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Though it had taken a few seconds, now the girl’s manners seemed to kick in, Yassia observed with an inward smile. Granted, she was not the regal sight she usually had about her, as her riding gown truly was in a sorrow state, she could not readily assume anyone would guess her status, even more so as she was a foreigner to every observant eye. If it didn’t show in her olive skin tone and her brown/seagreen eyes, it certainly would become evident in her speech. She was fluent in the language of her mother, but she still added that certain trill to some consonants.
And anyway, she had come here to ask for new clothes being made, not to boss anyone around. That woman might be her inferior, but that didn’t mean Yassia had any right to treat her without respect on her own accord. She had never believed in such a way of consulting with commoners.

So she put on a kind and open face and nodded to Vailea’s statements. “A pleasure to meet you as well, Miss Vailea. I thank you for your kind words and I have no doubt that your tailor shop will suit my needs just fine!”
She wasn’t here to make enemies, after all,and happy people, people who liked to serve you were prone to do better work and do it with a smile on their faces. It might not be her prime concern if the lower classes were happy, that much of an aristocrat she truly was, but they needn’t be unhappy instead. There was some space in between those two extremes, right?

The princess didn’t need to ponder about Vailea’s next question for more than just a second. Pre-made? Of course not! She might be vain, but even that put aside, anything that was not custom clothing simply would not do! Not for someone of her status! Even more so as she was in a foreign country, she needed to look the part as well. She represented more than just her own interests by being here, she represented her whole kingdom, and everything she did or did not would inevitably come back on the view the Camelotians had of Ailantha. It was a hard burden to shoulder sometimes, but then again it would only be helpful and steel her for her future as queen, where she was under even more surveillance than she had ever been as princess!

”Oh, I think custom clothing will be best!” she told Vailea, not showing any of the thoughts that had been racing inside her head in the short few moments that had passed. “I don’t know much about Camelotian fashion, but I’ve seen some models at the castle already I found very nice. Can you help me with that, Miss Vailea?”

One thing Yassia would probably never get used to while living in Albion was the pouring, miserable rain that seemed to be coming out of nowhere. And what was equally unfathomable was the good grace with which the people simply seemed to accept it as inevitable. When they planned a party, they erected pavillons so at least the majority of people would stay comparably dry, and they simply ignored the oncoming chill that went with every shower. Was Yassia too spoilt because she felt at least a little bit uneasy in this pouring rain, even though she knew nothing really bad could happen? After all, it was no tempest where lightening could strike one of the pavillons and set it on fire…

When she dared to voice her complaint about the weather to young Lady Hyld of Hawkhurst, whose 18th birthday was the cause of this festivity and to whom Yassia had formed a tender bond of friendship during her stay in and around Camelot, the said lady only laughed it off, already a little dizzy from too much dancing and too much undiluted wine. “Oh come ON, Yassia, don’t be such a princess!” “Well, face it, I am” “Doesn’t mean you need to behave like one!” “Hey, ever heard of fulfilling expectations? I’m only trying to live up to the clichés”
This was the usual turn their banter took every time Yassia voiced her dismay about something that Hyld simply regarded as natural, and though they had talked it through countless times, it never ceased to amuse both women.

“Go and find yourself some young gentleman to dance”, Hyld suggested then. “I’ve seen the Lord of Turnbrigde stare your way all day!” Yassia snorted with laughter. “You want to marry me off so badly? That man must be past his fifties!” That earned her a hefty dig in the ribs. “I meant his son, silly!”
But the ensuing merry laughter was abruptly cut off when a band of ragged and almost menacing looking man, heavily armed, entered the place of celebration, simply the center of the tiny village on their horses. The music stopped and the merry tunes were replaced by the low murmur of voices. Not many of the feasting crowd were armed, but those who were Yassia could observe putting hands on sword hilts and moving forward slowly to shield there loved ones. Even Yassia herself had moved in front of Hyld instinctively. She was standing closest to the arriving party and could make out some crest on the saddle rugs, though heavily covered in mud. Those were no thugs, she was almost sure of that.

