Sjöfn had been lying down, with her head on her paws, but now she stood up and slowly walked over to Ganymede.

“Wolf,” Sjöfn said, her voice already cracking.  “Is that really you?”

Ganymede shrugged and gave an awkward smile.  “It’s really me.”

“What are you doing here?”

Ganymede rubbed the back of her neck.  “I wanted to see you.”

Sjöfn considered her for a few seconds, then turned her head away.  “Why?”

“Because I…” Ganymede raced to get all of her thoughts together.  “I wanted to apologize.  For so many things.”

Sjöfn kept her head turned away, but trained her eye on Ganymede.

Ganymede sighed.  “I was… cruel to you when we last spoke.  And I didn’t mean all the things I said.”  She looked down.  “I was upset.  About a lot of things.  Some of it was because of what you said to me.  But not all of it.  I blamed you for things that weren’t your fault, and… I said some things about you that I don’t think are true.  But worse than that, I… I pushed you away, when… I don’t think that was ever what I actually wanted.”

Sjöfn turned to face her more directly.  Her eyes were still sad, but her expression was filling with some kind of hope.

“I… when you said you loved me, I… I didn’t know how to take it,” Ganymede continued.  “Because… I still don’t really know what love is.  So many people have told me they love me, but I don’t think any of them actually meant it, or if they did, they didn’t show it in any ways that made any sense to me.  And a lot of them insulted me and hurt me.”

“I know,” Sjöfn whispered.  “And I am so sorry.”

“But it’s not even just them,” Ganymede said.  “It’s me.  I think I love people.  But whenever I try to show that love in ways that do make sense to me, it always ends up hurting them, too.  Something about me makes it so that’s what always happens, both ways.  And I don’t know how to make it stop.”  Ganymede shrugged again.  “You told me you loved me, and I just… I just panicked.  I think it was the first time someone ever loved me before I really got a chance to love them, and… that didn’t make any sense to me.  I was afraid… you were going to realize I didn’t love you the way you wanted, and… it was going to hurt you more than anything else I’d ever done to anyone.”

Sjöfn chuckled.  “So you told me you hated me, instead?”

Ganymede winced.  “I know.  I know.  I think I just… wanted to rip off the bandage.  Or I wanted… I wanted to convince you that I wasn’t worth loving, after all, by showing you how horrible I was.  That it wasn’t your fault I didn’t love you, that it wasn’t that you didn’t deserve love.  It was my fault for being unable to give it.”

Sjöfn laughed softly again.  “Wolf, I never even expected you to actually love me back.  It was a nice fantasy when I let myself believe it, but it wasn’t even really what I wanted from you.”

Ganymede raised an eyebrow.  “Then why…”

“I told you when I met you,” Sjöfn said.  “I just wanted to be with you.  But if I couldn’t have that, then I would have been content with knowing that I had done what I needed to help you live your life to the fullest, to live your life the way you wanted to live it.  Without being shackled by the moon.”  She looked away again.  “But I failed to do either one.  And I ruined everything else in the process.”

Ganymede sighed.  “You didn’t.  You really didn’t.  I just… it wasn’t your fault that I had turned my life into a mess.  It was due to decisions I made.”

“I could have shown up to tell you sooner.  Before the worst of everything happened.”

“I was never your responsibility,” Ganymede said.  “I didn’t even know you existed.  I had never done anything for you, not on purpose.”  Ganymede suddenly remembered something.  “Actually, there’s something you told me that I never fully understood.  You said you became ‘finite’ when you left the moon, and that you couldn’t return to it.  Did you give up your immortality for me?”

Sjöfn gasped, then looked completely away from Ganymede.

“No,” Ganymede said, walking around to face Sjöfn again.  “Why?  I wasn’t worth that.  There wasn’t anything I could’ve done that would be worth that.  Nothing worth eternity.”

“You don’t know the cascading effects that one’s actions can have throughout the rest of time,” Sjöfn said.  “My memories of you were always going to last me for my entire life, however long it was.”

“I still wasn’t worth it.  Not that much.”  Tears were coming to Ganymede’s eyes.  “You never owed me that much.”

“My decisions are my own, wolf,” Sjöfn said, smiling back at Ganymede.  “And however it turned out, I have never once regretted my decision to come to earth so I could see you.”

“I just… I can’t offer you anything that’s worth the same amount in return,” Ganymede said.  “I can’t offer you an eternity of love or companionship.  Even if I did, it wouldn’t be worth it.  My love isn’t any good.”

“You’re wrong, wolf.”

With this, Sjöfn suddenly turned and lowered her head to face Ganymede directly.

“You are not the only one on this planet who dedicated herself to reaching the moon,” Sjöfn said.  “You know this, correct?  You are not the only one who shouted to the heavens that they would find a way to the moon.  I was witness to several other similar events, myself.  I was witness to all manner of things that people were willing to do in order to reach the moon.  Some might even say that some of them made even greater sacrifices than you did.”  Sjöfn narrowed her eyes.  “But of all those people out there who were making similar promises to come meet ‘me’, it was you I latched onto.  Do you know why?”

