Page 39 of The Longing

And what’s worse, I don’t know what I want either. Other than to be told I am as beautiful as a sunset by a big idiotic dragon who hasn’t a clue.

ALICE

Ithink he might be sulking. It started raining after he left the castle and even after the torches in the courtyard lit themselves, he didn’t return.

I guess I fucked up. The scarring on his wings was not up for discussion and I crossed the line. Fenrother is not exactly a male who has been used to sharing his feelings, or anything.

I suspect any conversations he’s had with me in the last few days are all going to be longer than anything he’s had for months, years, maybe even decades.

And, who knew, this makes him a very difficult character to get to know.

Lucky me.

I pick at the remains of the meal for a while, waiting, running over an apology, an explanation, and finally an angry monologue about how he shouldn’t keep himself to himself, before I give up, and listening to the rain pounding on the windows, I make my way up the stairs to the bedroom.

He is not there and my heart hits the floor.

I’m not sure why I thought he might have retreated here or that I would see his sombre face light up when I entered.Fenrother is Fenrother. It’s too late to change this grumpy monster into anything other than what he is.

Lonely, alone, and damaged beyond repair.

I can’t fix everything.

No matter how much I might want to.

Fixing other people’s problems was always my modus operandi. I fixed all my girlfriends’ problems at school, whether this was to do with homework or boys.

I stare at the bed for far too long, until something grips at my chest. Something I’m not sure of, but something I can’t ignore. It means I’m halfway to the battlements before I realise what I’m doing.

I’m runningtowardsthe monster, not away from him.

The last few stairs are interesting to say the least because I have a big dress and the rainwater has soaked the stonework. I slip and grab for the wall but go down heavily on one knee with a grunt. It hurts like hell.

I pick myself up, tears of pain hovering in my eyes, and get to the small, heavy wooden door, under which water is flowing like a river. I push it open, and the rain is torrential, coming down in sheets which flow over the tops of the castellations. Light just about reaches up from the interior courtyard, but otherwise the battlements are in darkness.

I put my hand up over my forehead against the weather, instantly soaked.

“Fenrother!” I call out, but the name is whipped away by another slash of rain and wind.

The cold stone seems empty. Nothing living, nothing with any sense is out here in this weather. Except me.

And then something moves. Something huge. Something which sits like stone upon stone.

It is him.

Sat like a carved gargoyle. Waiting until the end of time.

I find the rain lessening and finally, at least where I stand, it stops.

Above me is a huge wing, stretched out like a living umbrella. Fenrother doesn’t say anything. He remains as still as a statue, his massive dinosaur head staring into the dark and the rain.

I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what to do, so I stand under him until the cold and the wet takes its toll. My body shakes back and forth as I wrap my arms around myself.

“You should not be out here, little mate,” Fenrother says, his voice deeper, booming from his huge form. “The Yeavering does not do weather to suit humans.”

“I want to be with you,” I respond. “You shouldn’t be alone.”

The noise he makes is a hissed, harsh laugh. “I was alone long before you, mate,” he says.

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