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Words, words… flattering words. Yassia was quite used to them and had learned to drown them out for the most part, but somehow she couldn’t do it as easily when the words came from Oliver. There she never could quite help but wish there was more to his words than courteous flattery, something he would say to every woman he met and didn’t find entirely hideous. But then again, words were so much better than awkward silence, and so whatever he said, Yassia knew she should be grateful for Oliver’s ability to handle the situation, and not leave him hanging. She had to answer something in return, but there was no reason why she should agree to him when she firmly disagreed. Even though she had seen her reflection in the mirror just a few moments ago, she was by no means convinced she looked ‘radiant’ or anything like that. She had been genuine in her concern for making the right appearance, and she would have liked honesty in return. Oh well, that could not be helped now, she would just try to argue her case further.

“Please, Oliver, we both know that is not true!” she protested with a little laugh, tempted to smack the arm he had placed her hand on, but refraining from it. Here someone could see them and draw conclusions that might endanger the agreement they had come to: No one could know they had previous knowledge of each other, and Yassia was pretty sure no one knew about their few chance meetings over the following days either. To the public eye, they should not be so much acquainted as to exchange jibes and call each other by first name. She had only done it after stepping away from the closed door and from Talia, as she didn’t want gossip that would too painfully point into the right direction. “Besides, I have never seen a woman who holds herself with such regal grace as your mother. There’s no one who can hold a candle to HER, I am sure.” That was nothing but Yassia’s honest opinion, her adoration for Lady Adelaide had only grown which each day of either just seeing her or actually speaking to her. In a way, she reminded Yassia so much of her own mother that it often hurt, but there was more to this than just a faint reminiscence and the affection felt for the Queen of Mercia was by no means only founded on that.

Yassia was not quite sure, if she should feel encouraged or warned by Oliver’s words. He provided her with a good reason for this private dinner after all, if Edmund had an idea he wanted to discuss with her alone first, but then once again she couldn’t quite shake off the dark sense of foreboding that seemed to take over her again. If this was an idea to help her, then why wasn’t Oliver pleased? He seemed genuinely opposed to the idea, albeit too polite to voice it, at least that was the message Yassia was getting, and she didn’t like it one bit. “And this idea doesn’t take your fancy?” she prompted softly, even though she knew it might be wrong to press the matter. This most likely was a matter between Oliver and his brother, some sibling rivalry perhaps, and she didn’t want to get in between that. It was none of her business. If Edmund had an idea, there was no saying Yassia HAD to accept it, right? If she didn’t like it, just like Oliver, she would politely decline and otherwise enjoy the evening. Yes, that was a good plan. Suddenly, the feeling of foreboding vanished. She had been panicking in vain again.

The thought of war was a nasty one indeed, and for a moment Yassia fretted, afraid she might have killed the mood of the day already, with her quick and thoughtless remark. These were her problems after all, nothing Caitrin would need to be concerned about – unless of course members of her large family would be sent back with Yassia. Then it would of course be her concern, even though Yassia could only guess how close Caitrin still felt to any of them. Blood might always be thicker than water, especially in times of war, however, and Yassia would hate to cause Caitrin any discomfort with her decisions and demands. But then, if she wasn’t ready to cause anyone discomfort, she could stay here and abandon all hope of gaining her birthright. Sometimes, big things had to come with an even bigger price.
Caitrin might not think her morale support might be of any value, but there Yassia strongly begged to differ. Completely taken by surprise by this frank show of support and affection, Yassia felt a soft blush coloring her cheeks and she bit her lips, momentarily fighting for composure. How on earth did she really deserve such a friend as Caitrin? When she thought she could trust her voice again, she said: “And you should know that that means more to me than an army of thousand men, Caitrin! Never doubt that for a second… thank you.” It sounded bleak to her own ears, but there were simply no words to express her immense gratitude.

