Yvlan’s sister, the sorceress Ildyr

Yvlan straightened to see his sister approaching, weaving her way through the dead and dying of the battlefield with the same casual grace with which she might have navigated the crowd at a court ball. A few of the aelven soldiers paused their grim work of finishing struggling ghouls, or stripping arms and equipment from the handful of fallen soldiers, to watch her pass.

Yvlan could not blame them. His sister Ildyr was one of the most powerful sorceress’ in this half of the realm, co-ruler of the city of Draich’Nadrur, and most certainly worthy of a lingering glance or two.

There was nothing spare in Ildyr. She had the lean, dangerous beauty of a hunting cat. Flowing dark hair framed her pale face, and in one hand she carried a slim wooden staff, topped with the skull of a dragonling. Around her neck hung a small vial on a silver chain, filled with a dark amber liquid that caught the light in strange ways. Even in the cold of the Mistral mountains, she dressed only in thin, gauzy robes dyed the dark blue of their house, hinting at the sleek form beneath. Around her feet the snow steamed gently as she used her magic to keep the chill at bay.

You’re staring.

Yvlan felt the voice of his dragon, Sevir, sound in his mind. The creature didn’t speak in words, but it could share it’s thoughts with those nearby. Yvlan turned to give it a mock frown, and saw the massive beast chewing on a fallen ghoul with an evident lack of enthusiasm, whilst regarding him with one of its yellow eyes. A nictitating membrane blinked at him. “Shut up, lizard,” Yvlan muttered. The dragon issued the low, throaty rumble that served it for laughter and returned to its meal.

Yvlan turned back as a sister closed the last of the distance between them, and offered her an elaborate courtly bow. “Princess Ildyr of house Malavoi. A thousand congratulations on your great victory!”

He straightened in time to see her rolling her eyes at him, although she could not suppress a small, satisfied smile “We all played our part, brother. I manipulated the very powers of creation of itself to shatter the magical hallucinations which bound our enemy's army together, and you…” she looked around “Well, you waved sharp pieces of metal around most enthusiastically.”

Yvlan snorted, and his sister stepped closer, reaching up to rest a hand on his armoured should. “I saw you kill the vampire. Today is as much your victory as mine,” she said, looking into his eyes, suddenly serious.

Yvlan felt a familiar rush of desire looking into his sister’s eyes. Familiar, but no less powerful for all that. Ildyr’s eyes were blue fire. He knew many in the city thought that he was a hothead and she was the calm, moderating influence in their joint rulership. He knew that was a lie. Although she hid it from most, his sister loved and hated and wanted with an intensity that awed him, and he saw that intensity in her gaze.

Almost without thinking he began to lean towards her, his lips seeking hers. She ducked her head to the side to whisper in his ear. “Not in front of the troops, Yvlan. Later, when we have our privacy.”

He stepped back, catching himself “Of course. Perhaps we should retire to somewhere more private now to...debrief.”

She rolled her eyes again, not bothering to hide her smile this time “Always so impatient! We should pay our respects to our Sylvaneth allies first. And I’m sure the city council will want a report.”

Yvlan groaned. Formalities and diplomacy. How he hated formalities and diplomacy.