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Was it a slight crack in Morgana’s confidence Yassia was experiencing right now, or shouldn’t she get her hopes up like that? Did she really wish for the people to love her?! Well that had to be the height of twisted opinion Yassia ever came across, and she couldn’t help but stare at Morgana for a moment, unsure if she just had heard her right. It was one thing to fight for the re-use of magic, and for that surely some sacrifices had to be made, but didn’t this woman see that she was going at this the entirely wrong way?
”How can they love you if you don’t show them generosity and concern?” Yassia asked incredulously. “Can’t you see that you’re trying to achieve the impossible with the completely wrong tools? You have just taken Camelot by force, killed so many of their loved ones and then you sit here like a spider in her web and wait for the people to accidently love you? Where should that love come from if you give them nothing to love you for?”

Then however Yassia thought better of Morgana’s sudden change of mind, and whatever breach she might have thought to dig deeper into with her, now it was gone. There was only dread left, and the fight against memories. She had to tell herself over and over again, that nothing would happen this time, that the worst she would encounter down there were rats and mouldering straw, but it was not an entirely succesful try.
”That’s what I meant”, she said, almost pleadingly. “Like this, you will never get anyone to love you. Fear is no subsitute of respect, it’s the opposite. Please Morgana, don’t do this!”
There must be some way to convince Morgana she was rapidly running down the wrong path. Yassia still saw the hope for a different outcome, even though her prospects got darker by the minute. She couldn’t risk to reveal more of her weaknesses, or she really would be putty in this woman’s hands.

Yassia didn’t know much about the things that were going on in Camelot or in Albion altogether, but she knew something very important had changed compared to the time when her mother had still been here. Magic was outlawed now, no longer held in high regards like it was also the case in Ailantha. In Yassia’s kingdom, magic was a very rare gift and those who actully possessed knowledge about it were treated with utmost respect. Upon coming here, Yassia quickly had realized the difference, but sometimes she still found it hard to understand.“Where I come from magic is not shunned”, she shrugged uncomfortably. “So I found it hard adjusting to the hatred everyone seems to have for it here. Your king must have a very good reason to prosecute it like that.” If this whole conversation was about magic right now, anyway. Yassia wasn’t quite sure.

Hunith’s words sounded again very wise, and were not in the least made to offend – at least from where Yassia came from. “You are far more than just a simple woman, I bet”, she commented with a smile. “You claim you don’t know the world like tht, but it seems to me you do. Have no fear of speaking your mind around me, I am but a wanderer and I don’t pledge allegiance to any king around here.”
Maybe she would need to show sympathy for Uther if she wanted his help, but then she would have to gain the help of her uncle first. She could still be glad it was not Cenred she had to appeal to…

As if her thoughts had taken up a creepy life of their own, Yassia suddenly heard a noise in the distance, even through the wooden walls of the little hut. The neighing of a horse… and thundering hooves coming closer. The young woman paled and for a moment her hands cramped around the cup she was holding, then she suddenly jumped up, her eyes darting around like those of a hunted deer.
”I need to go… now!”

Her feet were aching and she was cold. No, scratch that, not only her feet were aching, it was a pain that stretched from her tormented soles up her calves until it almost reached her hips. It was burning and aching at the same time. Yassia had always thought herself in good shape, but after one week of constantly being on her feet she had been thoroughly thought a lesson she most likely was never to forget. She simply was not used to be walking for so long, but there was no way she could help that. The horrifying storm that had hit their boat while crossing the channel had robbed Yassia of three most important things: Her horse, a decent amount of money (one that could help her out right now with getting her a new mount, even a mule would do!) and above all: Mircea!
Yassia had never thought anyone could ever feel so lost in his entire life, and the most part of her misery was due to the fact that her mind slowly had to work around the possibility that her half-brother was dead. Dead or washed ashore somewhere far from where she was, unable to find her.