Yassia couldn’t really imagine how it must feel to be cut off by your own father – and maybe even feeling glad about it. How destroyed or non-existant a relationship had to be, if you considered that the better option than continuing an endless struggle – at least that was the impression Yassia thought to get out of Caitrin’s behavior even though she didn’t exactly voice it. It was only a relief that no matter how her father would react, there was no changing Caitrin’s future for the worse now. Griff and her had made up after their fight, they were happily engaged and soon to be married, they would start a new life in Camelot and soon have a loving family of rheir own. Caitrin’s father only seemed to be a minor blemish in the picture, something that could be overlooked as soon as it was out of mind again.
“Maybe that would be for the best… however harsh that sounds”, she stated softly, cocking her head at Caitrin. “Then you could get him out of your mind. Or would his approval mean that much to you?”

The princess gave a breathy laugh and momentarily tensed in the saddle, as her horse leapt over a small log, then as she straightened up again, she flashed a slightly weary grin at her best friend. First she said they would be fine, and then she practically presented Yassia to them on a silver platter?! How was that fair, please?!
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?!” she joked. “If you want to play matchmaker today, forget it, dear! I still have my throwing knives and I will give any pursuer a good chase! And anyway… do you think they’d really CARE if you’re engaged or not?” Well that of course depended on who the men were, hunting in the forest, if – of course – any at all. There was no saying there would be any, so why fret about uncrossed bridges?
Yassia firmly told herself to stop worry and just savour the day as it was. It was long since she last had felt so much leisure at her command, spending the first half of the day riding out and not caring for more than a few minutes ahead.
“As far as we can I’d say!” she called back and pulled her horse a few inches ahead. “But maybe we should stay a little quieter from now on. After all, we don’t want to scare away possible game… or hunters.”

Caitrin’s support in that matter was deeply reassuring for Yassia, and she flashed her friend a thankful smile. After all, if anyone would be able to measure how Mercia would react, out of these two at least, it would be the redhaired Mercian, having grown up here and knowing the people who would be responsible deciding over Yassia’s fate after all. There was no guarantee of course, there never was, but Caitrin’s sureness was a step into the right direction and left Yassia with at least a little less anxiety. Time would tell, she guessed, and up until this moment there was nothing she could do but wait, try to not worry too much and at the same time try to keep from mortally wounding (in the figurative sense of course) any of the persons that could be important for the decision to be made. That would be alright with Edmund, since he seemed to like her and also liked to spend time with her, but if Edmund was right, she’d need Oliver’s support more than anything, since his ‘golden tongue’ might be the deciding factor in swaying the council. Just great…
“It would be wonderful, if they did!” she agreed, but then a wistful smile crossed Yassia’s face. “But I fervently hope that the threat of a skilled band of soldiers in my back will be enough to convince my uncle he has lost. I don’t want to start a war.”

To be honest, Yassia hadn’t really believed that Caitrin would be running, it didn’t seem to be in the young woman’s nature, and Yassia had always admired her for her ability to stand her ground. This was just another example. Yassia had suggested it more to show her support than anything, but now she realized that a confrontation between Lord Payton and his daughter might be as much a tremendous affair as it might be necessary. For the father, Caitrin might still be the same girl that had moved to Camelot and rather went out of the way than staying in his vicinity, but Yassia needn’t be told that Caitrin probably would have changed and matured in that time away from her dominant father. And he would need to see that, to realize he no longer had a hold on her. Maybe Lord Payton would be as surprised to see his daughter changed as Guifré the usurper might be to see Yassia had not run to pave him the way but to fight back. For Caitrin’s sake, Yassia wasn’t sure what to hope for best: That there would be a confrontation, or that there would be none.
“Right on!” she cheered however and winked at Caitrin. “I’m sure he will be surprised to see how firm you are in this subject, and he will have no choice but to accept. You’ve outgrown him.”

Even though the story had not been mentioned for years, Yassia immediately recalled how they had been lying in the garden of Caitrin’s estate, stargazing and telling each other stories. One of these stories had been a custom Yassia had found to be irritating at best: where Mercian knights chased women through the forest as some kind of sport. Some of them, Caitrin had told her, had not wanted to be chased, and even though Yassia had been practically growing up in an Ivory Tower, she had seen enough of the world meanwhile to know what that could possibly mean. Back then, it had not meant much to her, since she never would have really thought to find herself in Mercia one day – and that with such unexpected ‘ties’ to it as well. Now she couldn’t help but wonder if Oliver had ever participated in such games. Well, knowing how he was and judging by the odd comments she had been heard dropping, she didn’t doubt he had. He might have even been at the forfront of it all.
“Surely I remember!” she said and suddenly eyed the forest a little more warily. "And that makes me wonder if we two really should head there!” But nevertheless she spurred her horse on and followed Caitrin, not wanting to be a spoilsport