As no one seemed able or willing to take the first step, and as the silence grew more and more loaded with hostility, Yassia felt it was her duty to break the ice, even though she was a nobody in this country.
Leaving the shelter of her pavillon, she took a step forward and raised a hand in greeting.
“In the name of Hyld of Hawkhurst and her father, you are welcome to this village and this celebration, Sirs. If your intentions bear no ill will. If that is the case, then leave your weapons with your horses and join us. If however your intentions are not proper, then turn around and leave this place as you are not welcome.”
Her voice was laced with regal authority; the very one she had practically imbibed from early infancy. Even if she was walking out on a thin limb here, she felt it was her duty to act as such. Even slowly starting to get wet, she knew she also looked the part

None of this was acting, Yassia realized more and more. Gwaine really seemed shattered, and even though the princess was still all but a novice on that field, she recognized love when it stared her in the face. For that she didn’t need any stories or personal experience, a blind man would have seen the same! She just wished Gwaine wouldn’t be so overdramatic in everything he did. He acted like he was citing a bad juggler’s tale, and the worst thing of it all was he really felt and believed what he said. As surprised as she was that Romily apparently had told Gwaine about Frederick but seemingly not the whole story, that was slightly crowded out by her amusement despite the hopelessly muddled situation.

“She told you about him? And that she hates nobles? Oh…” Again Yassia was unsure how to venture on, but Gwaine’s dramatic explanation sent her laughing. Not to mock him, but to bring him back to reality.
“Now come on, tone it down Gwaine”, she chided him. “I always knew you were one for drama, but this is too much. Not that I don’t believe you, but it’s a bit hard to listen to after some time. Lying never solves anything. Don’t you think if she really wants you, she could finally learn to let the past be the past? How little you trust her!”
A slightly bold statement, as Romily just had ran away at this revelation, but Yassia was sure the main part had been shock and the awareness of having been lied to. “I thought you knew so much about women, but apparently I have to tell you one important thing: Above all, more than anything we hate to be lied to, regardless the motives.”

Gwaine still seemed caught up in his despair, still moaning about his lost love, instead of trying to do something about it. If Yassia had learned anything in her time travelling and that hard time before that, after her father’s death, then that if you really wanted something, you had to fight for it no matter what, instead of wallowing in self-pity. But would harsh words be the best approach? Maybe Romily was not the only one needing a friend right now.
So Yassia acted on the spur of the moment, taking Gwaine’s hand and tugging it softly.
“Stop! Not another word. I will not have you tear your own heart out in the most painful way possible. You made a mistake, but believe me Romily made a mistake as well. So what we need now is not self-pity, but action. Come, we’ll look for our Romily, she can’t have gotten far! Be the Gwaine I know, the man of action, the knight. Romily loves this man, even though she didn’t know his true background. But a background doesn’t make a man. Just what he wants.”

Yassia raised her head in mild surprise when Uther brought the topic on Arthur’s servant boy. Could it be he meant Merlin? That very same Merlin she had treated on a crossbow wound just a few weeks ago? It hardly seemed possible, but then again, did Arthur really have any more servants directly to his command? That seemed highly unusual. But Merlin, mental afflicted? Given, she had not noticed much coming from him as he had been in a state of unconsciouness due to pain most of the time, and it might be a bit stupid indeed to be the one of all people getting hit by a bolt when running from your enemies, but call him an idiot just like that?

“You mean Merlin?” she ascertained just to be completely sure. “Well, I’ve met him before and can’t say I’ve found him very mental afflicted, but of course you all know him better than I do.” And that Merlin seemed to be this Gaius’ ward and assistant was also interesting. Hadn’t he been so out of it, maybe he could have even treated himself then. There hadn’t been much time to talk back then, and not much opportunity to, else Yassia would have been much the wiser concerning Arthur’s status above all. She still couldn’t wrap her head around it sometimes and still remembered the shock it had caused when she had stumbled over him in the hallway just a few days ago. “And by no means would I ever challenge your judgement in this matter. I haven’t seen him ever since and I hope he recovered well from that crossbow wound. As for Gaius”, she finished with a smile, “I am sure I will get on with him well, as I am eager to learn and help. I might be a princess, but I don’t shy away from gruesome work such as healing and treating wounds can be.” She shrugged. “It is how I was raised, but I hope no one here finds this behaviour offensive or inappropriate.”

