Foeslayer

In all honesty, Braveheart and I have never been that close. I'm not good with friends, no matter how much I want to be. I never knew when Mother would decide someone wasn't company fit for a dragonet like me and banish them out of my life. I have acquaintances, sure, but no one as close to me as Arctic is.

Which might not actually be saying much.

Braveheart's mother is a minor noble, so we always ran into each other at court functions growing up. Talking with him, weirdly, makes me feel better about my own family. My mother is messed up–but his parents make her look like a daydream. He says he moved out when he was six; but only because his mother was going to kick him out if he didn't. He quit school and joined the army, and lives somewhere at the bottom of the canyon, so low down it can flood in the winter.

When Arctic and I sneak out of Mother's house in the middle of the night, our things all jammed into one bag, and show up at his door in the middle of the day, he doesn't say no.

Arctic sniffs around the damp stone dwelling, littered with my friend's things. He doesn't even try to hide the look of disgust on his face. and I shoot him a look.

"You need to clean your windows," he tells Braveheart, examining them.

Braveheart raises his eyebrows. Nice boyfriend, he mouths behind Arctic's back, and now I'm glaring at my friend too.

"Arctic, dear," I say pointedly. "It's the middle of the day. Why don't we get settled in and let Braveheart get some sleep?" It's all one big room–a pile of blankets in one corner, an area with a wood stove, a rack of weaponry. It's barely enough space for one, let alone three. It's smaller than my bedroom was back home.

"What?" Arctic says. "I was just making a suggestion."

I shoot him a look, and he seems to get the message–because he doesn't say anything else.

"Thank you so, so much, Braveheart," I say pointedly. "We appreciate the hospitality so much."

"Mmm-hmm. Mmm-hmm. How long are you guys... um... staying... again?"

***

Braveheart has to report for guard duty at the border only a few hours later. I pretend not to be awake as he clambers around getting ready, muttering about entitled IceWings and fraternizing with the enemy.

I'm not normally one to walk away from a fight. But right now, I need to at least pretend he's on my side. I have no other options.

As soon as he's gotten out the door, I get up, and start to go through my things. I brought all the jewelry I could carry. It seemed like a way to stick it to my mother; taking all the gifts she's given me and using them to get settled on my own.

The sunset is a deep blood-red, reflecting off the river outside. Everyone is still asleep, and for a moment, I let myself be happy. This is the start of our future. It doesn't matter that we don't have much right now–we'll figure it out.

He's all that matters to me, in the whole wide world.

I check the protection earring is still on. I don't want to make that mistake again, and get in another fight. I see a few dragons by the river, and throw open the door. New neighbours! Maybe they'll be nice. I've never had neighbours before, and I've always wondered what it's like. In the scrolls it sounded wonderful.

I fly down to the river's edge, waving and trying to look friendly. "Hi! Are you guys my neighbours now?"

I think four of them might be family; two dragonets splashing in the water, their parents watching them play as they fill up buckets with water.

"Oh," the dragon with glasses says, startled. "Braveheart moved? He gestures upward. The night sky is so far away down here; it's almost like being underground.

"Oh, um–no, my boyfriend and I are his friends, we're just staying for a while." Maybe I'll ease them into the whole Arctic situation.

"My parents raised me here," Glasses says. "They left it to Mercy and I." He gestures to his wife. "It's not much, but it's home. Everyone knows everyone. Moonrise over there–is a wonderful cook, you can go over to his cave any time and get dinner. Braveheart helps out with the dragonets all the time. Any friend of his is welcome to come over any time, for however long you're staying. I'm Stealth, by the way." he turns around. "Constellation, stop trying to drown your sister," he shouts. The dragonets immediately jump away from each other. He turns back to me.

"What's your name?"

"I'm, um..." Does everyone know my name now? Even here? It's like a whole different world. It's hard to beleive we're even part of the same tribe, our experiences seem so different. "I'm... Foeslayer."

He blinks. "That's an odd name. Mercy, where have I heard that before?"

"Oh! You're–you're the one who ran off with the prince!" Mercy says, wide-eyed. "Oh. Oh my."

"Um... I'm, uh, it's–it's a very complicated–"

"Of course. Of course, dear," she says. But I notice how they've all backed away.

"How did you end up here?" Moonrise asks. "I thought you were that aristocrat's daughter."

I shrug. "My mother and I have a... rocky relationship. I'm on my own now." I shrug, trying not to look like someone they should pity.

"Do you mean to say there's a real life IceWing in Braveheart's place?" Mercy asks, wide-eyed.

"He's really just normal." I say, laughing nervously. Please, please don't try and talk to him, just take my word he's nice. "He's super nice. We're very in love."

Moonrise shakes his head. "There's a war on, you know."

"I know. I'm–I'm a soldier, I'm helping guard the border," I say, trying to keep my tone upbeat.

"It's not right." He grabs his things, takes off, and flies away.

Stealth hesitates while Mercy gathers their dragonets. "I promise," I say, panic starting to show in my voice. "I didn't want to hurt anyone. We loved–do love–each other. Don't you understand?"

"How old are you?" he asks. Which isn't exactly an answer.

"I'm almost eight," I say weakly.

He shakes his head. "You have a lot of growing up to do, kid."

Him and his family fly away back home. I'm left standing by the river as night falls, alone.

***

I shake Arctic awake. I'm not alone. And what they think doesn't matter, so long as I have him. Just keep thinking about him, Foeslayer–and then it'll be all right.

He grumbles. "What are you doing."

"Waking you up. Come on. I miss you."

He wraps his wings around himself. "I think I'm getting sick," he says weakly.

I frown, pressing my talon to his forehead, trying to gauge if he feels less freezing than usual. It's hard to say. "I think you're just tired."

"Thanks to you," he mutters.

"Well, I'll be working all day, so if you want to see me, this is your chance."

Come on. Remind me why I thought you were worth it, Arctic.

Arctic coughs into his talon. "It's too damp down here. I feel like I'm being boiled alive."

I'm too tired–to offer him breakfast and remind him of my undying love. He's not a dragonet. He can pander to his own fragile self-esteem if he likes, but I don't have the energy.

I lie down beside him. "This is our lives now, huh?"

I wonder if the neighbours will ever like me. If I'll ever really fit in anywhere. Even with the love of my life.

I wonder if love is supposed to hurt this much. I don't know. I've never felt this way before.

"I can't decide if this is worse or better," he mutters. "I guess it doesn't matter. Either way, there's nothing left of my soul."

I hesitate. "Arctic..."

"What?" he snaps. "What are you gonna say to that, Foeslayer?"

"We made it out." There are tears in my eyes. "Sure, we're completely alone in the world, but we made it out, and that has to count for something, right?"

"And then what, Foeslayer," he snaps. "Then–the war rages on, and on, and on, maybe for decades. Then we're outcasts and we're–"

"Who cares what they think?!" I scream, shaking him. "This was supposed to be all that mattered, you liar!"

His eyes glisten with what I realize now are tears. Maybe I shouldn't have been so harsh.

"We're stuck in this now," Arctic says bitterly. "This meaningless life. I was supposed to go down in history, and now what? Now what are they gonna call me? I was going to make something brillliant, I was going to be a king–and now–I have you. I have this wretched, damp cave in the middle of nowhere, in a kingdom full of dragons who hate me."

"Don't talk to me that way. If you're going to talk to me that way, you can–"

"Oh, come on. We both know we can't go home," he says scathingly.

We lie there in silence, him and I. After a moment, he reaches out to take my talon in his. I don't let go.

At least I'm not alone.