The very thought of him once again brought tears to her eyes and she hunched her shoulders against the cold wind, glad to have at least her woollen cloak with her. This and her bag full of herbs and done remedies were her most precious belongings now. Nothing was left of Yassia Dyfrène de Ailantha, the proud princess and queen-to-be. She had reached the bottom of the line and she was very well aware of that fact. With that little money she had left in her soaked purse and with such a great amount of way still before her, with no idea where exactly to turn, she was a pauper now and had to call herself lucky if she even reached Camelot unscathed. Before crossing the channel, being followed by her uncle’s goons and taken back by force had been her worst fear. Now that almost seemed like a good way to end it all, in her darkest hours.
Whenever she wanted to give up, she imagined talking to Mircea, as if he was still beside her. She told him of her sorrows and imagined to hear his voice, telling her in his calm and serious tone that she could not give up, that she was strong, that he knew she could make it. But that hurt so much, too, so she never could do it for long.

It was afternoon now and still Yassia dragged herself onward. As far as she could see, no village was near, and she hoped she would at least reach one by nightfall. The little coins she had left would suffice for a bed and some stew and that was all she needed. Interesting how basic your needs could become if you had to learn to survive by them. This, Yassia was sure, would be a lesson she’d never forget – ever assumed she lived to really learn from it.
The low murmuring of a little brooke nearby pulled her a little from her miserable state, and she pushed herself to a faster pace, leaving the road and half-stumbled towards the welcome distraction. Sighing almost comfortably, she pulled off her boots and put her aching feet into the cold water. Sweet stars, what a luxury! Slowly the burning pain died down, and that alone was enough to raise Yassia’s spirit considerably. It even banished Mircea from her mind for now, and without any conscious thought a hushed song found its way on her lips.


”En veure despuntar
el major lluminar
en la nit més ditxosa
els ocellets cantant
a festejarlo van
amb sa veu melindrosa… "

Yassia smiled inwardly as she heard Oliver’s answer. She should have known she would get an expert information now, and there was really nothing wrong with that. She loved the spark that seemed to light up his eyes when he talked about his favourite pastime. Such dedication was truly admireable! He might not be a match for his brother in swordfight, but he was a master with the bow, and frankly, Yassia liked this skill much more, as it mirrored her own. He was right, throwing knives and shooting arrows wasn’t so different after all, even though bow and arrow were far more elegant in Yassia’s eyes. Ramon himself had said once that he was teaching her a skill mostly mastered by thugs, which he had found highly amusing.”Not to mention the serious strength difference between men and women”, Yassia added with a little smile. “I am sure, I couldn’t do what you find relatively easy. One always judges from ones own abilities what seems easy and what seems hard, but I bet you could fight me and hold me down single-handed. I will have to see how much work the bow really does for me. Then again”, Yassia shrugged and held out one hand while the other was busy holding the skewer with her delicious hare, “you’re the expert, and I am most willing to try my luck. Caitrin once told me she’s good with a bow and I’m sure if she can do it, I can do it too, though probably not as gracefully.” Sometimes she almost forgot that Caitrin was Mercian too, as she seemed to be content to live in Camelot. It also brought back a quick flicker of rememberance about Caitrin’s and Oliver’s relationship back in those old days, but the memory was not laden with jealousy anymore. She gladly had moved past that.

Of course Oliver would not be offended by her unladylike behavior and that made it easier to dismiss the incident as well. Her apology had been born out of instinct more than anything, and had not been truly heartfelt. It would have been heartfelt in a different surroundings maybe, at a royal banquet or anything formal like that, but here she was only having a casual and delicious meal with a… with a friend. Out in the open and an absolute unroyal zone. She had done so many ‘unsuitable’ things today already, speaking with her mouth full would hardly unnerve anyone. It shouldn’t even unnerve herself. So she returned his smile with an almost mischievous one of her own and made a dismissive gesture. “You’re right, who should care! We can be the most royal brats we want today!”

He didn’t seem to have noticed her slip, and Yassia found herself relaxing again. Good. No explanation due, nothing that could tear open old wounds. It was better this way,and she vowed to guard her mouth a little closer from now on. Not that it ever would work, but there was no harm in trying and making good resolutions. Oliver’s promise was warming Yassia inside out, and she shot him a dazzling and heartfelt thankful smile. How wonderful that would be! Many more days as perfect as this one, but she probably shouldn’t get her hopes up. Something bad always happened when she did that. Still… the temptation to just let go was overwhelming and she would nothing ruin this wonderful day for her. The previous drama was all but forgotten.
”See, I’m the luckiest girl in the world!” she confirmed lightheartedly.

