With Azel, the concern wasn't how often he fell ill, but how hard it hit him. He'd been lucky enough to avoid the consumption that killed his mother, but the latest strain of flu circling Velthomer had left him bedridden for the last two weeks and didn't show any signs of fading.

Of course Alvis had spared no expense for a healer, sending for the best in the kingdom. Priests and sages had traveled all the way from Edda and had been staying at Velthomer castle at his insistence, treated as honored guests. Though Alvis was by all outward appearances cold and indifferent towards his brother, in truth Azel was the most important person in his life and he would stop at nothing to keep him safe, healthy and by his side.

Right now it was just the two of them in Azel's bedchamber. Azel slept fitfully, tossing and turning under the thick bedcovers. A basin of cold water and several cloths sat nearby; right now the boy shook with chills but those chills could be replaced by fever at any given moment. All Alvis could do was sit beside him and worry.

That was the worst part. Worrying, seeing Azel suffer and knowing he alone couldn't do anything about it. And then there was the fear he tried to repress, the fear that Azel's sickness could reach the point where he suffered the same fate as his mother. That won't happen, he reminded himself harshly, not with the best healers in Edda treating him.

Alvis stifled a yawn. He didn't dare leave his brother's side, but he was tired and the healers had suggested sleep to him several times that evening. Perhaps a quick rest-

"N...no..."

"Azel?"

"No," Azel moaned again, rolling onto his side. "No, you can't. Stay! No, don't leave me, stay, stay!" Immediately Alvis felt guilty for even thinking about sleep.

"Azel! Azel, I'm here," he said, "I'm not going anywhere. It's okay."

"Stay." The word came out as a half-sob; Azel's face was red and beads of sweat were beginning to roll down his cheeks. "You can't leave me. I'll be all alone!" Alvis pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration.

"I'm not leaving," he said firmly. Azel curled up into a tight little ball and clutched the blankets, sniffling pitifully.

"Mama..."

Oh.

"Mama, I need you," Azel continued to whimper, "'m scared. The other kids laugh an' tease me an' big brother's always busy. I don' want you to go..." Alvis laid a hand on his brother's forehead; just as he'd feared it was burning. A fever dream, he realized, Azel was lost in a fever dream. It hadn't been that long ago that his mother died, after all.

"Azel," he whispered, "it's going to be okay. Your big brother's here."

"Mama." The tossing and whimpering continued until Azel's eyes slowly opened. Confused, he glanced around the room. "W...where is she...?" And suddenly he burst into tears, throwing the blankets off and flopping back down into the sweat-soaked sheets. Damn it! Alvis's heart squeezed painfully at the sight and without thinking he gathered Azel in his arms, cradling him the way a father would.

"I'm here," he whispered, "everything's going to be okay." Azel clung to him and sobbed bitterly, and Alvis patted his hair and rubbed his back until he finally stopped. Once Azel was calm, Alvis called for a servant to make up the bed with fresh sheets and a healer to soothe his brother's fevered skin with cool, wet cloths and help him into dry nightclothes. Once again he was ushered out of the room to wait in the hall until the healer said he could come back in.

But this time he didn't feel quite as useless. For when the healer and the servant finished, it was up to him once again to smooth the cold cloth against Azel's forehead and stroke his hair, to reassure him and to tell him stories until he slept once more. It was Alvis who sat beside him, holding his hand while he slept, and it was he who would be there when he woke up.

Azel would always need him, and that knowledge made Alvis himself feel more secure.