In a different turn of the wheel, the Second Age, a whole different Age of Legends, the Dragon and his Shadow counterpart are lovers.

Disclaimer: Nothing here is mine.


He sat by the window, his eyes trailing a passing sho-wing, blitzing through a clump of white fluff in an otherwise clear sky.

The one that was called the Dragon poured himself a glass of wine, and, tightening the cords of his bathrobe, he walked over to where the other sat with one leg folded underneath him, atop the window seat. The Dragon watched silently for a long moment, but it seemed the man was so completely and utterly lost in thought. With a quiet chuckle the Dragon leaned forward, pressing a brief kiss on the man's startled lips.

"Morning," the Dragon murmured, kissing the man harder, longer, till he gasped for breath.

"I would make you breakfast, but I take little pleasure in such things. You understand." It was not a question. He watched the Dragon with his still, ever so calm, blue eyes. There was no challenge in them, but they were hardly meek.

The Dragon only shook his head. The man would never allow himself to accept that they had been together for decades. It would be a century in a few more. But no, according to him there was no actual relationship. The Dragon thought himself mad to put up with it, but he supposed love to be a mad affair.

"I've come to see that our souls are entangled," the man had once told him.

The Dragon had laughed. It was an odd thing to say for a man who scarcely allowed himself to admit they were romantically involved in any meaningful sense. But the Dragon hadn't pressed it. He knew under the icy exterior and, still, the thicker inner layers of steel that isolated his heart, the man loved him as much as he could love anyone. That he loved him, the Dragon, so much more than he did himself. There were instances, however brief, when he displayed it. Moments when the man's guard was down, when he ceased to think and measure, caught up in the now, in the sensations, innocent and delightful, the magic of the present.

"Do you still believe it?" The Dragon asked, sipping at his wine. "Believe that our souls are entangled?"

The man regarded him with a searching look, as if suspicious suddenly. But it dissipated as soon as it had formed. He smiled. It was barely a smile, but for him it was substantially sized. It had a sad quality to it. Regretful. But it was not totally deprived of joy.

"I wish it were not so, but what is cannot be denied." He drew to his feet, standing at equal height to the Dragon. "I care for you, I will not deny that either. But, what must be, will be."

The Dragon frowned, but did not bother to ask. Doubtless, he would receive an answer that further confused him. What he did was lean into him, an act requiring little exertion for how close they stood together, and kissed the man again. It was a lovely kiss, packed with heat, tinged with tender affection the man rarely allowed him outside of when they were physically involved.

"I would hate to bid you farewell," the man said in a faint whisper. "I would do it, but hate the act all the same. Perhaps if you remember you will not hate me so much, when I do."

"I think maybe that day might just pass us by." The Dragon liked to believe it would. He liked to believe it already had, and that the man had kept him around this long and would continue to do so. That they would go on this way for all of their lifetime. "It might surprise you."

"If only the universe functioned in such a way." He did sound regretful this time, and almost, not quite but almost, pained.

"The universe can bugger off." The Dragon kissed him harder, smiling when he felt him loosening his sash.

"The wheel weaves as the wheel wills," the man said simply. If there was anger, despise, in his tones they were suppressed, converted into resigned cool.