Oh how sweet he was, truly wanting to know more about her family’s history. She would have to ask him to do the same once she was finished, as she loved good stories at least as much as he did. Snatching another berry in preparation, she then shifted into a more comfortable position and began.
”This must have been one of my favourite stories when I was younger, and it was told every other year on my parent’s wedding anniversary. It has long since become a national legend and has been embellished beyond regognition. But this is how it was told to us, the royal children.” She flashed him a conspiratorial smile. “I am sure for my mother it was far less adventurous than it sounds, but she was born in Camelot, her name was Lady Rhiannon Griffiths, second child to Lord Cynewulf Griffiths, a former knight of the realm. On one day, close to her sixteenth birthday, she was captured by slave traders while collecting herbs and brought on the continent. They wanted to take her far far south, to the kingdom of Aragon, and they had to pass through France through that. Now, my father, young and adventurous Prince Diodore, was on a little journey beyond the borders of Ailantha and he encountered the party of slave traders. Now, guess what happened.” She challenged Oliver.

The topic of shooting bow and arrow compared to throwing a knife intrigued Yassia more than she probably let on, and more than it probably should have. She was not exactly interested in fighting arts, and taking up a sword had never been on her wishlist. It simply wasn’t befitting for a princess to use arms at all, and even if that hadn’t been a deciding factor, wielding a sword held no appeal for Yassia whatsoever. Her brother had taught her how to throw daggers simply because he thought it could be a skill proving useful one day, to give her a sure hand and a good eye. It had been their little secret, as both her mother and father didn’t know anything about it until they died. After Ramon’s death she had continued with the practice simply for his sake, to honor his legacy and become good for him. They hadn’t been that close except for those moments out in the forest, which had been seldom enough with his many duties as Crown Prince. Still, over the years the sport had grown on her, it had become part of who she was, and on her journey towards Camelot, it had proven invaluable. More than once it had saved her skin, because no one expected it of her. There was no weapon easier to hide than throwing knives.

”You really think so?” she confirmed, cocking her head. “I can see where you come from, but throwing daggers is all about the impact strength in the moment you let them fly. Don’t you need a different kind of strength for the duration of straightening the bow?” Not that she was in any way an expert on any of those topics, but she found them intriguing nevertheless. Oliver was probably the first person she had ever met with whom she could launch into talk about distance weapons without being given the odd eye. That ought to be exploited, right? And anyway, any topic that navigated around delicate issues while still keeping them in amiable company could only be a good thing. Like this they would manage to stay friends. Without constant conflict, and it was distant enough for her heart to keep itself in check.

The tender moment they had shared just now was irrevocably gone, and Yassia wasn’t sure if she should feel glad or sad about that fact. Probably glad was the better option for both of them, but she was even more glad it hadn’t ended in so much awkwardness like all those other moments before. The heart is slow to learn, wasn’t there that saying? Maybe they were slowly learning, both of them. They were seeing the boundaries now and even though they kept on toeing them, they both seemed to accept that going further was neither wished for nor allowed. At least that was how Yassia was seeing it, there was no way to tell how Oliver really felt. Once upon a time, he had been like an open book for her, as he hadn’t held anything back. At least she had thought he hadn’t. But if there was a way of understanding each other without the constant fallback into drama, Yassia would happily welcome it, as it meant she would not lose him. Maybe the time for moving on had come not even for her family issues, but also for love issues. Like she had said: Focus on what you had gained, not on what you lost.

The hare tasted wonderful, and Yassia savoured every bite, even though she burnt her tongue and mouth at first, not expecting the heat to be so immense. “Ow, someone’s biting back!” she joked with her mouth full, and then let it be followed by a quick: “Sorry, not very ladylike I know”, once she had swallowed the bite. Then she let her gaze wander over the beautiful meadow and the peacefully running river she had been inside just about an hour ago. This was truly an amiable place and she could understand Oliver’s love for being outside amongst all this. She gladly accepted the water to ease the slight stinging pain in her mouth, and then handed the waterskin back to Oliver. “I don’t be silly, I love this!” she chided him with a smile. “It is the best birth…”, quickly she caught herself and bit her lip. "I mean, the best day I had in a while." Maleeixo, she hadn’t meant to say this! He shouldn’t know! No one should know!