She had been worried that the new queen might take this at least semi-honest remark of wanting her as her tutor for mere exeeding flattery, and so had been waiting for her reaction rather anxiously. Part of it might have been said in jest, but the larger and more prominent part of it was surely true. Morgana, in all her regal confidence and determination was surely to be viewed as a role model, even though her methods seemed a little questionable. But one: who said everything the people whispered behind her back was true and two: what, pray tell was she to do? There were many saying she shouldn’t have dethroned Uther so brutally, but the facts were as they were now. Times were changing, and who could say if Camelot wouldn’t blossom now after this rather rough start?
In any way, Morgana didn’t seem offended, and so Yassia had all the more reason to confirm her request.
“The honor and pleasure would be all mine… Queen Morgana.”

There it was again, the slight flutter of unease in her stomach. This name just… rubbed wrong. It implied so much, not only that Uther had been dethroned, but also that Arthur had simply been overruled, wherever he was, that a completely new order had been established. Yassia still couldn’t bring herself to believe that Arthur, a man she had known for more than just from afar, was actually dead. It was simply unthinkable. She simply couldn’t lose another man that had – even if only slightly – acted as some kind of subsititute for a brotherly figure in her eyes. First she had lost her real brother, Ramon, then Mircea, her stepbrother. Would Arthur now be the next in line? And why was it she apparently was meant to lose those she cared for?

And yet, she had addressed Morgana with this title, as she had more felt than actually acknowledged the reprimand in the other woman’s voice. This was a matter of status. That she had consented to spend more time with Yassia didn’t mean she would think them equals. In fact, while asking for tutelage Yassia had drawn that line herself to her disfavor. She shouldn’t forget for a second that Morgana was the one in charge here!
“I should hope for that too”, she said though, bowing her head respectfully. After all, what was the saying: “Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer”. And as long as she hadn’t fully worked out to which category Morgana would belong to, she would do very well in keeping eyes and ears alert.

For now, Yassia only watched the scouts’ reaction, leaving the talking entirely to Morgana until she had made the necessary introductions.
There were two other men in the same room as far as Yassia could make out yet, younger than Ollien who hastily jumped to their feet only to bow as well after a distinctive glare from the older man. One of them, the youngest had a particularly uneasy shifting and an almost guilty expression on his face, which made Yassia wonder what or rather who they’d been talking about when so suddenly interrupted. And apparently he thought offense to be the best defense, because he eagerly asked. “How may we serve our Queen?”

There was no way Yassia probably would ever be able to fathom the true extent of Leon’s feelings and thoughts. She had never been in such a situation. Maybe she had felt like that a little on that 13th birthday, when her mother had first told her about her whole backstory. She had felt deprived and irritated that her mother only now thought her worthy to bear the truth, but conversely that had meant she now could feel proud of being thought a grown up girl. After the let down had followed a certain feeling of adventure and excitement. She had had no personal relationship to this uncle far away so she only could feel a vague discomfort at the pain her must suffer not knowing anything about his sister. Far closer to her heart had been the fate of her own mother, the pains and adventures of her own journey and the happy ending it all had found with Diodore saving the lady in distress and making her his wife. For little Yassia, the story had been ended with this fact, the past was the past, it’s distance also symbolized in the territorial distance. Albion was far and Yassia had never dreamt she would ever need to see its shores. That had changed the more Yassia had grown up, but just like she had mentioned to Leon, Rhiannon had shied away from contacting her brother.

“I know, uncle Leon”, she sighed. “It was not right, but we cannot turn back the time. And I also know how bold it is of me to come and demand something when you never have been given anything in return.” She added, slighrly bowing her head, expressing the unease she felt. Perhaps t had been too bold. Leon had every right to turn her down!

It must be very hard for Leon to learn the news of Rhiannon’s ultimative passing. Surely he had hoped for even just few seconds that he might see her again, finally find out her story, or simply just talk with the dear sister he had missed for so long, Her daughter, his niece, must surely appear a weak substitute in comparison. And wasn’t it peculiar that her presence still seemed to linger here, just because Rhiannon Griffiths was being spoken of this very minute. Six years melted into nothing, a day perhaps or even an hour and for Yassia it was like she could suddenly see her mother’s face hovering above them, smiling down and speaking words the princess couldn’t understand. At her side was Ramon, grinning his usual daredevil smirk. This was how Yassia would always remember them. Not the bloody, gashed corpses she had stolen a glimpse at and then had been dragged away…
“It… was a hard time…” she admitted, struggling to keep her voice level and not quivering. “I still miss them so much and of course I can’t help but think that with Ramon still alive my life would be so very easier.”

