Thanks! I kept it ambiguous as to what the setting was, but I was definitely aiming for non-European as something different, hehe. Glad it came through!

Part 2:

This is more familiar territory to the three of them. Tenir nods, confidence filling his stance as he waves a hand for his guards to stand back and readies his poleaxe.

As soon as he's steady, Korana strikes, snaking forward to snap at Tenir. He spins to the side, stabbing at her shoulder, but she's already shifted and his blade skates along her scales. "Barely a tickle," she says, sweeping her tail around to knock his feet from under him. He jumps it and goes for another slash. "Surely you can do better than that?"

"Excuse me for--" he dodges a gust of flame and goes for her wing, scoring a line along its softer surface "--being a little tired after the journey."

"You're right, very uncourteous of me." As she watches the duel continue, neither side achieving more than glancing blows on the other, Melisana is suddenly struck by the realisation that Korana is playing. Even by the standards of their last fight, in which Korana had held back her strength, there's an air of performance to her movements, the motion of her wings and horns and tail more demonstrative than genuinely intending to hurt.

And like the first few pebbles that provoke a landslide with their fall, that thought links up with the thoughts of Korana cleaning her lair, of her making her hoard more prominently visible, of her polishing her claws, even of how frequent her kidnappings have become until the realisation thunders into place. Korana is flirting. By very obviously draconic standards, and Melisana has to wonder if Tenir has also picked up on it - although he's admittedly rather distracted at the moment - but there's no doubt in her mind what's going on here.

And Tenir... if he has picked up on it, he doesn't seem too opposed to the situation. His eyes are steely, but there's that smile he wears when he's training against the other guards back at the palace and he's enjoying the fight, and she's seen him when he's fighting for real. He's grim and silent, with none of this back-and-forth banter.

He's started to lag though, his strength sapped by travel, so Melisana steps forward and calls out, "Korana! A moment, if I may?"

They both draw to a halt and Tenir takes the chance to surreptitiously catch his breath. Korana doesn't look pleased. "What? This is part of your negotiations, princess. Is this a wise move on your part?"

Melisana holds her head high. Korana might prefer negotiating with Tenir for her own reasons, but Melisana is a diplomat in her own right. "I have a counter-proposal that I believe you may be interested in," she says, slipping into the formal language forms she uses when meeting with foreign heads of state.

That catches Korana's attention and she settles back a little. "Go on."

"It is clear that this arrangement, by which I mean you kidnapping me and Sir Tenir negotiating for my return, is a pleasing one to you. But I believe the initial situation has changed slightly and the part you value most now is not the prospect of more riches but instead the thought of facing Sir Tenir in battle. Is this an accurate observation?"

Tenir draws in a sharp breath but says nothing. Korana bares her teeth in what's definitely both a grin and a threat. "It is. And what of it?"

Melisana spreads her hands wide. "This is the goal of your ambitions, and yet you have never faced Sir Tenir at his finest due to the arduous journey he must take to reach us. Would it not be more enjoyable if instead of the three of us participating in this charade indefinitely, you could instead meet and duel on neutral ground after he has regained his strength?"

"Perhaps." Korana looks at her evaluatively. "What benefit do you gain from this though?"

"Aside from being able to return to peaceful rest in my own bed?" Melisana replies dryly, and Korana laughs. "My continual kidnappings are disruptive and squander resources that can be put to better use elsewhere. I propose that our queendom would gift you an amount of coin and goods each season as well as granting Sir Tenir time each fortnight to duel you at Varkan Fields, and in exchange you would no longer kidnap me and would have unhindered passage throughout our land. Would that be acceptable to both you and Sir Tenir?"

"That would be acceptable to me," Tenir says with a little smile, his shoulders relaxing and the end of his poleaxe coming to rest on the ground.

"And to me," says Korana. "There's more to this though, isn't there?" The cunning gleam in her eyes challenges Melisana to say out loud what they both know.

"You find him attractive, don't you?" she says bluntly and Tenir chokes in surprise.

Korana throws back her head as she laughs, flame spilling from her jaws. "I do. I would not take him as my mate, but for dragons, there's a connection of the heart in fighting someone without intending to hurt them. Dueling as we do brings me joy."

