Inventory Closed

In a Land That Was Supposed to Be Far Away

(Before I Started Writing Things Down)

That is how these things usually begin.

I should clarify immediately: the land is not that far, and I did not choose it.

I was assigned here. I was the dragon with a tower, a princess, an altitude that makes visitors dizzy, and a mandate that arrived folded too many times. The parchment smelled faintly of damp and old decisions.

So, once upon a time…

No. That’s inaccurate.

Once upon a sequence of increasingly poor decisions made by people who do not have to sleep on gold that remembers every theft committed upon it, I became the dragon of this place.

I am told this makes me the obstacle.

I have never met the people who do the telling.

The First Night After I Unpacked Improperly

The first knight arrived before I had finished unpacking.

He did not knock. They never did.

He did not ask whether the princess wished to be rescued.

He did not ask whether I wished to be guarding anyone.

He shouted his name, his loud lineage, and the word “justice”, in that order.

I wrote down an apology that night and did not deliver it.

I am sorry I burned your shield.

It looked confident. I reacted poorly to that.

Several Apologies Ago

I keep lists now. They were suggested.

Apologies I owe:

To the village, for the smoke, wind direction reports were misleading

To the river, for boiling, I sneezed

To the princess, for assuming silence meant contentment

To the fifth knight, whose horse deserved better

The list grows faster than my hoard.

Gold is heavy in bulk. Regret is heavy individually.

This may not be relevant. I wrote it anyway.

During a Stretch of Mornings That All Felt the Same

She’s not asleep!

I wish people would stop saying that.

She reads. She paces. She sighs at the same loose stone on the third stair every morning. She folds the corners of pages and insists this is not vandalism.

I disagree quietly.

Once, I asked if she wanted to leave.

She said, “Where would I go that doesn’t already expect something from me?”

I did not have an answer so I pretended to nap.

The heat gave me away.

Some Time After “Happily Ever After” Was First Mentioned

They speak of it as if it is a place.

As if it has borders.

As if it does not require upkeep.

I have seen happily ever after arrive on a white horse and leave on foot, quietly, without witnesses. One of them waved at me. I did not wave back. I was unsure if this was appropriate.

No one records that part.

Possibly because it does not sell well or possibly because endings dislike being audited.

After the Tapestry Incident, Which We No Longer Discuss

It is assumed I enjoy burning things.

This is incorrect.

Fire is not a preference but a condition.

I keep a fire extinguisher bolted to the wall beside my sleeping ledge. This was suggested after the incident. I have never used it. Knowing it is there helps.

I breathe the way others apologise, involuntarily and too late.

Once, I tried holding it in. This resulted in a small internal explosion and the permanent loss of my left nostril hair and several ‘irreplaceable’ tapestries.

Never again.

Before I Realised the Tower Wasn’t Mine

The tower predates me.

It was old when my mother curled around it. It was already ancient when the first story about it was told incorrectly.

It is not a prison.

Prisons keep people in.

This tower kept letting endings arrive early and then asked me to put them back.

I was informed of this after accepting the role.

The parchment was long.

The ink was small.

The phrase non-negotiable narrative momentum appeared more than once.

I underlined it.

Then again and then forgot why.

Around the Time I Decided Not to Use Her Name

I will not write her name.

Names invite ownership. Ownership invites claims.

She has been claimed by kingdoms, prophecies, portraits, and men who confuse praise with destiny.

To me, she is the one who brings tea when the nights stretch too far. She does not flinch at my size but at my expectations.

This seems important. I’m not circling it.

After Being Called the Wrong Thing and Preferring It

They named me DRAGOR (always in uppercase.)

This was decided without consultation. I tried it for a century. It never fit.

The princess called me Judy once, by mistake.

She apologised. I did not correct her.

Judy sounds like someone who might listen.

DRAGOR sounds like a conclusion.

I answer to Judy now.

This matters more than it should.

Or less. I am leaving it.

The Day a Knight Did Not Fight

Knight Eleven arrived without armour, trumpet, or speech.

He sat at the base of the tower and waited.

After an hour, I asked what he wanted.

“I was told there would be a dragon,” he said.

“Yes,” I replied.

He nodded and stayed.

That night, I added another apology.

I am sorry. I do not know what to do when I am not being opposed.

Later, When the List Became Concerning

Apologies added:

To the third knight, whose poem I mocked

To the eighth knight, who cried, I panicked

To the princess, for mistaking patience for agreement

To myself, for confusing duty with virtue

I crossed ‘for enjoying it’ out.

I am not revisiting this.

Somewhere Between Fear and Habit

They say I guard her.

This implies violence.

What I do is delay.

I slow the world long enough for questions to catch up. Every knight I frighten away is a future someone else does not have to survive.

Every flame is postponement.

This is not heroism. It is logistics.

The Day She Left (I Think)

She packed lightly:

No crown or mirror. She left the books.

“I already know how those stories end,” she said.

I asked if she wanted me to come.

She looked at me for a long time, the way one does when deciding whether to forgive something that never asked.

“No,” she said. “But thank you for not pretending this was for my own good.”

I did not burn anything that day.

This was difficult. I am understating this.

After the Tower Felt Incorrect

The tower felt wrong without her.

Stories require tension. Without her, the air slackened. Stone cooled faster than usual.

The quiet knight returned and asked if the story was over.

I said stories do not end when people leave.

They end when someone stops insisting.

He wrote that down. I do not know why.

An Era Event, Not Mine, But I Was There

A coughing illness passed through the valley once.

Not the dramatic kind.

The villagers rang bells and blamed each other. I boiled water carefully.

They thanked the mountain.

I did not correct them.

Once Upon a Time, Regrettably

I have avoided this phrase.

It implies innocence.

Once upon a time, I agreed.

I agreed to be frightening so others could feel brave and silent so others could be loud.

I was blamed so the story could keep moving forward.

No one mentioned consent.

I underlined that sentence. I may come back to it. I probably won’t.

Present Tense, Finally

I still breathe fire.

It warms stone instead of ending lives.

It lights paths instead of sealing them.

People pass through the tower. Some stay. Most do not.

I no longer delay endings.

Just assumptions.

This suits me better than DRAGOR ever did.

Much Later, When the Story Stopped Knocking

Inventory (Closed)

Apologies I no longer owe:

For surviving

For questioning

For stepping out of the role written for me

For letting the story end without spectacle

They will rewrite this.

They will say the dragon was defeated.

The princess was saved.

They will add that everyone lived happily ever after.

Let them.

I know what happened.

The story stopped insisting.

And that was enough.

JUDY

(formerly ‘the dragon’)