I miss you.

When we first met, it was at the oasis not far from my hut. You recognized me as the SandWing with the clamshell necklace, but said nothing of the sort. I recognized you as the Queen of the IceWings, though you had neglected to wear your tiara that day.

I am familiar with how queens act. Sometimes they will feign ignorance, out of some misplaced deference – like you did that afternoon. Sometimes they will demand my attention, as if there existed no higher power above them – like your daughter did mere days after Darkstalker passed. But it matters not how they address me in the end, for their desires are all the same: my animus powers.

My tongue was ready to spurn your saccharine requests; my claws were ready to whisk me home from your impulsive strikes. Millennia of practice have taught me well. But you had simply asked about the weather. I asked why an IceWing would journey so far from her land, and you had told me that you needed to "get out and stretch your wings". Of course I was suspicious, but at the time, I was simply thankful that you at least had the respect not to ask me about my magic.

I thought you were nice, but I had learned not to make friends. Friends do not wear well the passage of time. Friends can betray you when you need them the most. Friends are not necessary.

Then you came back the next week, at the same time place and still without your tiara. It made me anxious, but I gave you a chance. I will confess though, during the entire time I eyed the skies nervously, as if you would summon an entire army like falling rain from the clouds above.

But the conversation was enjoyable and mild and inoffensive, just as you were. Unusual for an IceWing, and even more unusual for a queen. I steeled myself again for a question about my powers, but the more we talked, the more I thought you simply had no idea who I was. You were just a nice, albeit foolish queen at heart.

Then you asked that question. Yes, you know the one, the question that turned my world on its head. Nobody, no queen or commoner or anyone else, had bothered to ask me something so simple yet so profound: "Do you get lonely sometimes, Jerboa?"

I invited you to my hut shortly after. We sat by the seaside and enjoyed biscuits and tea, something I was unaware that IceWings bothered to partake in. I suppose even a dragon as old as me could stand to learn something new.

It was pleasant. It was the happiest I had been in a very long time. I shocked myself by imploring you to return. I had almost forgotten you were a queen.

And, despite all logic, as if I had animus touched you, you returned the next week.

and then the week after that.

and again, for a third time

over and over

over months, over years, over decades.

Even when Queen Oasis passed, and the entire continent fell into turmoil, you never missed a date. You were never late; you never gave excuses no matter how tired or weary you felt. You must have known that I was thinking of a thousand ways to tilt the war in your favor, to ensure that you would emerge victorious at the end of the conflict. I even considered a spell just to relieve you of the nightmares that plagued you while you slept, if only so you could be happier in life.

But not once did you ask me for my animus powers, not even before I revealed its horrifying cost. You were unlike any other queen who had accosted me before, and even that simple fact enamored me to you.

Because, you see, for once in my life, someone cared about me for more than just my powers. I will never forget the time you wrapped you wings around me when I revealed my true, disfigured self. We cried together then. I could feel your sorrow radiating from your sobs, tears shed for my tragedy.

I felt no pain. I had long since learned to live with myself, missing claws and all. Instead, I cried tears of happiness. It was the first hug I could remember. My radiant warmth played so well against your icy chill, and I willed myself never to forget that moment together.

It was a mistake of the heart, as innocent as it was fatal. It was a mistake that I had instructed myself to avoid for the first two thousand years of my life. Yes, my life is as endless as time itself – a monument to my mother's sins – but that did not mean that I had to follow in her footsteps.

You must have understood the impropriety of our circumstance as well. You pulled yourself away from me, failing to hide how your scales glittered from those last few tears bitterly shed. In those scarce moments, you must have realized a new, unsettling truth, one that stilled the fervent hearts that we had so foolishly borne to each other.

I am eternal, and you are not.

As glaciers melt and mountains crumble, I shall persist, but like all the other queens, you will be lost to the sands of time.

The next time we met, you had changed. You were more polite and less yourself, but wildly unsuccessful in dulling my interest, for behind your facade I still saw the dragon that had captured my attention so effortlessly before. It was my fault, really, to have laid such shoddy brickwork around my soul. Two thousand years of building walls, and all it took was an IceWing, of all dragons, to bring them crumbling down. It would have been humiliating, had I any emotion left besides love for you.

Those were difficult nights, nights where I had come closest to casting a spell in my long, arduous years on this continent. But if I were to do something as vile as enchant the whims of your heart, then I would be no better than my mother, and I am better than my mother.

So I hid my pain, pain more intense than having my digits torn away one by one, and strived to live my best life. I did it for you, and you alone, because no matter what happens, I will always care for you, my wintry dragon.

That's what I told myself, at least. Then came along an ancient evil, one resurrected from my time, that extinguished your life with callous ease.

I was upset. I despaired at my cowardice, my inability to defeat Darkstalker even with my animus powers. I feared pain; I feared death; and despite how I have sworn myself to you for all these years, I had let you perish at His claws.

Do you remember that one time? You had called me a hero then, told me that I had a purpose. I could not help but laugh at the sincerity in your tone. You were so adamant that you even pretended offense!

I often wonder if that was the last thing you thought about before you passed.

I know what you would say. That it was too late to save you, that the plague had already consumed you whole before I could even lift a talon. But, if the death of my only love cannot motivate me to action, then what can?

I hate myself. I hate myself more thoroughly than anyone ever could, even my own mother. You had believed so much in me and my magic.

I'm sorry to have squandered such boundless faith.

... but I think, just maybe, you might be proud of this spell I am soon to cast, as much as you will delight in the news that the threat of Darkstalker has passed, and that your beloved tribe is safe. It is a spell woven with experience gained from millennia of life on this continent, one that I have crafted in honor of you. When cast, it will do two things:

First, it will erase animus magic from this world. A wish touched by your infinite wisdom.

Second, it will make me mortal. I will live to grow old and die like a normal dragon.

I am ready to feel the age seep into my bones. I am ready to feel the ache in my arms whenever I cast my nets into the sea; I am ready to feel my scales ripen when I relax in the afternoon sun. But that is alright. You have convinced me that there is more to life than just living.

Do you know I still stand outside my hut week after week, waiting for you to come by? That I still prepare two cups of tea and two plates of biscuits and talk to myself for an hour, as if you were sat before me?

Yes, yes, I know. I know you would ask me to find a better pastime than talking to ghosts. But you are not of this world anymore, and never will be again; and so, I will selfishly request that you allow me my cherished memories of you. It is the only happiness left in my shattered heart, and I intend to enjoy whatever little of its warmth is left in this life before joining you in the next.

I love you, Glacier, my dearest wintry dragon. Please don't forget me before I can meet you again.

I thought Jerboa's story was tragic, but it wasn't until I really thought about her timelessness that I truly understood how experiencing a friendship as simple as Glacier's would have broken her. With the context of the IceWing queen coming and going in a blink of her lifespan, the motivations behind both of her animus spells are explained far more thoroughly than with just simple heroism.

Thank you for reading this short story. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it.