Gladly she took up the topic of her family, anything to distract him from her slip. It was far less painful thinking about them than she had expected. Maybe it was truly time to move on. “The Dyfrènes have been the ruling family for ages. My father was the fourty-seventh king ever since our records start, and the thirty-fifth that bore the name Dyfrène.” She paused and threw her head back to gaze at the clear sky, musing: “It’s quite a legacy. And I wish to honor the tradition of course. Did I ever tell you how it came to pass I have relatives in Camelot? I am sure you will love the story!”

When it came down to it, Morgana must be pretty convinced that Yassia knew nothing at all. She didn’t know a thing about how a Queen should act, she didn’t know Arthur well enough to judge him and she didn’t know bout Morgana’s plans. That was a hell lot of not knowing, and Yassia clearly begged to differ. What did Morgana, in return, know about Yassia? Even less! Much less! Morgana had been living a life full of luxery and love, and she had thrown all that away because she suddenly wanted to be queen. Yassia on the other hand had to fight for every step she wanted to push through, and so far her dreams and hopes had brought her through half the world, but further away from what she aspired each day. An outside observer may think that their fates were pretty similar, but in Yassia’s eyes, Morgana’s fate was nothing but a distorted picture of her own.

After so many threats Yassia had already received in her life,it was nothng short of a mircle she was still in one piece. Vortigern had nearly stabbed her eyes, she had once nearly lost a hand as a supposed thief and now Morgana wanted to cut out her tongue. This was by far the worst threat so far, as Yassia needed nothing more seriously than her tongue to argue her case. Without a tongue she was a helpless puppet one could push here and there, because she had no means to protest. Oh, she had to be careful, really careful.


”Whatever dream world it is you’re living in, Morgana, I surely don’t want to be part of it”, she muttered and shook her head. Where would this lead? Was it really possible for Morgana to get a hold on Arthur? And when she did, wouldn’t she rather kill him straight away, because there was not even the slightest chance Arthur would ever let her be queen? He would fight against her with his dying breath… but maybe it was better not to mention these things aloud…
Yassia winced as Morgana grabbed her so roughly, and for a moment she expected to be hit. But then, what followed was much much worse in her eyes. Darkness… that brought a few of her dearest fears and most horrible memories to light…

”You want to throw me into an oubliette?” she exclaimed, more panicked than furious. “How dare you! You can’t do this!” And yet Yassia knew she could. Suddenly she had difficulties breathing as vivid images came crashing down on her, of complete blackness… and strong, searching, triumphant hands that seemed to know what they wanted and where to get it even without light…

The greatest palace on earth couldn’t be of any more comfort for Yassia now than this simple hut she was entering, slightly bowing her head so she would not bump against the wooden browpiece. After having slept many nights out in the open or in lousy taverns the clean hut of this woman resembled heaven. It was out of the cold, and it was out of danger for now. Relief washed over Yassia and she felt like a whole lot of weight was lifted from a shoulders at once. At the same time she felt extremely tired and worn, wanted nothing more than to sit down and get a warm soup on top of it. This must be the first moment in days she finally managed to take a breath and slow down, both physically and mentally, and only now she realized how needed it was. She was no machine, she couldn’t go on forever.”Indeed, I have”, she agreed with a weak smile, moving a hand through her greasy hair. “You have no idea about the distances I’ve been covering.”

Then Yassia realized she was talking far too much out of her relief. It would not be good to go around telling her story when she still was in Cenred’s realm, ready to be snatched off her path. Any indication to her whereabouts might be her undoing. But maybe it was too late already?
”My name is… Remei”, she answered hesitantly, not daring to sound her first name, but also unwilling to lie flat out. “And I thank the stars for your kindness, Hunith, a drink would be… just wonderful.” Only now she realized how parched her throat really was, as she had been going without a gulp of water for quite some time. Clearly, Cenred in all his kingly glory had not been as generous as this poor woman.

