Bitter Turned Sweet

    Embroidered dress swirling around her, she turns to face the prince. He leans against the door, nonchalant as you please. "Now, my sweet rose, I can wait no longer. We must be married at once."
    She approaches him with soft steps, wary of the tiger of his temper. "I am not ready; we mustn't rush." Her forced love curdles in her breast.
    "You will change your mind, dearest, once in the wedding-bed." The smile is back. She loathes it.
    "I... My prince, give me time." Threads on her sleeves are coming loose. She settles her hands.
    "Enough time! Enough! I wait, I delay, and you beg more.
'Tis your life on it now. Obey!"
    A life with him, forever dreading the back of his hand...

    The soldiers come for the princess. Foreign, as is the prince, but they do not speak her tongue. Sympathy for her shows through, nevertheless. At the door, they bow. One ushers her inside. She shudders at the thud-click which has sealed her fate. A slow breath, and she regains her poise.
    Chain clanks, and the young woman feels heavy, slow breath across her face. His sadness bores into her, the sorrows of one already ill-used by a short life… But underneath are still-kind eyes.
    She steps forward and lays a hand on his steel collar. The great head lowers. Moments later, the lock clicks and she returns her hairpin to its place.
    A tentative paw drapes stray hair behind her ear. "You are brave, Princess. Most humans would not dare approach."
    "'Tis fortunate, then. I am not as most humans."
    A rumbling laugh. "Nor I most dragons."