. And it should be enough to know that them meeting and him making his vow had made Oliver change his ways, so that his family now could be proud of him. It should be enough… but somehow it wasn’t.
“A joke… of course”, she answered with a fake smile. “That sounds more likely. We cannot change who we are after all.”

Edmund was right, there still was a long way to go, and even he could not decide things all on his own. His father needed to agree to this rescue plan, and also possibly some sort of council. Yassia didn’t know how things worked here in Mercia, but she had witnessed first hand in her own kingdom that a king was only sovereign as long as the crown council, mostly consisting of trusted lords of the realm, stood beside him in the matters. Without their consent, he could do nigh to nothing. Guifré had gotten to know their strength in their denial to change the rules of succession in his favor, but then they had also nearly turned on Yassia, wanting her to agree to marrying her cousin. So Edmund could promise all he wanted in advance, he was right to smother her high hopes.
“Yes, you are entirely right, the way to go is still long and might not be easy, but it’s the consent that matters to me most”, she looked at him pointedly. “To know that I am, in fact, not alone in this fight.”

Yassia was far too caught up in watching Oliver’s swift and elegant movements with the sword to pay any more heed to what Edmund said to her. She heard the words, but she didn’t take them in, fascinated with the fight before her. She had never felt the urge to be able to handle a blade herself, but she loved watching duels nevertheless, their deathly elegance that seemed almost like a dance sometimes, with the whole body in motion. Of course, this was only a training fight and therefore didn’t hold the anxious thrill of a real fight to the death, but that didn’t make it any less fascinating. Even with her little expertize, Yassia could tell that Oliver might not be in his right element when wielding a sword. He was good, no question of that, but she wondered if Edmund would be better.

Feeling Edmund’s hand on the small of her back into reality somewhat, but not completely. It was a fond gesture, but it was not over-intrusive and so she let it happen. Maybe he had realized the absence of her mind and wanted to guide her in the right direction?
“Yes, let’s ask him, if he’s not too busy right now”, she answered belatedly to his suggestion, but just when she said that, it nearly drowned in the uproaring cheer as Oliver suddenly lunged forward, caught the other knight by surprise and only a heartbeat later had the tip of his sword at the other’s throat. It was a clear victory, and Yassia impulsively joined in the cheer, but of course only by clapping her hands, everything else would have not been befitting. She couldn’t quite suppress the surge of happiness she felt for him in that moment, and her heart started to beat in a frenzy as he approached her.

He kissed her hand. She knew it was nothing but a courteous gesture, a necessity, but her heart was slow to learn, as was her body. Every inch of her skin he touched either with his breath as he aspirated a kiss on the back of her hand or by holding said hand, sprung alive and felt like being set aflame. There was no stopping the memories that came surging into her mind as this simple gesture, memories of her snuggling into his strong, supporting arms… but she needed to stop!! These were only memories never to return! And in the meantime he had insulted her, had called her a nothing short of a whore, an evil witch. He might have matured, but he had also closed his heart to her.

As they decided on another fight, Yassia forced herself to smile and incline her head gracefully. In all honesty, she had nothing against watching a little more fighting, especially not when that also meant it would put the awkward talk between her and Oliver a little bit off. Asking him for help, him of all people! Taking a few steps back, she crossed her hands over her bosom, a totally courteous and modest posture, but she did it more out of habit, because she felt comfortable in it… and because it kept her hands occupied.
“Good luck, my prince”, she called out, and everyone would have assumed she meant Edmund. Maybe her mind had even meant to, but her eyes, her treacherous eyes had found Oliver in the moment she spoke these word. And it was also the very same moment he seemed to look at her, which sent Yassia’s heart into another frenzy.

In all frank honesty, Yassia did not want to hear more about this particular topic, but then she was also drinking in every word Edmund said like a sponge. This might be her only chance to get to know more about Oliver from a so far unbiased side. If she asked Caitrin, her friend would immediately know where her questions were headed and she might alter her answer thus. Plus, she hadn’t seen Oliver in years while Edmund saw him practically every day Oliver chose to stay in Mercia and not run after some precious game with his friends.
But what Edmund said now, about how his brother had nearly forwent his title to be with what gypsy woman, made Yassia pale. He must have been truly madly and deeply in love with this woman to risk such a fate, and yet he had decided with his head and not his heart in the end. If this woman had been only half as much in love with him, it must have broken her own heart. When he had told her of this incident a year ago, it hadn’t sounded so… universal. Their own, petty story seemed nothing against it, and maybe that was why he had been so easy on forgetting it, despite his words.
”I… didn’t know it went that far”, she whispered, but in an instant recognzed her slip. She didn’t sound like someone hearing this for the first time! Hastily she corrected: “I mean… I couldn’t IMAGINE something like that going that far… and I’m glad as well he made the right choice.”

The question about her brother proved an amiable distraction, and Yassia all too eagerly delved into it.
”Ramon was a few years older than me and heir to the throne.We’ve never been inseperable, but we got along well. He was no rascal, he recognized his duties and acted on them, but sometimes he could be found ‘kidnapping’ his siter to the nearby forest, to teach her how to throw daggers so their parents wouldn’t know.” A weary smile crossed her face. “Only when he died when I was fourteen, I realized I had pretty much taken him for granted. How much he really meant to me, because he simply had always been there.” The wound of losing him had hower healed over the years,while the wound that had been caused by Mircea’s death was still raw and fresh. She better not talked about him too often, even though she would want to.