"I... I must admit I also enjoy our sparring, lady dragon," Tenir says, sounding a little embarrassed. "I hadn't realised it was how your people show affection, but I'm not opposed to it."

"We are decided then," Melisana says firmly. She borrows Tenir's dagger to nick her palm, holding it out to Korana as the dragon mimics her action with her claw and mingles their blood as vow. "I'll speak to my mother about all this and make the necessary arrangements."

A final grin and a leer spreads across Korana's face, Tenir blushing at the sight of it. "Then I'll see you soon, my knight. You'd best be ready."

Part 1:

"No hard feelings, princess," the dragon says as she dips her great golden head through one of the arched doorways that line Melisana's wing of the palace. "You'll be coming with me though. You know how this goes."

Melisana heaves out an exasperated sigh. "For the spirits' sake, Korana, again? This is the fifth time this season!"

Draconic faces aren't built for expressing shame and Korana doesn't feel it anyway. Melisana knows this because Korana has told her several times before how impressed she is by her own cunning in bringing kidnapped royalty back to her lair in exchange for ransom. Melisana hadn't agreed, but it's hard to argue with someone with five-foot-long teeth in her grin, and she is grateful that Korana had been honourable enough to not eat her at any point.

"Your dear queen mother pays well," is Korana's answer with a shrug. The motion of her wings knocks over a priceless statuette carved by one of Melisana's ancestors.

"You could at least try not to break all of my belongings in the process," Melisana grumbles as she grabs the bag of essentials she'd started keeping after the third kidnapping and walks over to her. The guards outside her rooms stay still and silent, clutching their weapons tightly but making no moves towards the dragon; the queendom had paid dearly during that first encounter when they'd tried to fight off the dragon taking the heir to the throne, and after their efforts had proved ineffective at anything except provoking the dragon's ire, the queen had ordered them to stand down so as to prevent further loss of life. Better that only one life was lost, she'd said, even if that one was her child.

Delicately scooping up Melisana in a clawed hand large enough to fully enclose her, Korana spins around and launches herself into the air, flying swiftly northbound towards her lair in the warmer parts of the region. The wind tears at Melisana's thick hair and snatches at the edge of her tunic, chilling her down to the bone, and she's glad when a short time later Korana lands with a bone-rattling thud at the mouth of a familiar cave.

"And now to wait for your negotiator," Korana says in satisfaction, settling herself down across the entrance. "Make yourself comfortable, you know where things are."

There's no way to get past her, Melisana knows from hard-learned experience, so she picks her way through the rocks and wind-blown debris as she heads deeper in, following a smaller tunnel branching off from the main cavern until she reaches a pile of furs and pine branches next to a shallow indentation filled with clear water. With another sigh, she drops her bag to the ground and lays down on her makeshift bed. This will be home sweet home for the next week until Tenir arrives.

Their relationship had started as nothing more than the occasional word passed from princess to guard, Tenir just one of many in a rotating line of people trained to give their lives to keep her safe. She knew their names, but little more than that; as heir, she had many duties and little time for more than minimal social pleasantries. But things had changed after the first time Korana had entered their lives. Tenir had been part of the group sent to rescue her and while others had tried to strike the dragon down, he had instead proven himself a surprisingly eloquent negotiator. Korana had been intrigued enough to agree to a duel (which Tenir had lost, though he'd fought well) in exchange for a smaller ransom that wouldn't beggar the queendom, and after their return, Tenir had been given a knighthood and the position of Heir's Champion.

In the years since then, Melisana and Tenir have grown closer, with each offering the other a sympathetic ear and advice and eventually coming to consider themselves dear friends. Each time Korana takes her and Tenir chases after them though, Melisana fears that this might be the one when Korana decides she's bored of their back-and-forth and ends it.

There's nothing she can do but wait though, so wait she does. Korana brings her seared rabbits and wild greens to eat and they talk occasionally, but for someone used to a day full of decisions to make and people to manage, the passage of time is frustratingly slow.

With little else to do, it's easy to notice small details; the pile of coins, gems, and beautiful shimmering cloth that makes up Korana's hoard has definitely been moved closer to the entrance, and if Melisana's not mistaken, it seems less haphazardly piled and more arranged than last she saw it. On the fifth day, she catches sight of Korana sweeping aside some of the larger rocks in the entrance with her tail, and on the seventh day she notices Korana scraping her horns and claws against a particular rock to give them a burnished gleam.