There was no doubt both Ailantha and Mercia would manage just fine, if being kept forever apart, Yassia thought with a slighly wistful grin. And who knew, maybe if Yassia managed to get Mercia’s military help in winning back her kingdom, there would be a lasting alliance forming. Alliances usually were made with adjoining kingdoms, since only that was really profitable, but then times were changing and you never knew when even an alliance with a kingdom across the channel would come in hany. All Yassia knew was that she would be deeply indebted to King Bayard and she hoped he would not exploit that in ways she’d rather not have. There was nothing concrete springing to her mind right now of course, but just like with alliances, you never knew when it came to debts. They could bite you in the backside before you knew it. “I’m glad to hear that, after all, I might still be needing Mercia’s help, and would hate to see another hope floating down the drain”, she commented, only half joking. There was still Camelot and Arthur of course, but Yassia had been in Camelot now long enough to know that this kingdom might just never settle down enough to think about sending military forces a few hundred miles south. So, right now, the generous offer by Edmund and the council meeting in a few days was her best shot.

A difficult childhood… that was very vague indeed, but Yassia knew better than to pry. Caitrin would reveal her as much as she would want to reveal, and Yassia had no right to know more. That would be trying to betray her best friend’s trust. She herself had had a wonderful childhood in comparison, with parents that went to their greatest efforts to show how much she was loved. Up until her fourteenth birthday, Yassia had been the perfect little princess, and she treasured that time. Even after turning harder and colder, King Diodore had still never let his remaining child suffer for a horrid twist of fate, and their relationship had always been amiable, companionable. The only thing she could compare Caitrin’s childhood to was when she thought about her cousin. He had surely suffered in his own way under his dominant and sometimes even vile father, her uncle Guifré. That wasn’t any excuse for what he had done and maybe would continue to do, since Caitrin’s example clearly showed that you could have a heart of gold even with an unloving childhood.
“Thanks for the warning” she said with a tentative smile, then reached over to touch Caitrin’s arm. “Lord Payton… how about you pay a little servant boy to hide around the castle gate all day so he sees whenever your father arrives. Then he’ll run to us and while I’m trying to hold him off long enough, you and Griff escape into the woods, so I can safely say you’re not around and SO sorry to not be able to meet him?”

Yassia didn’t quite understand what Caitrin might be meaning with Oliver ‘getting his head around something’, but there really was no use in mulling over this topic any longer. Either things would work out between them somehow, or they would not and she would just have to try and start to forget him for good. If Oliver was changeable, then maybe he was just a little TOO changeable in Yassia’s eyes. If his love for her had not been anything but a flash in the pan, who was she to hope for more? Who was she to abase herself in craving for his attention? She really had other things to think and worry about!
“Well, at least the archery lesson that followed after our impromptu picnic was fun”, she said a little dismissively and spurred her horse into a trot, looking up ahead towards the forest. “You’re the location expert, my dear, where shall we go? Keep outside of the forest or go within?”

To be honest, Yassia knew it was not the worst life she was leading now. It could have come a lot worse for her than helping out in her uncle’s business. Running a boarding school was not the same as running a hotel, but over the last few months, the task had grown on her, and also the students had. There were 150 students here, all of them boarding and staying here throughout the year, apart from the few holidays of course, and boys and girls alike. Those were the some of the highest up in England’s society, sons and daughters of millionaires and the occasional member of nobility – or even royalty. Which brought her back to a minor problem that had been haunting her for weeks now. Ever since she had heard from her uncle that the school was preparing for the visit of one of its ‘sons’, none other than the Duke of *****, she had been feeling like in a bad joke. That was just her luck, right? He came to celebrate the opening of his generous donation, a hall that would be an ordinary gym in summer, but could be transformed into an ice rink as soon as the temperature outside was cold enough to justify a not too great amount of energy used to temperating the hall. It was close to the Christmas holidays and since the weather was promising for such an affair, the ice rink would be inaugurated by the students and everyone of the staff who wanted. The whole school was abuzz with excitement, and even though Yassia felt more anxious herself, she couldn’t keep from smiling when she saw the gleaming faces of the students, practically bouncing in anticipation, dropping by to talk to her.

