Something slammed into Rudra's side so hard that he could swear he flew a foot or two before he conveniently crashed against the wall.
Then he lay on the floor of his room, blinking, part of his brain aware of screaming on his left, from multiple people.
He didn't move. He started remembering the war: how he had arrived in Benevia, Tish's rejection, and how he had defied his father, the person who had been the omnipotent presence in his life. Afterwards he had walked back to his room, still simmering from the confrontation, to plot his next move, only to fall asleep within minutes. But it hadn't been enough. Half of his senses were still stuck in the dream of Tish's imprisonment in Alaka, while the other half was still stressing over the fact that he had said no to his father for the first time in both his past and present life.
At first he tried to work out whether he was in the present or the past, in a nightmare or in reality. The right side of his head felt wet and throbbing. He touched it, and his palm came away bloody. He sat up. Unlike in the dream, he wasn't trapped in his body, forced to stand and watch Tish fall.
He smiled.
"Smiling?! You're smiling?! You crazy bastard—"
Another crash. But it never reached him. Dazed, Rudra looked up to see Nayan looming over him with her back turned, the muscles beneath her thin shirt rippling like the waves of a restless sea. "Back," she growled, "off! He hit his head!"
Rudra stood up, the pain already becoming distant. "Nayan," he said in a soothing voice, "stand down. I've got this."
Nayan glanced back, eyes widening, but she didn't protest. She shoved the figure back with a grunt and stepped aside. Nayan liked to mess around a lot, but when the situation was dire, she definitely knew how to stand on business.
Rudra tilted his head, looking the stranger up and down. He was a man no older than Rudra himself, with red hair and piercing blue eyes, typically Benevian. He wasn't dressed like a warrior. His armour was too clean, spotless, and covered in unnecessary badges. "And you are?"
"Mamon," he said. "I am Mamon."
A quiet fell over the room for several seconds.
Of all the names in the world to come barging through his door.
"Mamon is a very common name in Benevia, Your Highness," Nayan said, and she audibly swallowed. "To them... that man is a legend."
The red-haired man narrowed his eyes. "Of course he is! He's the only man who ever succeeded in killing a dragon!" He thumped his chest with his fist. "My father named me after him, in the hope that someday I would achieve his level of greatness, and I have no intention of letting him down."
"You needn't let your father down, but that doesn't mean I won't cut you down." Rudra looked around for his sword.
"Stop!" Tish stepped through the door, which hung widely ajar, its lock broken, as though someone had forced his way in. Her face was flushed and her hair tousled, as if she had come running straight out of bed (which, given that it was midnight, was probably the case). The guards, who had been shouting and hovering uselessly at the edges of the room, scurried away at once. They were wise enough to know that the Saintess could very well handle a tussle between a Parthan dragon and a Benevian prince. "He's the Prince of Benevia. Prince Mamon Kosco Rān. If you kill him, not even your father's gold can stop an all-out war."
"And he can throw the Prince of Partha against a wall in the middle of the night?" Nayan snapped. "I know Rudra isn't exactly without fault, but there should at least be a limit to how much you can abuse him."
Mamon sneered. "He sleeps in silks and feathers while the people of my nation spend their nights awake without even a roof over their heads!" He looked at Tish. "Tell them! Tell them how the aid camps are overwhelmed with the injured! Tell them how his reckless actions have literally changed the course of a river and flooded dozens of villages! Tell him how the list of missing people keeps growing!"
"Honestly? I've never thought much of those... little creatures." Rudra waved a hand, dismissive. "Father says they're the same as ants. If ten die, a hundred take their place. If a hundred die, thousands more spawn."
"THEY ARE HUMANS!" Prince Mamon roared.
"They are below me in the food chain!" Rudra scoffed, completely unbothered. "Do you cry over the chicken you ate this morning, little prince? Do you think about the fish you roasted at your leisure? Or the deer you hunted in your annual hunting competitions?" He didn't wait for an answer. "You don't, because you have endless supplies of them. You have people who breed them, raise them and serve them to you on a plate. So don't come here to lecture me about your little pests."
Prince Mamon's face changed colour, from ghastly pale to a vivid red. He reached for his sword. Rudra's lips twitched as he fought back a smile.
"Right. You don't care for humans," Tish murmured. "But you care for me."
Rudra turned his head, eyes widening.
"In your own sick, twisted way," she continued, "you care what I feel."
"Saintess?" Even the Prince of Benevia sounded confused. "I don't see where this is going..."
"So fix it. Fix the bridges, the broken dams, the buildings. Help the people repair their homes, their dreams." She took a step towards Rudra. "You wanted me to marry you? You wanted me to go back to Partha? I will."
The Prince paled. "No," he breathed. "No, no, no, Saintess." He took hasty steps towards her. "Not after what he did to you! I won't let you hand yourself back to that monster!" But Tish simply held up a hand. Her face looked determined, or rather... stubborn.
"Allow me to enter into this contract, Your Highness," she urged. "I want to see whether the dragon can survive kindness as easily as he survives an army or a war. I want to see whether he can live guilt-free while standing face to face with his sins."
She looked at Rudra. "What did you call them? Pests? Ants? Let us see whether your arrogance can survive their hatred, Dragon Prince. Only then, I may... I may consider going back to you."