5.3

The first time Jewel saw her betrothed she felt a bit disappointed.

It was perhaps unfair to compare him to her brother, but other than Smithson who was years his senior there was little else Jewel could consider his peer.

She could hardly compare her betrothed with the peasant boys she had seen across Viznove and the rest of the realm.

But still even then he left less of an impression than she expected.

Paul Nádasdy was hardly much taller than his mother. But unlike the countess he had the awkwardness Jewel could see in her own brother. The way in which he did not even fill out the presence of his own height.

Making a diminutive stature even more unimpressive.

Furthermore he seemed slower in coming to age then the other young men Jewel knew in her life.

He could barely be said to be growing a beard where Jewel’s own brother had the start of a mustache, and his face was really quite round.

It was in contrast to the figure his father cut in the portraits around the Keep.

He was dressed in finery enough for a Countess' son. Although after seeing the extravagance of the High King Murad even that was a bit disappointing. Simple black cloth with a fine stitching of gold and a few metal buttons to sparkle.

At least when he spoke, moved and stood it was with impeccably proper courtesies.

The first sight of him had been when he arrived in Kaeketeh. He was welcomed by his mother first and then Jewel as his betrothed, a chaste kiss to either of her cheeks was offered and that was only barely made awkward by how much of her snout the two of them had to maneuver to keep it graceful.

Neither of them had strayed a single word from the official courtesies for the situation.

But there was something at least to appreciate there.

He didn't stumble at all at the sight of her or pause in apprehending her immensity, or the quality of her voice.

Which was a poor measure of a man but one many others had failed to meet.

Jewel for her part obliged and responded with equal courtesy and kindness.

She strived to not do anything that might frighten a stranger over her appearance.

But it was at least in this respect that Paul Nádasdy impressed her.

He had as little fear apparent to her as Alexander!

If she was being honest Jewel saw and smelled more apprehension from the young man regarding his own mother then Jewel!

Which was a rare moment of what Jewel found to be an utterly correct reaction.

A thirty foot long dragon with an equal to that wingspan she might be.

But it was the Countess Bathory of Viznove who deserved immediate fear and wariness.

Even from her own flesh and blood.

Jewel did not have a chance to speak to her betrothed again for another two days. Although they did spot each other amidst the various persons pulling them through the seemingly endless preparations and court gossip.

She was congratulated by so many lords, ladies, counts, dukes, abbots, priests, low kings and even a wizard other than her familiar circle through all the hours of each day.

But now the two of them were set aside in the northern ‘courtyard’ for ‘privacy’ to speak and acquaint with one another.

Of course chaperones of footmen and the peculiar role of something the Countess called a lady in waiting were present to be sure nothing improper occurred (as if Jewel would ever even think such).

But ostensibly all said between them would be taken to the grave by those watching.

Jewel laid on the fine stones trying to keep her neck and wings relaxed and Paul Nádasdy sat stiffly on a stone bench staring out at the waters of the river.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Neither of them had said more than a brief greeting.

And that was long enough ago Jewel had been able to take note that the shadows had shifted ever so slightly from the sun’s movement.

Her betrothed was sweating under his finery, but not nervously.

Just the unseasonable heat for his form of dress.

Jewel was uncertain what exactly she was supposed to talk to her future husband about.

The books and ballads had much to say on the matter but their situation hardly seemed to fit that. She knew some of the peasants sang to and otherwise sought the affection of each other. But that was a thing to do before a marriage was settled and inevitable.

What did she say?

The silence was filled with nothing but the distant sound from the shore and the water of the river lapping at the sheer stone walls that protected the keep’s isle. The barriers rose sharp and true from the depths of the river and the sign of them sang out of sight to even jewel in the water’s murk.

All to make climbing fraught with peril if an army should make the attempt at a crossing. Paul seemed content after a fashion to just stare at the water as it came southwards to meet them.

Though he did not exactly avoid looking at her.

He just did not turn towards her except when speaking.

After a moment longer of Jewel trying desperately not to fidget any inch of her coils or wings she finally grabbed the first thing that came to her mind as a topic, if just to fill the silence.

“I hope it is not rude to say but I absolutely detest your mother.”

And suddenly her betrothed was convulsing!

He sputtered, choked, twisted forward as if he had been struck then shook and finally right before she or their chaperones could finish rushing to try and aid him she realized what had happened.

Paul Nádasdy, Son of the Countess Elizabeth Bathory was laughing. Not only laughing he was bent over double on his stool and wheezing for breath with the sudden fit of his mirth.

Tears were running down his cheeks and what was worse Jewel was not entirely sure what to do about it.

“My Betrothed! Are you alright?!”

Was he mad?

Cursed?

Injured?

Ensorceled?

Jewel sensed no wizardry upon him but she’d been fooled before.

But he shook his head and waved her off.

Trying and failing to assure her with words between his bellowing guffaws.

Had she been irredeemably foolish?

No she did not think so, he had a looseness to his muscles between the spasms of laughter that certainly seemed at more ease then she had ever seen him before.

He smelled joyous.

But why couldn't he stop laughing?!

Every time he looked at her it just seemed to make it worse and Jewel’s fussing over him eventually led to him leaning against her shoulder trying to get himself into some sort of composure.

Finally after what felt like hours of her soon-to-be-husband howling himself hoarse in mirth and seeming to go a little faint from lack of breath Jewel at last got a proper word out of him.

“Oh thank my birth stars and the mountain souls! Bless you, my wife-to-be. Bless you for being the first person in this entire accursed keep to outright say it.”

Well okay somehow Jewel had done something right by not thinking at all? She may as well continue.

“Well I do not see the jest but I spoke only the truth. I cannot stand your mother. I hope there is no offense”

Her worry nearly started him to laugh again. But he mastered himself and only chuckled a few times, leaning back against her coils to keep himself from falling from his seat.

“She’s barely my mother, I didn't learn to call her that until after I was six. For years I thought my nursemaid Gróa gave birth to me. That should say plenty about how little I saw the countess or care for her company.”

Jewel could not say anything to that, it was not surprising but it made her heart ache to even consider how callously Elizabeth had been towards her own son.

“And no offense taken my wife-to-be, Jewel, No it speaks well to your character and all I’ve heard of you that she has so truly earned your ire.”

He coughed and cleared his throat, Jewel could feel his heart through her scales with their closeness.

“In truth I heartily agree. I absolutely hate that heartless smiling fiend too. ”

And it was at that moment Jewel felt a tension she had not even realized she was carrying loosen.

Her husband-to-be hated his mother.

Jewel marveled at the horror of her life that this so lifted her spirits.