Everyone in Benevia knew about the Azhdar Dragon Family. Tish practically grew up hearing stories about Partha and it's fearsome dragons- the same way little children are told about monsters in the dark to keep them from doing something forbidden or stupid.
These stories varied from mild fascinating ones to borderline traumatising. They were about Azhdar dragons defeating hundreds of armies by themselves. They were about dragons raiding distant cities like Azania, Garamantia, Punt from South Eastern continent of the 'Geat Land of Sand and Gold' so much that the entire continent cutting off their trade and other routes with then entire 'Old Continent' (the continent in which both Partha and Benevia were situated).
They were about dragons boiling and drying the entire Sea of Siyahran.
Were these stories true? Most people of Benevia, including Tish, didn't know. But when the offer had come from Partha, that they must send their new Saintess- chose by Rāva herself- Teresa Williams to Partha to be the bride of the Dragon Prince, even Rān had stepped aside and let Partha have it's way.
Tish, for her part, had insistently told herself throughout her journey from Benevia to Partha and also for the better part of the first week of her stay here that those stories about Azhdar dragons were just, well,....stories.
She had told herself that, although, there can be some truth in them, most part of them were surely exaggerations manufactured out of fear of people - fear that helped Azhdar Royale Family to maintain their prowess.
But now, standing before Rudra Azhdar had her re-evaluate her own conclusions.
Because he looked like a man who would have no problem burning down worlds.
The first thing about Rudra she noticed was his sheer size. He was sitting on the bench but still came to the height Tish was standing. She was glad he was sitting. It seemed talking with him while he was standing would give her vertigo.
His shoulders went on forever. His limbs were big enough they could be body mass of four separate people by themselves. And this was him. Without transforming into a Dragon.
Tish suddenly wasn't mad at her country anymore.
It was true that the High Priest Anton had done his best to drill parotism and sacrificial honor in her head before sending her off to Partha but a part of her- a part that still remembered she was barely a twenty one year old girl who was being sent off to become more or less a glorified prisoner- had felt betrayed and abandoned.
Teresa Williams might not be someone of significance but the Saintess of Rāva should be an important figure you should not give away just because the overgrown lizard King of another country was looking for his son's bride.
But looking at him now? Tish was certain she would have given her firstborn child, quite possibly a kidney or two and if it came to it- her good friend Percival (sorry, Percival), to keep this man from invading her homeland.
To put it simply, this was the kind of man you do NOT want to be at war with.
The bench under him looked comically small. He wore white which should have made him look approachable. But it didn't. The fabric was heavy with intricate gold embroidery that ran along the collar and cuffs in patterns and glistened ember catching the last lights of the dusk. The white made his tanned skin stand out even more - bronze and warm- like he was sculpted by a perfectionist sculpturer.
He hadn't looked at her yet. Good. She used those seconds to read him more. The dark hair fell on his forehead and ears in ringlets, it curled at the back of his neck- the only soft feature in his otherwise sharp architecture.
When he finally looked up, Tish forgot to breath. His eyes were amber - like coal before it caught fire- like the sun at the time of setting. And it struck her that the stories had not mentioned this part. This part he was simply beautiful the way dangerous things are beautiful. Tish felt butterflies in her stomach. She wanted to run. She wasn't sure if she wanted to run away from him or towards him but she wanted to run.
This was the man her King had given her to. This was the man Benevia had thought she was worth trading for.
Rudra Azhdar said nothing. He watched her closing the distance with his impossible, unhurried eyes- as if he was already decided what to do with her and was just merely waiting for her to draw the same conclusion.
His voice, when it came, was deep in a way that didn't sound entirely human. It was low and resonant- a Dragon's voice - it vibrated faintly in her chest before the words even registered as words.
"I read your letter."
A pause. He let the silence sit long enough to make her feel it.
"You said you wanted someone to show you around the estate."
It wasn't a question. He didn't elaborate. He resumed waiting.
This was so much harder than writing those damn letters!
Tish decided to start at the beginning. The introduction, "Good evening, My Prince," she bowed, "It is a pleasure to finally meet you. If I am to be honest, the request to have someone show me around the estate was an excuse to finally meet you."
The words were out before she could hold them back. A part of her hoped Saya would come running through the trees and Chuck her into a bush to save her from herself!
The Prince didn't laugh or got angry. He hmmed, which, somehow felt far worse.
"Your name?"
It was an odd question. That the Prince didn't even know the woman his father had decided for him? She had literally written her name on the letter mast night before she had given it to Saya. But Teresa knew better than to ask.
"Teresa Williams," she said, "I am the Saintess of Benevia. You may call me Tish."
Rudra Azhdar didn't look impressed. But ofcourse, when you are a dragon prince of a country full of mythical beings and hunting shapeshifters every afternoon, there should be little left of the world that can actually impress you.
"A Saintess, you say," he sounded mildly annoyed, "So what is the saintly thing you do, Tish?" He rolled her name in his tongue in a way that made her knees go weak.
It felt like sarcasm. It was definitely sarcasm.
"I..," Tish's voice faltered. She felt her eyes going a little blurry but she couldn't look away from Rudra, "I help people. By healing."
Everything and nothing happened at the same time.
The garden remained the same. The fountain was still running, the leaves rustled, the sun was still setting.
But he had gone still.
"Healing," he said the word like he was saying something repulsive but also mildly fascinating, "Ofcourse you do."
He didn't say it like an insult. But to Tish, it still felt like one. Tish opened her mouth and closed it.
"So you help those wounded and uselesss to get back to right path," Rudra continued, he looked away from her, disgusted .
"How fortunate. To be so so good."