With a heavy sigh, she lowered herself on the nearest chair and stretched her sore feet. Over the weeks she had become used to a steady walking pace, but she had been stumbling through the woods for hours, as fast as she could. Only sheer willpower had driven her on.
”I need to tell you though”, she started to speak as her bad conscience didn’t let her come to rest, “it might be dangerous for you to take me in. I was being followed, and I don’t know how far I could leave them behind.”

Why was it a compliment by Morgana sounded more like an insult? It might be the tone she used, but somehiw Yassia didn’t feel too smug about having outwitted the wannabe queen for now. She claimed not to be powerhungry, or that was a laugh indeed! Since when did strength have to be established by fear and threats?”Only the weak need to resort to violence to appear strong!” she scoffed, shrugging as if she hadn’t expected anything less coming from Morgana. “Those who are really strong know that respect is not acquired through fear. THAT is why they are respected. Because they respect others. I have yet to find this vital quality in you.”
The way she was talking to Morgana had something of the air an elder sister would show towards the younger one, even though Yassia wasn’t even sure who was the elder one of them. Good-natured, yet patronising. It was risky, but the calmer one in a conversation was always the winner, and Morgana was getting more riled up by the second.

The quick step she took forward and the following hesitation just further proved Yassia right. She had fought against the instinctive wince that followed the near-slap at least halfway succesfully, and now felt a little more smug. She was starting to get the upper hand on this conversation, and that was something not to be underestimated in her current circumstances. How long it would last though, was an entirely different matter.
”A paper signed under duress is not worth the parchment it is made of!” she pointed out, her eyes gleaming. “And I am sure Caitrin very well knows that as well. We’ll just bide our time, you won’t stay on this throne for long.”
That was the plan of course. By now Yassia had made it too clear that she would not side with Morgana willingly, so she could only hope her reign wouldn’t last long. For if it did, Yassia knew she would have to leave Camelot unaccomplished. That would be bitter indeed, and yet better than getting help from such a person as Morgana.

There they did go again. Threats. This time not for her wellbeing, but for that of others. In a way that was far worse, and much more complicated to shrug off.
”I can hardly believe my word of allegiance is so important to you, so that you risk the wellbeing of your hostages”, she brought out between clenched teeth, forcing herself to stay calm when all she wanted to do was leaping at Morgana, trying to engage her in a very unladylike punchfight. She had reached that stage of not caring. The mentioning of Arthur being tortured brought a heap of most unwelcome pictures to the forfront of her mind, and she couldn’t suppress a shiver. The body language clearly gave away her unease, even though her words were fake confident. “For that you’d have to capture him first, and I doubt that will happen. He’ll rather catch YOU by surprise!”

The shade spoke and it was the voice of a woman. That reassured Yassia at least to an extent, as she wasn’t really in the mood to trust male company now. Too many men had exploited her weakened state in the last few weeks and had reared their ugly heads whenever there was something to gain for their own pleasure. It was oh so very predictable, but sadly that didn’t make it easier to avoid. In her state, she really had to accept any help that was offered to her, even though no help usually came without a price. The question had long since ceased to be wether there would be a price or not, it had become the question of whether she was willing to accept this price. Sometimes the cost was just so much more than could be beared, but sometimes you also had to sacrifice your pride if you wanted to live.

And yet, danger could hide behind every caring mask, another lesson she had had to learn. Yassia took only hesistant steps towards the shade, until the receeding light showed her the outlines of an elderly woman, a clear mother-type with eyes glowing warmly, kindness radiating from her very being. Some of Yassia’s tense muscles relaxed as she took in the woman’s features.
”Could I?” she hesitantly asked, not because she didn’t want to be a burden, but because she still didn’t know if she could trust her completely.Peaceful people she had said… and yet this country was ruled by a ruthless king and seemed almost petrified in fear. “It’ll not be long, I promise”, she said, having made up her mind this instant.

Whoever this woman was,she could not risk staying for long, not even if the woman herself did not mean any harm. For now she had managed to throw them off her track, but they had horses and they knew these lands better than her by half. If they came here and found her in the company of this woman who had obviously helped her… what would happen to her?!
But the prospect of a warm soup after having gone on without any proper food in days was simply irresistible. “That is truly very gracious of you, ma’am”, she replied and waited for the woman to lead her inside.