Momentarily, Yassia even fervently wished for someone to come and keep her thoughts from wandering into one particular direction: The reason why she had mixed feelings about the young Duke’s imminent arrival. Normally, it should have been nothing to her, just another celebrity’s face that may bring cameras and attention with him, from which she, if possible, had to hide and keep her head low. But maybe, just maybe there was something more to this. Yassia still couldn’t quite shake off the inkling that the same man who would arrive here with his entourage at any moment, could be the same person that had run her over with his car, brought her to hospital and then disappeared. She could not be sure, as all she remembered of that incident was a short flicker of a handsome face framed by golden locks before she passed out, and then, several times, a voice. A few weeks before, she had seen a slightly tell-taling bulletin in one of those tabloid shows on TV, and for a moment she had been struck with the though of her savior being that very same young man… but then, it could not be possible, right? It would explain his sudden disappearance, since they had shown the Duke on a journey to the continent where he should have done some beneficial sponsor work, but had rather been spotted in nightclubs and in company of skimpily cladded girls. Which was why Yassia wasn’t be sure if she even WANTED him to be that very same man. Oh well… until she heard his voice and saw his face other than on a blurred picture, she could not be sure anyway.

Then suddenly she was pulled from her thoughts by a buzz of excitement that seemed to just turn louder and louder, and when Yassia stood up and looked out of the window overlooking the courtyard, the large double-winged gate and a bit of the sloped street beyond, she saw the royal entourage sneaking its way towards the Boarding School. They were here already!
In the same minute, she heard a low growl, followed by a curse from the adjoining room, where her uncle’s office was located. “Damn, I’m not ready yet!! I can’t seem to find my tie! And where are my black shoes?!” Yassia suppressed a smile at her grumpy and, as usual, disorganized uncle, and called back: “Shall I help you search?”
”NO!” came the immediate, sharp answer. “Someone needs to greet our high guest! And I better have it be you than this fool Bricks! Go, hurry!”
Yassia was about to protest, but then there wasn’t any objective reason that was any good why she shouldn’t go down and greet the Duke in her uncle’s name. Normally, that would have been the task of Timothy Bricker, deputy rector of the school, but while he could deal well with students, he was an absolute nightmare for social happenings such as this. It had brought him the nickname ‘Bricks’, not just by the students but seemingly by everyone, because he dropped so many.

Biting back an exasperate sigh, Yassia hurried down the several flight of stairs into the courtyard, making her way to the front of the row of students, just in time for the first car of the entourage to pull through the gate. Hiding her trembling hands behind her back, Yassia took a deep, calming breath. She had dealt with high society before, all her life to be precise, she could do this! And maybe she was wrong. She would most likely be wrong; it would not be him!


Tag: Oliver
Timeline: Modern Times, December
Time of Day: Early afternoon

While Talia was applying the finishing touch to Yassia’s appearance, the young princess found her mind wandering again. This dark feeling of foreboding wouldn’t quite vanish, as much as she tried to shake it off. She didn’t even know what was causing it, maybe it was all those little snippets that had accumulated over the past few days now forcefully wanting to form one certain picture, but Yassia couldn’t quite make out its form yet. Maybe it was also the helplessness in general that got to her, the feeling of being nothing like a puppet on a string, not able to do anything about it as she was led into a dance to amuse the stars. She hadn’t felt so much at someone else’s mercy ever since she had taken her fate into her own hands, leaving Ailantha behind. Maybe that was what she was missing, this feeling of control over her actions that had been slipping through her fingers ever so slightly ever since meeting Oliver again? Yes, even though she hated to admit it, it was again Oliver triggering this feeling of anxiety, as he was more than just a man she thought to once have loved and maybe still did. He was a symbol for the scheme the stars seemed to have worked out for her. Now she had met him again and spent so much time with him, she knew their first meeting had indeed been designed by the stars and had not by any means been a product of coincidence. But with every day that passed Yassia got more and more confused as to what else this scheme might entail. In the first moments of seeing him again, she had thought it a blessing, a sign that maybe she wouldn’t stay unhappy forever, but they both had worked neatly to undo that possibility. Now they had barred the way for a happy outcome, even though just his friendship was more than she could have ever asked for, and she knew she should be thankful for it. But what a fool she herself had been, wishing on a star to ‘meet him again, whatever the circumstances’. She should have known better that such wishes always came with a heavy price and were often enough taken literally. Now look at the circumstances they had created…

