Murtagh woke suddenly in the pre-dawn grayness, sure someone had called his name. Instinctively, he looked over to Thorn, curled up on his dais across the room. Thorn's head was up and his eyes were open, and he was looking right at Murtagh.

She's gone, pal, he said quietly, mental voice laced with sympathy.

What? Thorn's tone should have been enough of a clue. But Murtagh was willing to put off the truth a little longer. Who – who's gone?

Nasuada. Thorn looked sadly at him. Not – not five minutes ago.

Gone.

Gone, as in…dead.

There was nothing to think.

And nothing to feel, either, nothing to breathe. Murtagh sat up, swung his legs over the edge of the bed, stared around at his and Thorn's old room, seeing every detail in painful clarity.

…Murtagh?

There wasn't enough air inside. Murtagh stumbled out on numb legs onto the adjoining terrace. To make landing and takeoff easier for Thorn, it didn't have a rail, so Murtagh could stand right on the edge, the flagstones cold and rough under his feet, the breeze cutting through his thin shirt and breeches and ruffling his hair. Ilirea stretched out before him, gray, hazy, and silent.

A dry sound behind him announced Thorn's approach as his scales and claws scraped over the stones. Soon he'd settled down next to Murtagh, crossing his front legs and looking over the city.

Did…how did… Murtagh couldn't frame the words, not even with his mind. How did she…

Her heart stopped in her sleep. It was very peaceful.

He couldn't…couldn't comprehend it. It didn't make sense. Surely Nasuada wasn't gone, she couldn't be, not her…surely she was just still asleep…

High above them, an iron bell tolled, announcing the death of the queen.

It pealed out slow and mournful over the silent city, and every throb of it went right through Murtagh. Somehow his legs lost the will to stand and he found himself on his knees, kneecaps stinging from sudden contact with hard rock. His stomach hurt – she was gone – his chest hurt – she was GONE – everything hurt until he couldn't take it and finally let the tears claw their way out of him.

Thorn crooned in shared pain and pushed his head next to Murtagh. Wrapping his arms around Thorn's muzzle, Murtagh pushed his face against the warm scales and cried brokenly, only half-trying to control it and not even sure why he cared. Thorn's wing, smooth and leather-soft, extended around them so it was just Murtagh and Thorn in their own dark crimson world.

I'm sorry, buddy, said Thorn, over and over. I'm so, so sorry.

Murtagh just clung tighter, his face a wet and soggy mess, feeling Nasuada slowly being ripped away from him and leaving a gaping wound in her place. Don't leave me, Thorn, he begged. Don't ever leave me…

Never. Thorn pushed his head closer, rumbled deep in his chest. Never as long as I live.

Not ever. Tears were clogging Murtagh's throat and his nose was running but he didn't care, he wasn't letting go of Thorn. Never never never –

You are my soulmate and brother and best friend –

– I'll never have someone like you, never ever –

– and we'll never be apart, not as long as we're alive –

– no one can pull us apart, not wars or famines or rulers or wizards –

– or time or space or a thousand bloody spears –

– and even when we die, we won't be apart –

– they'll turn us into stars and place us in the night sky –

– and as long as there's stars we'll still be together –

– and if those stars die all the light that made my stars –

– and all the light that made mine –

– will come together in the deep heavens, and we'll make a new sun –

– and it'll be just the two of us, always forever.

Something warm and wet splashed into the crook of Murtagh's elbow. Raising his head, he saw the dark patch on his sleeve and traced the sparkling trail of a tear all the way up to Thorn's wine-red eye.

THE END

I'm sorry, Murtagh. I'll give you a happier ending next time, swear.