A/N: This started as a short epilogue to Dragon Eyes, because I felt that the ending was insufficient. It became much more. I don't normally write so much angst, but this is the last page or so of chapter 8, mixed in with Alanna's thoughts at the time, and full of angst. I've decided to let this stand alone, though I encourage you to read Dragon Eyes before or after.

Alanna stopped in front of the altar, staring not at Jonathan, who sat in front of it, head bent with exhaustion and pain, but at the top of the altar itself.

Where the body of Liam Ironarm lay.

Did I know? She asked herself. Did I suspect?

She climbed the steps to look at him, feeling numb. Eight arrows were piled beside him – eight arrows that had hit him again and again, no doubt while he fought back valiantly. Except for the bloodstains on his shirt, he looked like he was simply sleeping; his face calm and relaxed, a slight smile on his lips, and his eyes - those eyes that contained so many meanings in their always-changing colors – closed forever.

Her eyes burned, but she didn't cry. All these deaths, and all she could feel was emptiness. Thom, Si-cham, Faithful, and now Liam – the truth and the loss hadn't hit her yet, she realized as she plucked at Liam's sleeve, wishing more than anything she could bring him back.

Everyone else had made their mistakes, had died for their friends and family, but Liam...what was his death for?

"He and George saved my life – they saved us all." Jonathan said, as if answering the unspoken question. "You'd just gotten to Roger when Tirragen forces attacked me in force. Everyone was drawn away. I was – helpless."

Slowly she began to realize that he would never drag her out of bed in the morning and force her through a strenuous workout, or stare at her, his eyes that aqua color he seemed to save just for her, until it made her uncomfortable. Never again would they argue over trivial details and refuse, out of pride and stubbornness, to come to any kind of middle ground. Never again would she try and understand his fears and dislikes and the nature that made Liam so unique – and never again would she fail to comprehend him.

"They kept me from being...interrupted." Jon continued. "Liam took the arrows meant for me. He didn't even falter, until the last."

She remembered the conversation they had had with Buri, where he had said dying for a noble cause was worth the result. She remembered when he had told her he was scared of dying for nothing. And she knew that, as a Shang Dragon, this was the kind of death he would expect and be prepared for.

It didn't make it any easier for her to live with.

Jon looked at her, his eyes full of ache and sadness too. "I know it isn't much consolation, but they'll sing about the Dragon's last fight for centuries." There was a pause, and then he added softly. "I'm sorry."

It wasn't anyone's fault but hers. She had dragged him along on this crazy journey, and he had followed, out of boredom, perhaps, or maybe because he was impressed by the Lioness and wanted to see her in action. Or maybe it was because he had been attracted to her from the start – as she had certainly been to him – and that attraction had evolved into a love that kept him there when she had moved on – had prepared him to die for her and her country. He had died for a cause and people that meant nothing to him, and all because she had involved him in her life.

She tried to step away, because it hurt to see him lying there, knowing he'd never move again, but she stumbled, falling against George.

"It was the death he always wanted." Jonathan murmured. "We'll honor him always."

Everyone would always honor the Shang Dragon.

But who really was the mysterious Shang Dragon, with whom she had spent so much time, yet so little? She knew next to nothing about him. When they'd met he'd implied that he had known Roger once and that he either hated or feared him. She'd never asked him about it. He had shown his extreme fear of magic time and time again. Yet every time she had stormed off, leaving him to suffer alone instead of trying to figure out why he was so scared.

She had loved him; Goddess knew how much she had loved him. And she had pushed him beyond the point that someone as strong, as stubborn and as proud as he could be pushed. Never had she bothered to sit down and talk about any of their problems and arguments with him. It was a wonder, looking back, that he'd stayed for as long as he had.

Every time he had tried to keep her from going out in to the storm, he was only trying to protect her, to show how much he cared for her, and she pushed him away angrily. Every time he had tried to reason with her, talk to her, she had snapped back. No one could take that forever.

In the same way she had pushed Jonathan away, practically ruining their relationship. She had done the same to Liam and never once looked back.

She nodded at Jon, though she couldn't even remember what he had said last. He reached out his hand and a ball of reddish-purple fire leapt from his fingers to hers.

Her Gift – so wonderful a tool, and yet so painful. Ultimately, she'd used Liam's deepest fear against him, without a thought about the consequences. She'd been so concentrated on one goal, it had never occurred to her to think about what she was doing to Liam. Leaving Faithful there, to magic him, had been one of the biggest mistakes of her life. At the time, the loss that went with that mistake had impacted her in anyway.

Now she felt it.

How she much have hurt him. She had done so little to deserve him, and here he was, lying before her, dead. He had died to save Jonathan, to save Tortall, to save her – and what good had it done him? A noble death, the death he wanted, it was. But to sacrifice himself for people who had done nothing for him, to fight a foe he knew nothing of.

Jonathan took her hand, kissing her bloodstained fingers, reminding her of first time Liam had done that, in an inn in Maren, when he took the time to talk and flirt with the lone female knight there. When all of this began.

If only he hadn't, part of her cried. If only he'd never seen me.

Why had he chosen her, of all people, to devote the end of his life to, to protect and care for, and to love? The Gods knew she had done nothing to deserve it. What had she missed that might had been staring her in the face, but she'd been too blind to see it?

He had hated Roger, she knew that much. She wished she'd taken the time to figure out how. Then maybe his choice of ending might have made more sense.

She wished she had done so many things with him, now that there was no chance to redeem herself.

She hadn't even realized what he meant to her until it was too late, and now she was confused, filled with a sense of guilt and longing as the numbness began to fade.

Somewhere, far away from Alanna, Jonathan was talking again. "We did it, King's Champion." He was saying. "Tortall is safe."

Ah, safety. Yes, they had saved themselves. They had saved the country, and they had saved many people's lives and futures in one horrible day.

But at what cost?