A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

The General Blackthorn gave his daughter a short look, before following after the Queen, and dragging the rest of the Blackthorn soldiers out along with him. They closed the door quietly behind them. One would never have thought that they were the rescuers with the courtesy that they showed.

No one dared to say anything immediately, though a good few of them wanted to. They waited until they could hear the footsteps retreating away from the door of Oliver's mansion, and then three of them spoke at once.

"What was it that—" Nila began to say.

"You bloody bastard, I'll fricken—" Greeves said.

"A General, Oliver, what the hell—" Judas tried to say.

They tried to valiantly speak over each other, until they seemed to realize as one that they couldn't be heard. Then, after glaring each other down, Greeves and Judas reluctantly allowed Nila to go first.

She lowered her head, and cast aside all that she had wanted to say, in favour of something simple, that contained all the emotions that she wished to express. "Welcome home, Oliver," she said.

He nodded at that, and a smile crept onto his lips, as if that was the one thing that he had wanted to hear.

"You, Nila Felder," he said pointing at her. "I cannot do without." He was towering over her, before she even knew it he had closed the gap. That reckless wildness swirled around him as if it were a stormy wind. The gold in his eyes was almost solid. She leaned back, as if to shrink away from him. It frightened her when he got like this.

But it was an excited sort of fright. The fright that fire gave, before it well and truly went out of control.

"You protected it all," he said. "Lasha assured me that you would. I almost rode home when I heard the news. I almost doubted you. But against a foe of that size, you protected it all. I cannot do without you."

He said those same words again.

"…I would be terribly sad to be separated from you as well," Nila said carefully, relying on the noble words that had begun to pick up from Lasha.

She wondered if Oliver knew how embarrassing he was being. To be standing so close, as if there were no one else in the room aside from her. She wondered if he could see the redness on his cheeks. Never before did she think that his wild recklessness would ever be directed her way. She'd viewed it often enough from the side, but never from the front, and indeed it was a most overwhelming thing.

He refused to allow her that path of retreat. He said again, for a third time, as if he had a sword in hand, and he was seeking to disarm her. There was no strategy, it was just strength and overwhelm, relentlessly battering away at her heart. "I say it again, I cannot be without you, Nila. I will not be without you. I'll bind myself to you, if you would allow it.

I shall marry you, if you would have me."

Nila didn't know quite when she had let her hand fly, she only knew that her slap had left the reddest of marks on Oliver's cheek.

For some reason, he didn't at all look shocked that she'd struck him. Instead, it was a smile that he gave her, as if he were some overbearing king.

"If only you knew…" 'how long I had waited to hear those words…' Nila finished to herself. "Not like this," she told him accusingly, jabbing a relentless finger at him.

He was as wild as a beast now. He was the very animal that she pursued. Marriage he proposed and it took Nila all her strength not to give voice to her agreement there and then. He loomed as the most dangerous of creatures. A union, those were what his words said, but his eyes stated that he wanted to devour her.

'You do not know me so well,' Nila thought to herself, even as her heart beat with the wildest of excitements. 'I am a huntress – I will not allow my pursuit to be shut down so easily.'

"What foulness do you speak so soon after walking in the door, Ser Patrick?" Nila said. She had to fight back her smile. Playing at being a noble was ever so fun. There was amusement there. But it was the happiness that overwhelmed her – the happiness that she could barely contain.

The battle had been hard. She'd been terrified. She questioned her strength more than once. She'd felt pain and exhaustion of a like that she did not think she had before. Above all else, though, it had been the responsibility. She had agreed to do as Oliver asked, wishing to live up to his promises, but more than once did she regret it.

She thought she was sure to be swallowed up by it all. So many lives, so much to consider... However, just for his words, for his confirmation, she felt it all to be worth it.

She tried not to think about the wide eyes of Lasha, or the calculating gaze of Idris, as if he were putting together all the pieces in his head, imagining what their marriage might mean for the future of the Patricks. She made sure that she kept her back to Greeves and Judas, knowing just how infuriating their expressions were likely to be for her.

"Marriage? Is this how you ask it of a woman? Do you not even know of the process of courting?" Nila said, feigning anger. She felt herself to be cruel then. She wished his eyes would have wavered with more uncertainty. "Do you think just because you've claimed yourself the head of a General, you can pick any girl that you might like, and she would fall on her knees, begging for your hand in marriage?

Well, I refuse you. I say that with all the certainty that I have in me. You may consider your proposal rejected, Ser Patrick."

Then his golden eyes did waver, the gaze that seemed as if it wished to conquer the entirety of the world, from west, all the way to east, finally found something that could cause it to flinch. Cruelly, she held him there like that. She burned all the bridges that he had available to him, and left him in the dark waters of despair.

Of course, she knew that Oliver Patrick bore a different heart to most men. She could not crush him with such words, nor make him feel anything more than the slightest bit of uncertainty. She supposed, only because it was him, could she speak so boldly.

'You do not love me,' she thought to herself. 'You do not offer me the heart that I have hunted for the longest time… You look at me only as you would any one of your soldiers that has proved your worth. I will not allow myself to despair at that. For Oliver Patrick, the hunt continues, and I shall use the opportunity that you have provided me.'

She pushed him a step away from her with the palm of her hand. She used the new distance between them as a chance to gather her breath, and recover from the stifling might of who Oliver Patrick had become. And then, ever so sweetly, as if she were a lady raised in the castles, and in the large cities, no different than any other, she offered him a hand.

"Though, Ser, if it please you, I suppose I would not mind courting you for a time…"

She phrased it as if she were doing him a favour. She knew very well Oliver would see through what he was doing. The fact that he returned a smile so quickly showed her that he understood. The gold of his eyes did not seem so dissatisfied with the compromise. Instead, she could have sworn that they bore the slightest hint of approval.

"Very well, my Lady. We shall see what that game brings," he said, as he took her hand with the greatest gentleness that he could muster.

VOLUME THREE – END