Rudra stood frozen for several seconds looking at the smiling face of Ravaan, his father, THE father who supposedly adored him, who supposedly paid unheard riches to stop his execution.
Rudra shifted his weight from one leg to another. He looked down at his feet, realising finally he was walking around without shoes. His feet were a bloody nightmare of broken nails and bruises he didn't remember how he got. Didn't care. Dragons heal fast. The pain is temporary. And so was Rudra's sufferings.
But death? That was permanent.
"You don't mind seeing me die?" He asked finally, head down, unable to meet Ravaan's eyes. "Life and Death are permanent occurance," said the King of Partha, "There is no point lamenting about that. Deaths must be forgotten and life must be carried on."
It was then Rudra recalled that- in his dreams, at his last moment, - Ravaan hadn't been there.
When he had faced the so-called 'hero' with the deadly sword of Mamon, he had been alone. When he had finally been stabbed in the heart with the sword spreading curses across his body, he had lied alone watching his flesh rotten and his bones crumble. He had bled, hurt and died completely utterly alone.
No crown.
No friend.
No father.
Him. Only him.
And Tish.
She had been there, eyes swimming with tears, looming over his broken form, her hands trembling as she had tried to find a spot on his shoulder where she could touch him without hurting. And that had broken him worse than the Sword of Mamon ever could.
So his feet remained rooted to the ground even as Ravaan turned, "Come, the weather is cold. We must head home fast."
"No," Rudra spoke. Ravaan frozen for the first time. He turned, ''Child?" Rudra balled his fists, "I must stay here. To find the sword. You may not care for my demise but I do. Nobody wants to die!" He blurted, "It hurts, it's scary, and it's...," he recalled Tish's eyes bright with unshed tears, "....sad."
He finally looked up, "I must stay and find the sword. So that I can destroy it before Percival Leonhart finds it," he turned away, "And I am not twenty! I'm twenty six!" He threw the last part as if it had any signifance.
Ravaan stood, eyebrows raised. At some point Nayan had got out, shoulders hunched to make her frame smaller, "Y-Your Majesty. The Prince hit his head so-" she stuttered, pathetic.
"Stay with him and aid him to find his little sword," Ravaan said and resumed walking down the corridor, towards the stairs, "Hmm, one should hit his head now and then," he murmured more to himself than to Nayan.
Nayan didn't dare to follow the Dragon King. But she did a few steps inching close to the stairs only to catch glances of the rows of soldiers and delegates who had followed King for physical and diplomatic protection.
Amidst them was Shia. She was dressed in white formal attire, her brown hair neatly tied, the gold in her eyes shining like jewels as they flickered up to look at the King. Along with the other delegates, she bowed to Ravaan, low and respectful.
Only once she looked up at Nayan. And then without so much as a greeting or atleast a smile, she turned away, following Ravaan out of the door, ignoring Nayan as if she was a stranger. As if they hadn't been married for past four years. Nayan gulped.
She was definitely angry. For once, Nayan was glad for the world-ending crisis which would keep her awar from her angry wife for some time.
__________________________________________
"Who was Mamon, Rudra?"
Rudra opened his eyes. Almost immediately he knew he was back. Back in the past. Where he had died. Where Tish had cried. He looked down at his hands. They weren't bloody. So this wasn't when he had died.
He turned back to find Tish standing, or rather leaning against the wall of her cell. She looked pale, eyes squeezed shut. Nausea.
Tish was breathing through her mouth, probably because she wasn't yet habituated with the thin air lacking oxygen.
Rudra realised he was back to the early days of Teresa's imprisonment- when he had locked her up in a prison in the remote area of Alaka- a place over four thousand years high from the sea level. For a newcomer, it must be a lot of inconvenient.
But Rudra couldn't help her in this dream. Because it had already happened. Because he had not helped her in his past life. And now he had to suffer seeing himself hurting Tish every night when he closed his eyes.
So he walked to Tish, "Mamon was a traitor," he uttered, like an actor of a poorly written script- a script written by the fate itself - ,"Lover of the first dragon. Also, her murderer," he walked back to Tish, he didn't help her, "Rumours are that he had been a man from Benevia. Like you," he reached a hand, his thumb and forefinger carefully plucking a stand of hair off her forehead to push it back, his touch nothing more than clinical, "Does treachery, betray, stupidity - all sorts of those things run through the blood of your people?"
Tish's lips curled with disgust. She sharply turned her head as if even the lightest touch of Rudra's hand stinged like a bad burn, even weak, she didn't lack in the fire of hatred, "A traitor? I say Mamon was a hero."
Rudra exhaled, eyes boring into hers, "You humans are quite fond of the concept of heroism. Nobody is truly a hero, Tish. We all are villains in someone's story. So it is immaterial who is a hero. But he indeed was the winner. He defeated the first dragon," he leaned forward, not because he craved his presence, but because he knew his very essence disturbed Tish as much as hers did his, "And the history is written only by winners."
Tish squeezed her eyes shut. She was shaking- Rudra couldn't tell whether from fear or sheer anger.
Probably both. With her it was always both.
"You may be right," Tish spoke finally once she has started shaking less, "But good always wins over bad, Rudra. Light will always overcome darkness. And you?" She glares at Rudra or atleast tried to, her gaze looked unfocused, hazy, "You will fall."
And she fell.
Everything slowed down. Rudra watched her falling, instinctively itching to catch her. But the past Rudra had never caught her.
CATCH HER.
He only stood, with a smile starting to bloom on his face at the irony of her falling from sheer lack of enough air just after she had said he'd fall.
CATCH HER DAMMIT!
Her head hit the doorframe on the way down, and then she lied motionless upon the floor, barely breathing.
FOR ONCE. DO THE RIGHT THING!
Rudra kept screaming at himself, feeling trapped in his own body in the dream.
Please....
For once....hold her so she doesn't fly away..