“I… no, I don’t.”

Sjöfn lifted her head.  “As I have told you, the moon is pure potential.  In other words, the moon is pure power.  Nearly everyone who understands the true nature of the moon will realize this about it, and it is why so many people become obsessed over it.”  Sjöfn spread her wings.  “The level of power offered by even a tiny fraction of the moon is unmatched by anything on earth.  So anyone who has ever wanted great power, every leader, every army, every maniac who thinks they have a right to have control over the natural order of things, those people have always been obsessed with the moon.”

Sjöfn folded her wings, and leaned her head closer to Ganymede again.  “But you, wolf,” she said, “you saw the moon, and you connected with its aura–you understood its universe-altering power, as so many have–and all you wanted to do with it was to make a friend.”

Ganymede had no response.  Sjöfn’s gaze was overpowering.

“Of course, you were not the only one who wanted to use power to make friends, either,” Sjöfn continued.  “But most people who look to the moon for that will inevitably find friends on their own.  It is, after all, not actually very difficult to do in most cases.  Believe it or not, you always had that potential within yourself, too.  No one needs the moon’s power to accomplish this.”

Sjöfn moved closer.  “But something different happened with you.  You decided that just ‘making a friend’ wasn’t enough.  You felt as though, if you did that, you would be leaving something behind.  Someone behind.”  She moved closer.  “You knew that, even if you made friends, there would always be people out there who didn’t.  People who hid themselves away from society, or were hidden away by others, who became so deeply isolated that it would require the universe-changing power of the moon just to pull them out of it.”  She was almost touching Ganymede now.  “And you decided you wanted to be friends to those people, more than anything else.  Because you knew they would never have any friends, otherwise.”  Sjöfn’s breath was hot, and something in her eyes was making Ganymede dizzy.  “You saw the moon, and you looked through it to see the lonely people that the moon was hiding.”

“But I ruined my love by doing that.”

Sjöfn lifted her head away.  “What?”

Ganymede shook her head.  “Sorry,” she said.  “It’s something I’ve been thinking about for a while.  I feel like maybe I messed up by going in so hard on this kind of thing.  In trying so hard to connect with the loneliest parts of people… I think I made it so I’m not even capable of making regular friends anymore.  I don’t know how it works.  So even if I did connect to the loneliest people… what would I even be offering them anymore?  Just another person who doesn’t know how to make friends.”

“Wolf…”

“You know, Sjöfn, I lied to you, earlier,” Ganymede said.  “I told you I hated you.  I told you I didn’t love you.  But that’s not true.  I do love you.  But my love’s not the same as your love.  My love’s not worth anything.  I love everyone, no matter who they are.”  Ganymede laughed.  “I love people who have beaten me, insulted me, made me feel like nothing, like I don’t matter at all… What kind of love is that?  Why would you want to be loved by someone who loves that kind of person?  Why would you love someone who loves that kind of person?  I’m a wretch.”

Sjöfn sighed.  “Wolf, while you may be the type of person who wants to rescue people from the cages where they remain trapped and unloved… the truth is, you have also lived the kind of life and lived with the kinds of people who have forced you into a cage, yourself, and that has made it infinitely harder for you to do what it is you want to do.”

Sjöfn leaned closer to her again.  “Though, perhaps not,” Sjöfn said.  “Because only a person who has been in a cage knows what it feels like to be in a cage.  A person who has been in a cage can more easily recognize others who are in cages.”

Ganymede said nothing to this.  She wasn’t sure what Sjöfn meant, and she thought maybe she wasn’t capable of understanding.

“Wolf,” Sjöfn said.  “I would know your true name, if you would tell me.  I think it may help.”

Ganymede looked up at her.  “You should already know,” she said.  “My name is Ganymede.”

“No,” Sjöfn said.  “That is not your true name.”

Ganymede sneered.  “Do you mean ‘Mary’?  I don’t–”

“No,” Sjöfn said.  “That is not your true name, either.”

Ganymede was confused.  “What do you mean, then?”

“Both of those are names that were given to you by others,” Sjöfn said.  “They reflect expectations that others have of you, expectations that you didn’t ask for.  Your mother chose ‘Mary’ in the hopes that you would become a ‘normal’ village girl.  Your uncle and others chose ‘Ganymede’ to mock you for your passions.  You have carried these expectations as part of your very identity, and it is weighing you down.”

“But I like the name ‘Ganymede’,” Ganymede said.

“Perhaps so,” Sjöfn said, “and it could potentially be your true name, but at the moment, it is not.”  Sjöfn leaned in again.  “A true name is something that one chooses for oneself, with full awareness that it is a name of their own choosing, out of any other name they could possibly have.  It is an act of taking ownership of one’s identity.  Do you feel that ‘Ganymede’ is adequately reflective of your identity, now?  Do you still seek the moon, as your nickname had always meant to imply?”

“I…”

A few seconds of silence.

“No,” said the wolf, “I don’t.”