Again it was Talia’s voice pulling her from her rather gloomy thoughts, and what she said was enough to make Yassia’s eyebrows dart up in genuine surprise.
“You know… no offense your Highness, but I think this outfit and jewelry would look much better with a smile.” There it was again, the typical Albion and especially Mercian frankness. In Ailantha, no servant that wasn’t on extremely good terms with her mistress would have dared to voice such a comment unbidden, but for Yassia it was just the thing she needed right now. It reminded her again that she needed to put her act together. So, instead of monishing her handmaid for her bluntness, she gave an almost rueful smile and nodded at her face in the mirror.

“Of course, you are right, Talia. Forgive me my absent mind. I was thinking of my homeland.” It was not exactly a lie after all, since her thoughts HAD been directed to Ailantha and her choice of leaving there. Talia seemed encouraged by the lack of reprimand and looked up from Yassia’s hair, cocking her head.
“I’ve never been away from home, so I can’t really imagine how that must feel like. Do you miss your family?” That innocent remark was enough to make Yassia laugh, but the laugh had a bitter edge to it. The only family she had left, she did definitely NOT miss, as they were the cause of all her troubles, and the ones she missed most she could never see again until she, too, had found her place amongst the stars. Talia, a little taken aback by the laugh, stayed silent, but this time it was Yassia feeling the need to break said silence.
“I do miss my people”, she said softly. “I sadly have no family left worth missing. And I miss the landscape, the customs, everything I grew up to. It is hard to get settled somewhere so different in some aspects.” She had never been so frank with a servant before, but oddly enough, Yassia found it to be quite refreshing. She sensed honest interest behind Talia’s remarks, no ill will.

With a tentative smile, the handmaid stood back and inclined her head. “I am done, your Highness, and if I may say so, you look beautiful. I would keep my fiancé away from you!”
Before Yassia could counter that compliment with a remark of her own, maybe congratulating Talia on her betrothed state, there was a knock on the door, and Talia went to open the door. Yassia, momentarily occupied with standing up and adjusting her gown, didn’t turn her head at once, but then she heard Talia’s slightly surprised exclamation: “Your Royal Highness!” and the rushing of fabric as the handmaiden swept low into a curtsy. Yassia’s head darted around in surprise. Had Edmund come to fetch her himself? But then her eyes settled on an all too familiar face and her heart missed a beat. Oliver…! She had not been prepared to see him at all tonight, and somehow knowing he would see her now, all prettied up to dine with his brother, turned this matter from bad to worse. Somehow she couldn’t bear him thinking she had put effort behind looking pretty for Edmund, even though this was far from a rational sensation. Momentarily unable to speak, she just looked at him, praying he would have enough wits about him not to make this encounter even more embarrassing.

„Do you want the pearl hair-net or just a few pearl pins as highlights in your hair, your Highness?“
The soft voice of Talia, the handmaiden she had been given for her stay in Mercia, pulled Yassia from her reverie. For a moment she was tempted to shrug. What did it matter after all? The hair-net of course would look splendid and costly, marking her every inch the princess she was, but Yassia didn’t feel much in the mood to dress up to such an extent. She rather liked her appearance accentuated, not overloaded, and in her eyes this was just a dinner invitation, not some sort of state banquet. But then, there had been this nagging feeling all day, ever since she had been asked to meet Edmund for dinner – alone, without the rest of his family – that there might be something afoot. That had been the cause of her faraway thoughts. She had mulled over it in her mind again and again, becoming more nervous by the hour. She was no stranger to courtly arrangements of course, and a private dinner between a foreign princess and the heir of the Mercian throne meant something, though she shied away from delving deeper into what it really could mean. Yassia didn’t want to go there, not in a thousand years, and she could only fervently hope she was overreacting.

