Dane

resident - the winter wolf
he and his brother were warriors side by side. he in his silver and furs, his brother in gold and silks- his brother was honored as a hero, but no one knew of his cruelty. no one but he, that is. the golden dragon was black-hearted, a ruthless killer. the silver was kind and warm.

the golden brother did not care who fell under his blade, so long as the enemy fell too. so many innocents, so many lives cut short. one day, the two stood face to face, a body between them. golden armor, golden sword, stained red. the silver blade flashed, and the dragon in gold fell.

the kingdom mourned their golden hero, and raged against the silver dragon. how could he, they cried, how could he kill his own brother, in cold blood? they called him a traitor, a murderer. and when they caught him, they never gave him a proper burial.

his ghost wandered for centuries, remembering how his own people believed him a cold-hearted killer. in time he believed it himself. he never knew that history said otherwise- many years after his death, his brother's misdeeds were uncovered, and they mourned the silver's awful end.

he learned this at the inn, the first place he was seen in his ghostly form. he was seen, and he was welcomed, and he felt at peace. he reads history books, from his time and others, and reads the news in the mornings, and holds teacups to his lips, and he can almost taste it.