Sjöfn nodded.  “But that does not mean you have given up on what’s truly important to you, does it?  You should have a name that is reflective of that true nature of yours.  One that reflects who you are, and who you want to be, rather than what other people think you are.  A name that reflects your beauty, not one that is meant to belittle you.”

“I don’t know what that is, though,” said the wolf.  “I don’t have a true name to give you.”

“That is all right,” Sjöfn said.  “Lacking a name does not mean you lack character.  Most people don’t have true names, after all.  And in fact, if it please you, I–”

Sjöfn stopped in the middle of her sentence.  The wolf waited for her to continue.

“Forgive me, wolf,” Sjöfn said.  “I almost said something very presumptuous.”  She blushed and turned away from the wolf yet again, giving a shuddering breath.  “Before we continue, I should ask… what is your purpose in coming here?  Was it simply to apologize to me?  Because if so, I forgive you.  Is there more that you hoped to accomplish, or was that it?”

The wolf looked to the floor and thought to herself.  She felt tension rising all over her body once again.

“I wanted to say,” the wolf said, “that I’m not sure it was ever really the moon I was seeking.”  She blushed.  “Well, i-it feels a little silly to say it now, after everything we talked about… I feel like I’m telling you something you already know…”

Sjöfn gave her a sad smile.  “I do not know everything, and I do not know you as well as you know yourself,” she said.  “Please tell me.  Even if it is something I already know, I need to hear it in your words.”

The wolf took in a big breath.

“I used to think the moon was so beautiful,” she said.  “Something caught my eye when I first really looked at it all those years ago, and I never questioned that I wanted to see it.  And it never stopped being beautiful to me, until…” she swallowed.  “Until the night that you flew away from it.”

Slowly, Sjöfn turned back towards her, and stepped closer.

“The moon wasn’t beautiful to me anymore after that, and I didn’t know why.  At first, I thought maybe it was shock, stress… who knows what else,” the wolf continued.  “And… after everything that happened over the next few days, I assumed it was because the moon had lost all the meaning that it had once held for me.  I thought that, but… but I still felt like I had simply lost track of what I was looking for.  It wasn’t gone, it had just… gone elsewhere.”

Sjöfn moved closer.  The wolf could feel the warmth of her breath on her again.

“And then I remembered something else,” the wolf said.  “The last time I felt like I was looking at the moon’s beauty… wasn’t when I was looking at the moon itself.  It was… it was…”

Her eyes were so gorgeous.

“But I didn’t know… I didn’t know for sure.  I had to come here to find out.”  The wolf’s heart was pounding.  “But now I know.  Now I know.”

“What do you know,” the dragon whispered.

“It was…”  Tears rose to the wolf’s eyes.  “It was never the moon.  It was never the moon I was looking at, it was never the moon I was talking to.”  She swallowed.  “It was you.  It was always you.”

The dragon pressed her nose against the wolf’s body, and the wolf grabbed hold of it and squeezed it with all of her might.

“Oh, wolf,” the dragon said, her voice already breaking.  “You’ve already given me so much, I would’ve been happy even if you had only come to visit me, and yet… and yet…”

“I love you,” the wolf said.  “I wanted you to know that.  I love you, I always have, and I never should have told you otherwise.”

“I love you too, wolf…”

“But everything else I said is still true, too,” the wolf said, tears running down her eyes now.  “And I’m so scared.  I’m so scared I’m going to hurt you, I’m so scared my love isn’t worth anything.  But I was even more scared of leaving you alone.  I never meant to do that.”  She sobbed.  “I’m so sorry.  I’m so sorry I left you alone again.”

“It’s okay…”

“I’m sorry,” the wolf said, now falling to her knees, but keeping her arms around the dragon’s snout.  “I’m sorry.  I’m so, so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” the dragon said, also crying now.  “You’re here now, and you’re making me so happy.”

“I love you, but I still don’t even know who you are,” the wolf said.  “I don’t even know who I am, anymore.”  She pushed herself away and looked at the dragon again.  “I don’t know if I can really offer you what you want, or what you need, or… or anything good about a relationship.  I don’t know how to be in a relationship, I–”

“Shhh,” the dragon soothed her.  “I already told you.  All I want is to be with you.  That is good enough for me.”  The dragon tilted her head downwards and bumped the top of her snout against the wolf, looking her in the eyes.  “And you were right, I don’t really know who you are, either.  And I have not even gotten fully used to who I am in this earthen body yet.  We are both strangers to ourselves and to each other.  But that is okay.  Do you know why?”

“Why?”

“Because we can learn together,” the dragon said, smiling.  “And that is what a relationship is.  That is what it means to connect to someone.  As long as you are willing to learn about me, and I am willing to learn about you, we will have a connection, we will have a relationship.”  The dragon pressed against her.  “I am willing to learn about you.  Are you willing to learn about me?”

“Yes,” the wolf said, still sobbing.  “Yes, I’ve never wanted anything more than that.”

“How much do you want it?” the dragon cooed.

“I’d go to the moon for you,” the wolf said.

“And I would go to the earth,” the dragon said.

And so the dragon playfully pushed the wolf to the ground, and the wolf embraced the dragon, and the two of them knew love for the first time.