[ So she is a Lady true, hailing from an Empire which he (unsurprisingly) does not recognize, but acknowledges all the same with the very ease that she refers to him as your highness, and a flatterer, besides. Something about her, her exuberant countenance coupled with the heightened sense of battle (and his feinting just so to avoid being gored by a talon, then pulling back to avoid a rather vicious snap of teeth), has him smiling as well, for he has never before fought precisely in this way. Though Guiding Light remains at the ready in his hands, he has yet to draw it into a swing or lunge into a strike, and though there surely is a small arsenal of spells at his disposal, he hasn't yet called upon them.

Why?

Perhaps this is what it is, to feel alive, to watch as the Lady lands hits which tear scales from hide, crushing bone, already terrifically fractured by a plummet to the ground, into dust. ]

It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance as well, my Lady, but rest assured, I am no flatterer—

[ He only elaborates upon what he sees before his eyes. And in this moment, is the dragon rearing back, the muscles of its neck coiling in a manner which can only signify one thing: fire. Swinging his body hard to the right (and away from his companion, ever-mindful of her presence), he raises a barrier to shield himself from from the breath of flame, fire and boiling hot saliva cascading over the dome and obscuring him from view, though he is most assuredly all right: ]

—take the beast by the neck, Lady Aisha!

[ Its attention will not leave him, of this he is certain. More than magic, and more than being far too pretty, too tempting a target, his King's rank afforded him...

...the power of being a misfortune magnet.

Anything that can attack him will. ]