"He'll be here soon," Korana says with a grin when Melisana cautiously asks about it. "Can't have the place looking like a troll's den." Which is not something that Korana has ever cared about before, but Korana refuses to elaborate further.

True to her word, Tenir arrives less than an hour later with a small contingent behind him. He's weary and scuffed from the journey, but there's a spark in his eyes and the hint of a smile lurking about his mouth as he looks up at Korana lounging on her hoard and says, "I hadn't realised you enjoyed our lady's company so much that you would bring her here again before the season's end, Korana."

Korana gives a languid stretch before descending, her wings nearly scraping the walls on either side of her. "How else would I make sure that my hoard has enough to be worthy of me? Find some other humans who aren't nearly as entertaining as you?" she replies, baring her teeth in something that Melisana can't tell is a grin or a threat. Knowing Korana, it could be both.

"I'm flattered," Tenir says with a little bow of his head. "Would you tell me your desires? We have a great deal of that crimson silk you took a liking to last time, if that is of interest. It would look beautiful against your scales."

"My desires, hmm..." Korana lowers her head so that she's at eye level with Tenir. He doesn't flinch. "I can think of a few things. Ten thousand yian and a dozen bolts of that silk would be good, yes. Five in crimson and the rest in any colours you think I would like. Surprise me."

Korana's not the only one surprised - Melisana is taken aback by how little Korana is asking for compared to her usual requests. By the look on his face, Tenir is thinking the same. "And... is that all?" he asks cautiously.

She lets out a growl of a laugh, blowing air like a desert wind across his face. "Of course not," she says. "I also want you to fight me, my negotiator."

The pine, whispers a sapling just outside the circle of shade, others rustling their leaves in an unseen wind in agreement, it spreads.

Too far. Too much. No sun for seeds, says a thornbush to its side. The pine in question is a regal old monarch of a tree, branches reaching higher than any other and trunk so wide around that you doubt you could circle it with two dozen people. The ground within its shadow is bare of anything except a thick pungent mat of decaying needles and the other plants cluster resentfully on the outskirts of its perimeter.

Druid. It falls. It rots. It returns to the soil. Seeds, fruits. For the druid. It falls, says the sapling.

"Done," you reply, accepting their terms with a quick fingerflick of magic. You blink and the cracked lines of its bark that earlier looked no different from any other formed by natural growth now resolve themselves into a contract written in a language no others would recognise. The leaves around you shiver in pleased anticipation.

As you stride forward across the boundary, the ancient pine comes into awareness with the low creak of shifting wood. Those younglings. They ask humans to do what they cannot. They want this space, this sun, this soil, but cannot have it. Nothing is here except this one.

You've heard it all before. They always think they're justified in their actions, or that they can convince you they have the right of it. What they don't realise is that you don't care. Anything that can't co-exist will be removed and when nature doesn't work fast enough, you take payment from any plant that asks.

Reaching into your pouch, you draw out a handful of seeds and toss them to the ground. Foolish, it says. The sun is mine. The soil is mine. Your seeds do not grow, human.

"I'm not a human," you say, drawing on your magic. It twists and burrows through your veins, shining green through your skin as flowers sprout in your hair and thorns erupt from your joints. "I'm a druid."

Before it can reply, you plant your feet through the needles and push, energy flooding into the ground and through to your seeds. The seedlings burst into life and with a speed that nature never intended, they engulf the pine in a thickening web of strangling vines that wrap around, over, around again, looping on themselves until not a trace of the pine's bark can be seen through their stifling embrace.

Then they constrict. The pine screams, the sound like a hurricane lashing branches and snapping roots. Needles fall from its boughs in a smothering rain until its bare limbs are left stark against the darkening sky and though you can't see it, you can feel it drying and the rot spreading through its trunk as the vines sap everything they can take.

At last the pine goes silent as its trunk crumbles away, the vines left wrapped around empty air with its hollowed-out imprint as the only sign of where it once stood. With the deed done, you return to the sapling, take your payment, and continue on. They know how to contact you next time something needs pruning.