Free Twilight of the Dragons by Andy Remic

and so he took his axe. This wasn’t well received at the market, and he was certainly remembered, especially after threatening to cut a market trader in half for inappropriate comments about the size of his axe, but all in all, it went smoothly, if embarrassingly for Beetrax, and he returned to his room and penned a short note, which read:
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    Lillith. My love. My life.
    Please come to my room tonight.
    I have writ you a letter.
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    Love,
    Trax X
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    H e sent it with an urchin for a copper piece, then set to work transforming his simple axeman’s room…
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    L illith stood outside the door , frowning. She took a deep breath and went to knock, but the door opened and Beetrax stood, in his cleanest trews, with a new black shirt that, actually, if Lillith thought about it, looked quite good on him. He smiled apprehensively. Lillith smiled back, although there was pain there.
    â€œI wasn’t going to come,” she said.
    â€œI didn’t expect you to,” he said, wretchedly.
    â€œI… I just thought, I knew, I had to hear what you had to say. Before we… you know. Never saw one another again. Before we took a bow, and left the stage, you know?”
    â€œAll your friends think I’m no good,” said Beetrax, and clenched his teeth.
    â€œIt’s not that. It’s just… the drinking. The fighting. And then you turn on me. I can’t take it anymore, Trax. I can’t take the uncertainty. And I know we think we’re in love,” he looked at her hard, then, “but you have to know, if this isn’t love, then it’s over, because nothing lasts forever.”
    â€œLook. Just. Come in. Please.”
    Lillith stepped across the threshold. And, if truth be told, she was stunned.
    The walls were hung with drapes, red, gauzy drapes that gave the room an intimate warmth. Candles burned. Many candles burned. And Lillith knew Beetrax was not the type of man to light a candle. Drink a whiskey flagon? Yes. Buy candles and arrange them romantically and light them? No.
    â€œYou expecting somebody, Beetrax?” she said, her voice low and husky.
    â€œEr. Yes. You.”
    â€œI know. You dolt. Is that a new comfort couch?”
    â€œYes. Took three of us to carry it up the stairs. I hurt my back.”
    â€œMmm.”
    Beetrax looked sheepishly around. “You like red, right?” he said.
    â€œI love red.”
    â€œAnd, and, I lit thirteen candles. You like thirteen, right?”
    â€œI love thirteen. It’s my favourite number.”
    â€œYes. I remember.”
    They stood there, staring at one another in the candlelight. Beetrax wanted to rush over, to take hold of her, to pick her up, to crush her, to love her, but he did not, he could not. Because he’d been a dick. And he’d fucked it up. Like he always fucked it up.
    â€œI have cooked,” he said.
    â€œYou have? What?”
    â€œIt’s, er, slivers of Randa fish on a bed of rice, salad and peppers. Then I razored some cheese shavings over the top. With a touch of garlic. And salt. Er…”
    â€œSounds divine,” said Lillith. “Shall we go in? Sit? Eat?”
    â€œYou want to stay?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œI want to read your letter.”
    â€œAh,” said Beetrax.
    Lillith looked crestfallen. “You mean, you haven’t writ the letter you said you’d writ?”
    â€œNo. I writ it all right.”
    â€œSo are you going to give it to me?”
    â€œI’m just a little… embarrassed.” He stood there, like a small schoolboy who’d forgotten his homework. Lillith decided to take pity on him. He was obviously making an effort. The biggest effort he’d ever made. Which for Beetrax, was quite something.
    â€œTake me through,” she said, again, her voice low and husky.
    Beetrax reached out, took Lillith’s hand, and led her through the main room to the kitchen. Here, he had