Although her husband had been trapped in the Emerald Dream for more than a decade, it felt like another ten thousand years for Tyrande. The nights felt lonely and drawn out, her only real companionship coming from her beloved saber and her goddess. Leading the people had been difficult, and Fandral's constant attempts to downplay her authority were infuriating, and his betrayal at the time of the Cataclysm felt like the twisting of the knife in her back. The Cataclysm had destroyed much of Kalimdor, spread fear as much as it did fire and destruction, but with it had come a blessing in disguise. It was discovered that Malfurion had been captured within the Emerald Dream, forced to use his power to spread the corruption of the Nightmare. With the help of the great Dragon Aspects, Alexstrasza and Ysera, along with Varian Wrynn and Broll Bearmantle, they had delved deep within the Nightmare and saved her beloved, pulling him from the Dream and into reality. And so he had returned, but the Dream had… changed him. Feathers like great wings draped from his arms, large horns of a stag grew from his head, his body was covered in glowing blue markings as if the goddess herself had painted him, and his feet now the paws of a cat, something Tyrande found to be humorously charming.
Malfurion, for now, could no longer go into the Dream, not until the Nightmare was vanquished and Azeroth was safe from Deathwing's destruction. They could finally be together, and it was soon after they had come to realize this did they have their marriage. Broll cried. Nothing brought Tyrande more joy than being able to look into her husband's eyes, see him smiling back at her, to feel him hold her and erase her loneliness like it had never been there at all.
They were alone now, the wedding ceremony having come and gone, Tyrande lounging across her bed (though she supposed it was their bed now), the violet sheets complimenting her long blue hair, loose and teased between her fingers as she stared at Malfurion from where he stood on the balcony, overlooking their city of Darnassus, a perfect view of the full moon providing a light to the room that made his skin glow. They were both quiet, enjoying two different views they had not seen in years.
"Malfurion," Tyrande said, breaking their silence, her voice smooth and quiet like the night itself, "come to me. I wish to see my husband." She sat up, extending her hand to him. Malfurion turned to her, still saying nothing as he approached, standing before her and taking her hand in his own, simply staring at her knuckles. Her hands were calloused, more so than his own, which was expected. She had always been tougher. He pressed his lips against her hand, letting his lips linger, the affection euphoric to finally be able to give.
"I cannot imagine what you have gone through, my love," he said suddenly, closing his eyes as Tyrande stood up on her knees so she could press the palm of her hand against his bearded cheek, petting him with her thumb. "I wish I could have been here for you."
"Hush, darling," Tyrande brushed some of the hair out of his face, running her fingers through the knotty green strands. She'd have to help him brush all that hair, but nothing gave her more joy than to be able to feel it again. "You were doing what your duty bound you to do. There is no shame in that, and the important thing is that we are together now. Just the two of us. Unless our goddess demands it, I will let nothing separate us again." She sat back down, attempting to pull him into bed with her, but he was being stubborn. "What is wrong, my dearest? You have been avoidant since the ceremony." Her voice was laced with concern, and that alone was enough guilt to get Malfurion talking.
"I no longer feel worthy to lie next to you, Tyrande," he admitted, averting his gaze from her own. Her eyes had always shown such power and authority, intimidated all that looked upon her, but he only found love and adoration in her gaze. Truly, he was the luckiest man alive. "The Emerald Dream changed me. I don't feel like the same man you fell in love with so many years ago. I was so overwhelmed with my love for you when I asked you to marry me, but I now realize how selfish it was. I did not consider… Tyrande-" He was interrupted by lips pressed to his own, lips that were scarred from thousands of years of battle, lips that had tasted the blood of countless enemies, lips he had felt so many times before but it still sent sparks through his heart at every kiss. He felt her hands on his face, holding him in her embrace, and any protest he held before was gone in that instant, his own hands, softer than hers, found a place to rest against the small her back and the back of her head, pulling her close. She leaned back, and he followed, allowing himself to be lowered until she lay against the silk covered mattress and he loomed above her. Their kiss broke, and seeing her lay there beneath him, a victorious grin on her lips which showed off her sharp fangs and her hair spread in all directions made him feel like he was in his youth again.
Age wasn't something he often thought about. It was hard to come to terms with being mortal, he didn't dare think about Tyrande losing him to age or vice versa, but it was a reality they may well have to face one day. Fortunately, that day would not come for a long time.
"Ah, you've always had my heart wrapped around your finger, my moon and stars," he pressed a kiss to her cheek, then her jaw, then her neck. She tilted her head, craving his lips against her skin, chest falling with a pleased sigh.
"Malfurion," her fingers affectionately cupped his chin, prying him away from her neck. She sat up cross-legged on the bed, and he imitated her position. "I chose you as my husband. I have loved you for more than ten thousand years, and we have both changed since then. The world has changed time and time again, and we have adapted. We've grown stronger. As we grow, so too should our love, and no amount of feathers will change that."
"Really? I have faith in your love, but would you say the same if I were eternally stuck as one of the Owlkin?"
Tyrande laughed, a sound similar to that of music. "If that were to happen, I suppose I'd have to get used to kissing a beak!"
"We should be prepared. I could change my form now and we can practice, if you wish."
Strong fingers gripped his beard, pulling him forward. "I will pass. As long as you have lips, Malfurion Stormrage, I shall kiss them," and kiss them she did.