A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

"Oliver," Asabel said, biting her lip. "Don't. I'm a weak woman. Don't. If you give me hope, I'll cling to it. If you say it's okay, then I'll begin to believe you.

You'll make me stray from all that I hold dear."

"Forgive me, Princess," Oliver said, taking a few steps closer to her, and dropping to a knee in front of her sofa. "I fear that is what I am. I might very well be a corruptor. The noble customs that your people so cherish – I might be the rot that eats away at them. I might very well be the same for you, and your ideals, but I am a greedy man, Princess.

I will dare to reach for it all, until there comes someone that can stop me. If you would give yourself to something so undeserving as Claudia, then I would take you for myself."

"You impudent bastard!" Lancelot howled, striding over, and seizing him by one shoulder. "How dare you? What sort of man dares speak such a thing? To a Queen, damn you! This is not how you court a woman!"
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Asabel too looked stunned. Her tears hadn't paused, but her cheeks had reddened. "Oliver…" she said. "Do you mean that?"

"With all my heart," Oliver said, as humbly as he was able. "Indeed, I am a man of principle, I say again, but they are my own principles. If you would ask something of me, and put yourself in such a position of weakness in front of me, then I am not the sort of man that could leave you be. Indeed, I'll take you, in the place of the Church, and I will enforce upon you the same demands as they.

They would ask for your life, and I would ask the same."

The knight only grew more furious. His grip tightened on Oliver's shoulder as he attempted to withdraw him. In return, Oliver reached up a hand, and grabbed his wrist, exerting a mere force of his own without looking at the man. It was more than enough to pacify him. He kept his eyes on Asabel.

"With your life, I ask that you live," Oliver said. "Behold, the corruptor. They've tarred my name, but in the end, maybe they were right. Given such an opportunity, it's my own ideals I'd enforce. I'm of the same opinion as Minister Hodd, and as Verdant. I would see a Tiger made out of you, Princess Asabel.

If you would give a life, let it be for that. Do not halt. I would not allow it. If you feel my sword over your neck, then let it be to push you forward. You inherited a Kingdom at a time when I needed you most. Do not forget your duty.

Use that which you have, to do that which Arthur couldn't."

"That's what you…" Asabel said, realizing what he'd meant. The tears flowed even more freely then. She covered her face with her hands desperately, but it did nothing to stop the heaving of her shoulders.

Now, even Lancelot didn't know how to act. The rage had all but gone from his eyes, and was replaced instead by confusion. "What..?" He murmured. "I don't understand…"

"You don't need to," Oliver said. "Merely do as you have been doing, and I will be contented. You're a good retainer, Lancelot. Even if you do not like me, I trust you to do as you always have."

"I don't need you to tell me that," Lancelot said. "I don't need you to… And yet, why do you feel the need to? Just what is it that my Lady so fears? No. I should not even speak of it. If it was something she wished us to know, she would have told us."

He murmured to himself just loudly enough for Oliver to hear. Asabel's face was still in her hands, and she seemed determined not to look at either of them.

"I will say one last thing, then I shall take my leave," Oliver said. "If they come for you, Asabel, like you fear, then I will deal with them without mercy. Those that would seek to punish you for all the good you've done come perilously close to any definition this world could have of evil… If true evil, aside from Ingolsol even exists."

He was likely the only one who could have spoken Ingolsol's name so casually. Lancelot flinched hearing it. The two serving girls who had been waiting quietly in the corner of the room flinched as well.

"Indeed!" Ingolsol declared happily, far too loudly for Oliver's liking. "And you remember that, boy! You remember what evil looks like, and how evil serves you! You've made yet another girl cry! You do my work even more effectively than I."

Asabel's fingers were parted ever so slightly, as a single eye peeked through gauging Oliver's expression, trying to decide just how serious he was.

"Why..?" She choked back. "Why like this, Oliver..? For someone like me?"

"Apologies," Oliver said, ever so gently. "But I must correct you there. I did not bend my ideals for you, Princess. I have always been this way. I fear you've seen a false image up until now. Lancelot, I feel, had the right of me from the start."

"No," Lancelot said carefully, as he studied him through narrowed eyes, as though he was looking at some rare type of monster. "I don't think I could ever claim that."

There, Oliver decided to draw his line. He didn't know if what he'd done was right, or whether it was wrong, but he'd spoken honestly, and from his experience, that was at least some sort of way towards rightness. Even the worst parts of him could appreciate honesty, at times. He didn't know if Asabel appreciated it, given her tears, and the way she now refused to even meet his gaze.

There was a very real chance that she would never wish to speak to him again. That she'd cut off all relations completely, for good now. He'd betrayed her expectations. He'd shown her, as best as he could given the circumstances, that he was not the sought of honour-bound knight that she expected him to be. He could not be such a man – he had endured too much. Besides, Ingolsol would never allow it.