Once my kind was abundant in this world; now we are few in number and scattered across the face of Earth. We soared through the skies without fear, without threat. Our grace was unmatched and the flames spewed forth were for play, not war. My young would play at my feet as I guarded the beautiful treasure that I kept for them. I taught them to fly and to be a true dragon then with a love of all treasure, and with a love of the wide open sky. It drives us mad, you see, to be forced underground and into caves. We crave the taste of the clouds in the sky; we crave the feeling that flying instills. A dragon is not evil; a dragon is only as cruel as the people that create those stories about us. We really are not so different than you that fear us so.

The age of man has come; we know that our time is ending. Humans see what they cannot understand and fear it. We are not understood; therefore, in the human’s mind we are a threat. The time for human heroes is at hand and the destruction of the dragons is inevitable.

So many years ago, I had received word that a great hero had slain my brood. They call him a great dragon slayer. What a cruel joke, a great dragon slayer? What about a murderer? He will forever be known in history as the man who saved millions. I will always know the truth. Your human ‘heroes’ are nothing more than ruthless, uncontrolled, brutes. All that my children ever wanted was to fly again, to feel the wind of the atmosphere caressing their wings, carrying them along. A mother weeps for her own, whether the mother be human, dragon, or demon kind. Humans think that we are incapable of anything but destruction. This is false. My kind loves deeply; we love our hatchlings, we love the sky, we love each other.

Yes it is true that a dragon will protect its treasure until its dying breath. Is this so different than humans? You want something to pass down to your children? Well, so does the dragon race. Our heirloom is the treasure that is passed down through the centuries. Rumor has it that our treasure is all stolen from the race of man. My kind has been around for many, many, many years longer than the human race. I saw the first human king build his first mead hall. I saw the first king rampage a dragon’s lair for the treasure and give it to his people. So, would this not make you the thieves?

Beowulf came to destroy me, and he has succeeded. I will not be of this world for much longer. The last of my line will pass, protecting her treasure, as it should be. I can only hope that another dragon will take my place or that perhaps my brood had a single hatchling amongst them before they were eradicated. All I wanted was to be able to protect the heirloom of my family; the careless human thief has paid dearly for his treachery. The human race has no right to take the last thing that would have been handed down to my hatchlings. I have, however, failed in protecting it, just as I have failed in protecting my hatchlings themselves.

I knew from the moment that he entered my lair that this would be the end of me. The scent of my death hung heavily with him, as did the scent of his own death. We would come to kill each other in a battle to the death. Neither of us will have achieved what we were fighting for; me for my life, him for his people. With their king dead, his kingdom will fall apart. I’ve seen it many times before, and things repeat for all eternity when humans are involved. You are really quite uncreative creatures.

As my eyelids flutter a last time I see Beowulf’s men rush up to save him. I almost want to laugh. It’s too late silly boys. You have failed your commander, you have broken the code. I have seen men shake in my presence, I have seen grown men cry, but I have never seen a troop desert their king in the heat of battle as this one has. They have failed in the way that I have: protecting the ones they love.

My scales glitter in the dim light of the cave, as I breathe heavily. I can hear my brood playing in the sunlight just beyond this world. I can almost taste the sky, it is so close. My vision is lit by the sky of the undying lands. My body in joy attempts to fly one last time, and moves no more.

I am soaring above the world; I can see mead halls and their kings. I can see the good queens taking wine and food to their lords before their guests. I see women weeping over sons they’ve lost to demons of the deep. I see mother demons crying over the loss of their sons to men. I wonder if even the demons are not evil creatures, but misunderstood as dragons are in this world. I am finally free.