She saw the tear in Leon’s eyes and it made her heart melt and almost break for him. In her experience it took much to make a man really cry and it was also not easy for them to show this kind of feelings. So Yassia was by no means surprised he tried to hide it as quickly as possible. No one should see this, and she also wouldn’t mention it to not deepen the discomfort.
Salvation… it seemed to suddenly fill the air with its exuberant joy and relief and when Leon spoke these few words: “I will help you” Yassia felt the ground waver under her feet, simply overwhelmed by the relief now finally crashing down on her. She had won nothing yet, but at least now she had her first ally. If Leon said he would talk to the king then a very important first step was made. Every client needed an advocate, especially in such high regions as Yassia was faring with.
“Uncle… I don’t know what to say…” her voice was but a breathy sound and she hesitantly reached for his hand, to steady herself and to confirm this was all real. “Yes… that all sounds so wonderful and I can barely believe it. Your estate you say… is that where… Maman grew up?” It was an odd feeling, to think she would delve into her mother’s past, walk the ways she walked when she had been a child…

“But, if you’re busy here, with the training or such, don’t mind me.” She glanced over at the waiting knights, feeling guilty for keeping their trainer from them for so long. “I don’t feel too tired, I could stay here and watch – if I’m allowed to of course.”

Yassia had found she couldn’t sleep. She just couldn’t lay down and rest her head yet, when INSIDE this very head her thoughts were tumbling and turning, racing each other to no end. Shouldn’t she feel at peace now that her journey had finally come to a close, left the danger and the discomfort behind? This is where she belonged for the time being: a princess in a castle, finally reunited with her uncle, and she also would soon be able to speak before the king, requesting his help, so she could return home where she REALLY belonged. She had imagined the relief crashing down on her like a whole mountain, that she would fall into a sound sleep as soon as her head had touched the soft pillow, but that hadn’t been the case at all. Instead, her thoughts were repeating some parts of her journey over and over again, letting incidents, people and places pass before her inner eye, some pleasant, some not so.

The time she had spent in Cenred’s kingdom now seemed like a distant nightmare, but also still with that chilling feeling of reality that nightmares often were accompanied by. Maybe it was the dim lit hallways and floors she was roaming, but she almost imagined to still smell the dampness coming from the stone walls, sneaking under her garments like searching, slippery fingers… enough! No, she should finally put those memories behind! There were far more exciting and happy things to remember, short times of feeling herself in good company, linked with names and faces she would always hold dear. Romily for one…yes, this name would always come to her mind first. The barmaid of the Ram’s Head who had turned out to be so much more than she posed as. A noble, for one, but more so, a friend. A soul mate even if you could go that far. When she returned to Ailantha, in whatever company she would be travelling, Yassia would make sure to make a stop at that tavern to see her friend for one last time. And maybe, considering how long this plea for help might take, it could even be arranged for Romily to come to Camelot…?

Then there had been Gwaine. The ever audacious, fun-loving and far too … immodest Gwaine. Half of the time they had spent together had been spent arguing over some thing or the other. Mostly it had been concerning his free ways of showing affection towards women. But what was the saying? A friend in need is a friend indeed, and Gwaine had proven to be such a friend.
And finally, only recently it seemed, a short but dangerous and memorable incident in another tavern, where her healing skills had been put to good use. She had saved the life of a young man, Merlin, who had been hit by a crossbow bolt. Then she had fought more or less side by side with his friend Arthur to ward off bandits following them into said tavern. Yassia couldn’t help but wonder where those two where off to now, and if they had gotten himself into even more trouble--

Yassia blinked. Maybe she should go to bed after all?! Hadn’t that man’s face who had just passed her by bore the striking resemblance to the very same Arthur she had been thinking of? But that was impossible, ri- -
That was when she heard her name being called. In an incredulous but nevertheless very familiar sounding voice. Turning so sharply on her heels the hem of her silver gown was swishing around her feet, she stared at the man before her. A figment of her imagination most likely, but a darned real one for that! “Arthur?!” Her voice mirrored his in surprise. “What on earth are you doing here?!”

