A/N - I don't own warcraft. I don't own the song either - it belongs to Coheed and Cambria
I'm gonna ride this plane out of your life again
I wish that I could stay, but you argue
More than this I wish, you could've seen my face
In backseats staring out, the window
I remember when I first saw him, more than 10,000 years ago. I remember his whimpers of pain as I gently washed his face clean of blood and cinder. I remember how still he lay in his self-induced coma after the Dark God took his eyes. Most of all, I remember how, for the first time in my life, I began to doubt our queen and her judgment.
If the Dark One was willing, was capable, of doing this to one so powerful who had come to serve him…what might he do to us and our beloved Azshara? She, who was willing to sacrifice all her people if it meant appeasing him, all in the name of perfecting her kingdom. What might he have done to her when it was all over?
But, I had seen what happened to those who questioned her. I already knew she had grown tired of me - she had even hinted at replacing me with that warrior priestess. My position as most favored among her maidens was in jeopardy. What would she do to me when she was at last finished with her game?
I held my tongue. I sat at the bedside of the tortured man who had betrayed his own blood to come to us.
But for what? Why had he come? To help us? To warn us? To save us? Why?
I never found out.
I'll do anything for you
Kill anyone for you
I remember when the city fell around us. Azshara denied it was even happening. She demanded we stop to ruckus. She demanded we stay and attend her, prepare her for the arrival of the Dark One. I remember the water rushing in around me, cold and dark. I remember how it burned like liquid fire as it filled my lungs. I coughed and sputtered, and then, abruptly, frighteningly, the pain stopped.
But I wasn't dead.
Azshara claimed our lives were a gift from the Dark God. She told us we must try again to bring him to us.
I began to think she might be mad.
A gift.
The first time I ventured to the surface world and wandered along the coastline, taking in the sight of the ruined cities that littered the shore, the first time I encountered one of the land dwellers - a child that screamed when she saw me - I knew our queen was mad.
A gift?
I caught sight of my reflection in the moonlit waters, the child's cries echoing in my mind, and promptly dove beneath the waves and vowed never to surface again.
A curse.
Ten thousand years of her madness. Ten thousand years of cold, clammy darkness. Ten thousand years of fighting with the Murlocs for control of the sea.
I began to regret my vow.
So leave yourself intact
'Cause I will be coming back
In a phrase to cut these lips
I love you
I don't know what finally made me break my vow. Loneliness, perhaps. But something drew me there. I remember just barely breaking the surface and glancing up at the jeweled sky. I swam to the shore and hid among the kelp, watching the animals move along the coast.
Then, I saw him again. Standing there in the surf, looking right at me with those magical eyes.
He smiled at me. Elune loomed behind him in the sky as he moved towards me and reached out his hand…
It was as if he had come to save me.
The morning will come
In the press of every kiss
With your head upon my chest
Where I will annoy you
With every waking breath
Until you decide to wake up
He whimpers in pain as I press the damp rag against his face. He lies frighteningly still as I trace lines across his chest. The rune thread stitches glow eerily in this darkness and the scent of herbs and blood fills the room.
I've earned through hope and faith
On the curves around your face
That I'm the one you'll hold forever
If morning never comes for either one of us
Then this I pray to you wherever
He coughs and shudders feverishly. Blood seeps through the stitches.
Six months and the wound hasn't closed. I have the sinking feeling that it never will.
Damn Ner'Zhul…
I press the cloth gently against his chest and smooth his forehead with a free hand, whispering to him and praying that my words make it past the nightmares.
Elune, however distant, favors me tonight. He stirs slightly. Past the scars I can plainly see that the flames of the dark one burn no more. He sees nothing, not even magically.
It is too painful for him to even try to focus his sight right now. The pain is simply overwhelming.
His cracked lips move but there is no sound.
I'm here, I whisper. I'll always be here.
Even if you don't know why…
I'll do anything for you
This story is for you
('Cause I'd do anything you want me to for you)
I'll do anything for you
Kill anyone for you
He relaxes and I squeeze his hand. I silently praise the Goddess. It is not often he is able to break out of the nightmares. This is only the second time he has freed himself without Akama's help. It is even rarer for him to do so without immediately succumbing to the delirium. I know that soon one or the other will claim him again and I will either have to bear his madness once more, or worse, his screams, but I am thankful for this moment no matter how brief.