But was she? If this was only a meaningless dinner invitation, then why was her handmaiden so lively and excited tonight, fussing more over her than she had ever before since being assigned this task? Was there something in the air everyone seemed to know about or at least guess, only she was too blind to see it? Sweet stars, please no! If she was right with anything on that way her thoughts were taking, this evening would become the touchstone of her whole life. But no, surely she was overreacting. She had made it clear after all what she wanted, yes? She needed to return to Ailantha, to drive out her uncle and become Queen. Edmund probably only wanted to speak to her in private, so they could work out a tactic for the council meeting tomorrow. Yes, that must be it!
Finally, Yassia realized she was owing her maid an answer for quite some time now, and without much thinking over it, she decided: “The pins will do, Talia, thank you!”

Through the dim surface of the looking glass, Yassia could make out Talia’s slightly crestfallen expression, but she knew better than to protest. It was not like the maid was living in fear from Yassia, but she still looked at her with some kind of awe, since she was coming from a land so far away. Yassia was glad she wasn’t one of the babbling sort, as she had become rather thoughtful herself these days and needed a little quiet space around herself. There was just too much to think over, and sooner or later she had to mentally slap herself away from one particular person: Oliver. He had that way of sneaking into her thoughts at the most unbidden time, and the last few days had provided her with really much to think or daydream about. They had kissed, he had taught her how to shoot a bow, with their bodies so close together that it was surely scandalous and both his hands on hers as he guided the shot… he had chased her through the forest just the other day… and yet it all meant nothing, not to him anyway! And she had to learn to accept that! If everything went well, she would leave Mercia soon, with the support of a small army and return home. It was what she always had wanted, right? She should be excited and happy. But somehow, she was not…

Energetically, Yassia forced her mind back on the present and finally took a look at herself in the mirror. There she was, wearing a flowing gown of two shades of green, accentuated only around her slim waist with a girdle of dark blue, embroidered with gold. She had refused a more splendid gown for the same reason as she had refused the hair-net, but then she always had liked it simple. When she moved her head, the pearls were capturing the candlelight quite nicely, even though Talia was not even done.
“It looks wonderful already”, she complimented her maid and was pleased to see the girl blush. At least someone she could make happy tonight… though where that sudden thought had come from, Yassia couldn’t tell.

Well, in the end it probably didn’t matter what feast it had been Yassia had seen these two dancing together, she remembered the fact and that was enough. She herself loved dancing almost as much as Caitrin, and it was a good thing Camelot had no shortage of young nobleman equally eager to not let a princess stay a wallflower for too long. But she had never felt like Caitrin visibly felt with Griff with one of them, they had never been dancing like one person only. Maybe it was her own fault, because she didn’t allow herself to let go completely? But ever since the coronation of Arthur Pendragon a few days ago, Yassia did have a dance to compare all her previous dances with. After the anger and annoyance of that evening had worn off, she caught her thoughts again and again straying towards that particular moment, analyzing it or just plainly dreaming about it, wishing things had been different. For even though the athmosphere of that dance had been anything but amiable, more resembling a duel, she HAD felt as one with him in those short moments in hindsight. And she couldn’t help but wish to dance with him again.
“It was visible!” she complimented her friend with an honest smile. “I can’t wait to watch you two at it again.” Maybe Oliver would ask her to dance that night as well, purely out of friendship and courtesy of course, but still… a girl could dream, right? Even though she was foolish to waste so many thoughts on him.

And now Caitrin wanted her to join in the Soléa? From her point of view and the way she said it, the suggestion made perfect sense, but Yassia still didn’t like the thought. She didn’t like it, because the foolish part of her DID like it and her thoughts already started to race. She couldn’t allow herself to go down this road, as it would lead nowhere and she didn’t have time for dead ends. So why couldn’t she just let things be? Why was some part of her still clinging to a past that had no future? She did deserve better, didn’t she?! Better than someone like him who only wanted the game any day! But Yassia also knew that she would have to work on convincing herself of that for quite a while to come. “Of course, then I will have to I guess”, she consented with a sigh, but couldn’t quite deny herself a little dig at Caitrin. “After all, I would hate to see your precious reputation destroyed by just one dance.” It was just Yassia’s nature that she would probably never quite understand Caitrin’s way of living, her carefree ways and the countless affairs she had had before Griff, but that didn’t diminish the deep affection she held for her friend. They were so alike in many things and yet as different as night and day in others. It was a good combination, she guessed.

