Fealty

"You summoned me, brother?  Is everything well?"

Ilon stepped cautiously into the great, crystal-coated cavern that his sibling claimed as his chambers.  His passage was marked with the anxious whisper of his heavy robes on the stone floor, whispers that echoed throughout the great space.  The heap of pillows piled in the far corner finally stirred, but only to burrow deeper into the mass of furs and fabrics.

"I ache, brother-mine.  I ache and I know not if there is a cure in this world for it."

Though his voice was muffled, the peculiar strength of Ilaron's voice resonated through Ilon's bones.  He shuddered and pulled the heavy white robes tighter in a futile effort to fend off the everpresent chill.  The chamber wasn't to blame for the cold, of course; one needed only to know what was under the massive mound of blankets and cushions to understand.

"Tell me, brother," Ilon implored.  "Tell me and perhaps we might find some relief, if not a cure."  He spread his hands in a placating gesture that went unseen.

A metallic, if eerily melodic, rumble emanated from the corner and, at long last, his brother pushed a long, platinum limb from the tangle of covers and pillows.  Another limb followed, with the rest of Ilaron's great form practically slithering forth in a quicksilver rush of scales and claws and horns.  The temperature plummeted and Ilon fought to keep his teeth from chattering while the bright dragon uncoiled.

"Please.  Ilaron." 

Ilaron stalked anxiously around the chamber.  He paced, every step marked by the rasp of claws or scrape of scales as his tail lashed at a wall or the floor. 

"I saw him again," Ilaron said.  His voice rose in a bellow that set the crystals of the chamber to tremble.  "I saw him, brother-mine.  By the river, with his troops- would that I should have swooped and snatched him up right then and there!"

"Stop, brother."

Ilon reached out and caught one of his brother's forelimbs with a hand.  Though far from strong enough to truly stop the creature, the touch alone was enough.  The dragon stopped, head ducked and eyes shut, his entire being gone from an embodiment of restless energy to one of abject misery.  He heaved a leaden sigh and all but collapsed, while frost expanded from his body to creep across the floor.

All the same, Ilon reached up to flip back his hood, exposing a pale, fine-boned face possessed of gray eyes and a naturally serious demeanor.  That free hand quickly passed through his short, platinum hair to smooth it out before he reached further to lay that hand on his brother's near shoulder.

"Look at me, Ilaron."

The dragon obeyed grudgingly.  His head tilted and he cracked a gray eye open to balefully glare at his blessed twin.  Save for the slitted pupil and sheer size, the eyes might well have been of the same person.  Even the scales were a fitting match to the man's hair, with similar echoes found within their mutually lithe physiques.  Only one was a dragon, the other a man, and neither had seen the other in any other way.

Ilon moved toward the beast's great head, only to cup freezing cheeks within his palms.  He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to each of his brother's eyeridges and, though his lips were numb, he said:

"I have a plan."