He returns the squeeze with the slightest of smiles. Another rare thing. I dab at his chest as I caress his face. He coughs and I wipe the blood from his lips. Not for the first time I marvel at his resilience. A lesser man would have fallen to the blood loss long ago. I thank the Goddess once more, this time for Akama and his miracle potions.
Thank goddess he doesn't listen to that evil woman.
We sit in silence for some time. He does not try to speak again, and I do not hold it against him. His brow begins to furrow and he shudders weakly, face contorted in pain. He squeezes my hand tighter, and I can feel the cold sweat pouring from him as the fever rises. We both know what's coming. I kiss his cheek and tell him it will all be alright, that I'll be here for him when he gets back.
If he gets back.
So leave yourself intact
'Cause I won't be coming back
In a phrase to cut these lips
I loved you
He sits up abruptly, pushing me and the blankets away. There is work to be done, he says hoarsely. The Death Knight has been destroyed, but there is still the Lich King to deal with.
I do not tell him that the two have become one. I do not tell him that he failed. It would not matter if I did. He will not believe me.
The madness has returned.
Illidan…
The morning will come
In the press of every kiss
With your head upon my chest
Where I will annoy you
With every waking breath
Until you decide to wake up
I can only watch helplessly as he stumbles in the darkness, holding onto the wall desperately for support. I take hold of his arm as gently as I can.
Still, he jerks in alarm before he realizes its me.
Kael is standing at the door. Our eyes meet and he assures me silently that he will take over from here. His feelings are only of loyalty and debt; he is better suited to help Illidan around the crumbling fortress and take the brunt of his madness.
Madness I am all to familiar with.
Why do you stay?
The unspoken question.
Why do you love him?
I can't help but notice that behind the questions and concerns, his eyes have started to become distant and cool. He stares back at me silently as Illidan raves. There is a flicker of something in his eyes, something like desperation, something I am all too familiar with seeing, and in a moment it is gone. He nods at me and follows Illidan out, leaving me alone, confused and feeling no better than when Illidan was in the coma.
Overconfident in my solitude, I fall to the floor, coiling around my self and sobbing. I never loved Azshara - idolized, worshiped, but never loved. Her madness did not sting so much. This hurts a thousand times more than drowning.
It is only when I feel the withered hand of the sage upon my shoulder that I pull my self up.
That accursed woman is guarded by another, at least for now. We cannot afford to have it any other way.
Akama moves slowly, silently, remaking the bed and gathering the empty vials from the table. I help him, cradling the water basin in my arms, watching it ripple as my tears fall into it. With a final look at the makeshift sickroom to make sure that everything is in order for the next time, the Draenai and I leave, taking a different path than Kael and Illidan. This path is clearer, easier for a half-serpent and an ancient sage to navigate. The cold air of Draenor hits me as we reach the surface of the citadel. I empty the basin and follow him to his hut, watching as he prepares more herbs. When he is finished he smiles a reassuring, toothy smile and sits by his fire to meditate, seeking out new pathways through the spirit world that lies so closely alongside the realms of nightmares and dreams.
Why do his smiles never reach his eye?
I retreat into my own thoughts, preparing myself for the next time.
The morning will come
In the press of every kiss
With your head upon my chest
Where I will annoy you
With every waking breath
'Til you decide to wake up
There is an unspoken agreement among the three of us. Roles we each took willingly and instinctively, without needing to ask one another.
Akama is here to pull Illidan out of the darkness when the Nightmare strikes.
Kael is here to hold him up when the madness claims him.
And I…I am here to catch him whenever he falls.
I rest my elbows on my coils, my chin in my hands as I watch the fire dance. I have dealt with madness. I have dealt with nightmares. I have never dealt with love.
But I know that I can.
It is a selfish thought, but as our roles return to those of our first meeting, I can't help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, I am here to save him.
I smile.
I remember when I first saw him…