King Uther was not taking up her comment about Mircea, nor did he react in any visible way to it. Part of Yassia was very glad for that fact, it made her able to regain her composure. Nothing was worse for her self-discipline than actually being called up on something. If someone asked her if she was sad or what was wrong, it was so much harder to hold back tears than if her struggle was overlooked or ignored.
Nothing could bring the young princess closer to tears than thoughts of her stepbrother, who she thought she had lost for her own selfish gain. Back then, on those first hours on the shore of Albion, Yassia had been on the verge of returning. It all had seemed to fruitless and impossible at that moment. Mircea had been more than guide and guardian, he had been her company, her safe haven, to whom she could come to with all her doubts. And there had been many of these doubts, and they were still there, even now she had reached her destination.

The documents seemed to satisfy him as he also didn’t seem to need to comment on their validity. Another step succesfully taken and Yassia heaved a little sigh of relief. Not that she had had any doubt about the correctness of her birth certificate, but still, she had learned the hard way in her long journey that anything could go wrong if fate decided to give you a hard enough time.
Now, the next step had to be taken, her actual plea for concrete help, and once again she had to weigh her every word carefully. That wasn’t one of her best traits due to her temper and so she got nervous again, moving her tongue over her lips repeatedly and swallowing.
“Yes I have heard of these events and I am sorry for your loss and hope you will find your ward again in good health!” she commented, then prepared for the second part of her speech. The formerly prepared words suddenly didn’t sound so appropriate anymore. She might have to improvise.

“You could say… military help to SOME extent”, she began and hastily added to not cause any misconceptions, “which doesn’t mean an army of course, no, I would never be so bold as to ask that. What I’m asking for his maybe a band of… ten to fifteen good men that show support to my claim more symbolically than actually in case of combat. You know what I am getting at?” This was by no means an impolite question, negating his common sense. It was just that Yassia knew enough about different cultures by now to know just how much they could differ in everything. It could well be that what was called Guàrdia de Confiança, Guard of Trust, in Yassia’s homeland was a concept unknown here.

Alright, that was a good start at least. King Uther’s voice sounded regal, but not unfriendly and Yassia felt encouraged to look up and after a few seconds raised herself gracefully into a standing position again. She was no peasant who might have to stay kneeling all the time, she could do with the basic rules of courtesy. And he encouraged her to bring forward her claim. For a long, sickening second, Yassia’s mind went blank and she found nothing to say, now that the moment had come. But that was only the nerves! The words were all there, she just had to force her nerves back! Taking a long and deep calming breath, the princess squared her shoulders and opened her mouth, tapping into the long-practised sentences stored away in her mind.

“So am I, King Uther. Truly I am glad to finally reach my destination. Under normal circumstances you would be greeted by two people now, as my stepbrother Mircea was my travelling companion for the most part of this journey. Alas, we got shipwrecked while crossing the sea that divides Albion from the continent and when I was washed ashore… he was not there anymore.” For the last part of her sentence her voice had started to quiver, like it happened everytime she thought about Mircea, let alone spoke of him.
“But enough of that… Yes, I have made this troublesome journey to ask for a favor and I wouldn’t have come had the need not be dire. I am not sure what you already know so I better start at the beginning. Some time ago, my father died, leaving me as the only heir to the throne, as my stepbrother never had any claims and never wanted them. Alas, the law of my land, Ailantha, only allows me to succeed my father on the throne when I am married. That wouldn’t pose a problem, had I not been cursed with a power-hungry uncle, my father’s brother Guifré. He always wanted the crown but as the law forbid him to seize it, he tried a more cunning approach, by forcing the idea on the crown council I was to marry his son, Gonçal. Unfortunately, the wise people of Ailantha failed to see his true intentions behind it, that he wanted to seize power through his son. I could not let this happen, so I had no choice but to flee and seek help elsewhere.” Yassia stopped and took another deep breath, now extending her hand holding the scroll of parchment.

“This is to prove that my words are true, that I am in fact rightful heir to the throne of Ailantha.”
Trembling inside, Yassia waited for Uther to take it. There was no doubt of her rightful heritage, but still, her work was only half done. She yet had to sound the actual plea of assistance, and she was by no means sure how he would take it.