Slowly Yassia began to ask herself why Edmund was asking all of these deep questions that seemed to put her through some sort of acid test. Was that what he wanted? Test her? Or was she being paranoid and he was just genuinely interested? Normally the questions that were asked by courtiers were more superfluos, something you could start a light conversation over, but this went deeper. It actually almost went to her core, and this of all questions brough her desperately near to another incident with Oliver again. For a weird moment Yassia even wondered if Edmund knew… and wanted to set a trap. But that was ridiculous of course.
Knowing she could not lie about such a strong subject too well,Yassia tried to keep it vague.
”Once”, she admitted, casting her eyes down as if she was ashamed, while in fact she desperately tried to mask the truth in her eyes, afraid her could read it. “Once there was a time when I had a wild moment and actually wanted to leave my quest, because I thought I had found something more, something better, not regarding the wellbeing of my people.” Again she sighed and then looked up as she deemed it safe again. “But the sheer fact that I am here proves my head won out over my heart.”

And yet, what if she had taken the risk? Now she knew who Oliver was, she knew she simply should have told him the truth back then. He would have been surprised perhaps, but it would have eliminated all their problems in one go. Their love would have had a future and she would not have wasted a year in Camelot, waiting for help that probably would not come. A needless detour, a cruel twist of fate by unforgiving stars. And now it was too late.
”I don’t need all that much”, she explained to his gladly easier question. “You know how it is in politics, sometimes a little saber-rattling succeeds were an open confrontation could fail. I need to return with the open evidence of that I am not alone, that I have support from a mighty kingdom that will aid me, and that will show my uncle he won’t get away with ursupation.” At least she hoped that would be enough.

Yassia hid a smile as she listened to Edmund’s words. She should have guessed the conversation would sooner or later take this turn. Seriously, was that all men cared about? Fortification, camouflage and war? It really seemed to be a big topic for princes in general. When Vortigern had tortured her he had wanted to know details about Ailantha’s defenses in general and the castle’s in particular. It was all for these games of war. Build your own castle and try to overthrow those of the others… and sadly it was this stupid game that caused so much pain in the world. Ailantha had not taken part in it for so many years, but now with her uncle all but in charge, there was no telling where it would all lead.
And then Edmund spoke about Oliver, and Yassia’s first impulse was to just not listen, to close her ears off to what he was saying, as she did not want Oliver to enter her thoughts yet again, but she couldn’t help but listening nevertheless, as what Edmund said was rather intriguing. This was more the Oliver she knew, not the one he had been posing as ever since… posing? Hadn’t she been convinced just moments before that this was the real Oliver and that his carefree, kind self had been nothing but a lie? How come that a single word by Edmund could turn this view upside down?
Because he knows him better than you do…. A small voice in her head replied. Because he is his brother…

”Is that so?” she commented, acting the innocent. No one could know after all that she knew this side of Oliver very well indeed. “Well, I myself have seen the dangers of a forest first hand, and I probably wouldn’t trade them for a castle for long. Then again… the forest CAN be beautiful and even castle walls can be more a prison than protection. It all depends on the intentions both have towards you.” She mused rather thoughtfully. While escaping from the prison her own castle had become to her, the forest and the so-called wilderness had been the epitome of freedom to Yassia, because they had been the medium that would bring her to safety. It really all depended on the situation you found yourself in, and she could not blame Oliver for liking the nature around him. It might be a little irresponsible to always keep away and play the huntsman, but then he had a brother that was responsible enough for them both as it seemed. There truly could not be two brothers as different as Oliver and Edmund of Mercia.

Now he told her he admired her for her bravery, but somehow Yassia couldn’t quite shake off the feeling that it was nothing but lip service, that he had caught on her irritation and now sought to appease her. But why was she thinking so badly of him? It surely wasn’t deserved! He might be a little more courteous than his brother, but that was something she had grown up to, yes? She should get used to it again, before it got her into serious trouble.
”I only did what I thought was the best for my kingdom”, she warded off his praise. “I never sought to be admired.” Funny, wasn’t it? Again this was a sentence she had said once before… but to Oliver… about Edmund. And now she was walking in circles once again.

A bitter laugh escaped Yassia’s lips at Edmund’s jibe. He had probably meant well, but he had just right hit a huge nerve. “I could never like him! He might have been handsome and all the ladies of the court swooned at his sheer sight, but he was weak, completely under his father’s thumb!” She nearly spat that out, but then took a deep breath, calming both her mood and her voice. “Forgive me… I should not have spoken in such a manner.”
She winced at his next words. Again he was hitting a nerve and this time she was not as forgiving. What did he know, really?! He only had heard half of the story and was nothing but assuming!
”Don’t think I don’t know that”, she forced out between gritted teeth. “But I did not flee to save myself, I fled to find help! I knew I still had relatives here from my mother’s side and they were my only hope! If I stayed, Guifré would have got the kingdom for sure and forever!”