This deep affection also enabled her now to go through with what was probably the most embarrassing moment they had ever had in the long history of their friendship. Having a good friend as a patient was never wise, and Yassia now was given the second example in just a few days as to why that should be the case. When Oliver had nearly been killed by his own brother, her panic and fear for him had nearly clouded her senses, and now she would have to invade deeply into Caitrin’s private space, something she had never wanted to if she could help it. But maybe the more professional she herself acted about this, the less uncomfortable it would make Caitrin, and that was the main thing here. You hardly could feel anything through a belly that had its muscles tensed up. Taking a deep breath, Yassia approached the table and pushed Caitrin’s gown upward.
“Be warned, my hands might be cold!” she commented softly, then put them both on Caitrin’s lower abdomen, applying soft pressure. “Breathe slowly, deeply and steadily.” To get a better sense of touch, she even closed her eyes, then deepened the pressure to esteme the position of organs. “Protest if it hurts.” That was not only said to make Caitrin feel more comfortable. Even though the miscarriage had been happening some time ago, the scar tissue of a rupture inside would still hurt.

“Marriage is not for everyone, though for some it is a necessity.”
Of course Lord Rouland was right about that, though Yassia herself would have probably said it with a little more tact. Then again, when had he ever shown tact in this conversation before? He said things as he meant them, probably never sparing anyone, and just like with her uncle Kaye that would not get him many friends. Though Kaye did it because of his profound bitterness concerning life; she had no idea why Rouland would do it. Perhaps just because he could, though that would make him rude on top of tactless, and Yassia was not sure whether she really wanted to go down that road just yet. After all, she had just met Lord Rouland and didn’t want to prejudge him by just a few phrases he had said. What irked her though was that withour even knowing it, Caitrin’s uncle had touched a sore spot within Yassia. For her, marriage would be the utmost necissity, if her preferred plan failed and she could not convince her people to let go of that ridiculous law saying she could only rule when married. She would have to find someone, and find him quickly, regardless of her feelings.
So her answer was a little stiff, when she replied: “That may be so, yes. Not many are so lucky as to marry for love.”

Yassia did not want to question Lord Rouland’s expertise on judging people, even less since he probably knew Griff better than she did any day – they had never really met in such a way that she could hazard a guess on his character – but then she never particularly liked people who thought their opinion was the be-all and end-all. However, this time Yassia would not mind if he was right, since that meant Caitrin would be happy in the end, with Griff returning to her side and them finally marrying. Yassia remembered all too well how they once had discussed that there was never a life like the cliché story’s told about princesses and ladies, but did it really have to turn out like this? This was probably farthest away from a happy end you could get, and Caitrin deserved so much better!
“Well, then let’s hope your estimation doesn’t fail you, Mylord”, she consented with a sigh, leaning back in her chair. “The stars often have a cruel way of making us value what we want by taking it away, but their lessons pay off in the end.”

Rouland’s reaction and his conclusion however rang completely wrong with Yassia and she raised her brow in surprise and irritation alike as he sounded the request of her not speaking to Caitrin about his resolve rather like a demand. Who did he think he was?! Now he had crossed the line of being rude, and only because she had gotten used to such behaviour from some Camelotians in general and her uncle Kaye in particular she bit back a very sharp reprimand. This was neither the time nor the place for turf wars, but she would not let this stand either! There was a middle way to everything, she just had to find it.
“A moment before you were so sure of your own estimation and now you’re backing down?” she asked, a little incredulous and not quite able to hide the slight contempt in her voice. “And just because you don’t want to meddle! Do you ever think about Caitrin in all of this? How just a little spark of hope could make this so much more bearable for her?! If you are so sure that Griff will return, then why let her suffer? And if you are NOT sure…” she let the sentence hang there between them unfinished, but her eyes showed clearly what she meant: Then why boast about your superior knowledge earlier? Given, this was not quite the middle way she had anticipated, but she would not take it back.