Mars

Commands the troops. A dragon who rarely socialises but is extremely skilled in battle, Mars only comes out of her den when conflict is brewing. She's a berserker, diving headfirst into enemy lines and not stopping until her foes are down or have fled. Her own men stay clear of her, as she doesn't discern between allies or opponents when in a rage.

Mars has two confidantes: her best friend Venus and her spy master Phobos. Her friendship with Venus goes back to before they joined up with the Council. The imperial lead his own clan back then. Mars used to belong to a pack of gaoler seekers who hunted down Shade creatures in the Scarred Wasteland, but one of their chases lead them far out of their territory. They happened upon Venus' base camp and the ensuing battle between them and the monster left the lair in shambles. Only a few of the gaolers were still alive, not enough to continue their pack. Instead of morning their dead or apologising to the dragons who's home they just thrashed, they simply turned around to head back the way they'd come.
Venus stepped up and demanded that they clean up the rubble and bury their fallen pack members, upon which Mars, still bloodied by the fight, turned on him and tackled him to the ground. She snarled things about keeping other dragons safe from Shade corruption and that her packmates would be left here to rot, as was the will of the Plaguebringer. From their decaying corpses the Plague would spread to other dragons. With a savage grin she explained that this was a great opportunity for Venus to test himself and his clan against the disease, a trial that would weed out the weak from his tribe.
Enraged, Venus pushed Mars off of him with a mighty heave and the two warriors threw themselves in battle. Despite her numerous wounds Mars held her own, coming close to landing a fatal blow a couple of times, but in the end the imperial won out. He pinned the gaoler to the ground, jaws around her throat. Mars' two remaining packmates looked down on her with disappointment, then walked away from the destroyed lair. Mars herself managed a growl to Venus, telling him to kill her and be done with it. He let go of her throat, but kept her pinned and told her that she would clean up her mess; he would not let his clan become infected. He winced as she let out a bark of laughter, informing him that it was already to late for that. During the scuffle she'd bitten him numerous times: he was infected and his clan would soon follow if he stayed with them.

Venus had nothing to say. He'd heard stories about the Plague, there was no way to predict if he would survive. He left Mars lying where she'd fallen, she was in no state to go anywhere, and set about burying the other gaolers himself. After the gruesome task he announced that he would leave his clanmates and sit out the disease until it either passed or he succombed to it. He could already feel his temperature rising.
Mars, who had spent this time licking her wounds, refusing any aid or medical supplies, got up stiffly to follow him. Curious to see how he'd fare, she stalked after him until Venus found a secluded spot to lay down and rest. He growled at her to leave him alone, but she admitted that she was impressed with his fighting skill, and would be more impressed still if he could weather the disease. Too tired and sick to fight her off, the imperial begrudgingly accepted her presence before falling into a fitful sleep.

The next days were grueling. Riddled by fever and nausea, all Venus could do was to drag himself over to a nearby creak for a sip of water. Dreams and hallucinations blended into eachother until he couldn't tell if he was awake or asleep. During the ordeal Mars sat patiently by, studying him, never reaching out a paw to help. She would talk to him about the ideals of her Flight, or rather her pack. They had been a small subsection of a larger gaoler order, tasked with hunting down the most deadly of Shade-infected creatures. Only the very strongest of the order were admitted to their rank and they trained rigourusly ever day. Their status fueled their ego's and their interpretation of the Plague rules and ideals grew somewhat more radical than that of their peers. It was the idea of survival of the fittest (or rather survival of the strongest, which is a wholly different thing) taken to the extreme. A dragon could only really trust themself and should be able to fight and survive without any help from others. Every dragon's trials were their own, and if they couldn't deal with them without help, they were weak an unfit to serve the Flight.
These stories and ideas intermingled with Venus' hallucinations, taking on an otherworldly edge. He would not remember much of it after his recovery, but some of it stuck in his subconscious. His own experiences as a clan leader had seen him in situations where he had to deal with the worst of dragonkind, tainting his originally bright view of the world with cynicism. The ideas Mars spouted didn't ring entirely false.
After about two weeks Venus' fever started to subside. It was a painfully slow process, but each day the imperial felt a little of his strength return. He could forage for food again, which he desperately needed as the disease had left him thin and groggy. He spent the evenings conversing with Mars, asking her more about her past as well as telling her about his. She had recovered well from the fight, although patches of hairless, scarred skin now covered her body. When Venus felt like his old self again, he announced his return to his clan, leaving the strange gaoler on an almost amicable note.

Venus didn't immediately notice that things had changed.
Arriving at the den site after a day's walk, he was pleased to see that the wreckage had been cleaned away. He saw his clanmates busy rebuilding their dens and digging a wide trench around the camp. They were so caught up in their labour that they only noticed him as he was about to enter the den site.
Bafflement shone clear on Venus' face as two guardians pummeled him to the ground. They dragged him away from the entrance, Venus was too surprised to even resist. As they tossed him down the muddy trench another dragon ran up, one who he recognised. The pearlcatcher had been the clan's shaman, an elderly creature with a keen eye for the wellbeing of the clan. She halted at the edge of the ditch, pointing down at him with the staff of her office.
'You cannot come back here, Venus,' she called in her hazy voice, 'you have been touched by the Plague.'
'But I've recovered,' the imperial protested, 'look, I'm not diseased anymore, I've beaten the sickness!'
The pearlcatcher shook her greying head. 'We can't risk it. After you left some of the others began to display symptoms. None of them lasted more than a day or two. How can it be that you're still walking while their bodies lay rotting below the ground?'
Venus lowered his head in horror. He had hoped that he'd protected his clan from the Plague by getting rid of the dead gaolers and exiling himself. To hear that his efforts had been in vain, and that this strain was apparently so deadly that there was no logical reason for him to be alive deeply unsettled him.

Tbc