Brothers at Long Last
Seated atop his mount, Malfurion Stormrage surveyed the bleak frost-bitten wasteland before. He did not know what had called him to this place, but something was amiss, and it tore at his heart until he set off to investigate the cause of his restlessness. Their boat floated amidst the chilling waters of the snowy land they had come to. The frigid wind pulled at his fur cloak, whipping it about as the howl of death resounded amidst the tall spires of ice. A great battle was taking place.
"What concerns you, my love?" Tyrande moved her great white cat alongside him so that she might look upon him with worried eyes.
Malfurion took a deep breath of the cold air that burned his throat, but he endured it. "Battle has been joined. Blood is thick in the air." The faint hum of weapons meeting and creatures giving painful howls in their dying breaths began to fade. "It is ending."
"Is that what called you here?"
Opening his mouth to answer, a sudden array of images flashed through his mind-- and most of his brother.
Of Illidan.
Of him as a boy, small, frail, with perfect features, lovely blue-violet skin, smooth hair, bright smile, and brilliant green eyes, standing with arms wide as he called and raced to his brother.
Of him as a stubborn teenager who defied all, and yet looked up to his brother with an eagerness to be by his side and in his attention.
Of him as he took on the role of demon hunter for the first time, with a sad expression as his brother snapped angrily at him for his foolishness.
Of him perched on his toes as he hugged his knees to his chest with an empty, abandoned expression, skin pale and faded, surrounded by chains as the barred door to his underground prison slammed shut.
Of him after his transformation upon absorbing the Skull of Gul'dan, an expression of pure hate on his face as he turned away from his brother as he was banished.
Of him with a forlorn, almost longing look on his face as he stood beside Tyrande, a hand on her back as he offered her safely back to his brother and wished for peace between them.
The next image was one that he had never seen-- it must have yet to be-- and thus troubled him greatly. Behind the clanging of blade meeting blade, the image was of his brother fighting some shadow he did not recognize, teeth bared in a feral snarl as he wielded his twin blades with shocking speed and precision.
And then, the image that lasted longer than the others, and quite possibly disturbed him the most in his entire life, of his brother lying in the snow, a large gash across his torso, fingers clawing the ground, clinging to the last fragments of life as his lips moved incoherently.
Malfurion jerked slightly as the images faded as suddenly as they had come, leaving him to stare wide-eyed to the frozen lands before him. He blinked a few times before shutting his eyes tight and putting a hand to his sore forehead.
Tyrande seemed to sense his anxiety. "The call is stronger?"
The druid could merely nod a reply. When he finally could, he opened his eyes again and shook his head took another deep, frigid breath. And then it hit him. The color drained from his face as he murmured but a single word as he pressed his beast forward towards the great spire of ice before him.
"Illidan!"
Filled with nothing but certainty in his purpose, Illidan stood his ground before the deathknight, weapons ready. The forsaken Frozen Throne stood ominously behind him, reminding him of what he must do at all costs. If Arthas gained access to Ice Crown, there would be no stopping him. All life would cease to be. Therefore, the King of the Undead must be stopped in his advance to the Frozen Throne. Illidan took a deep breath of the cold air as the wind ran its playful fingers through his hair.
And then the deathknight charged. Arthas broke into a dead sprint with a grunt, Frostmourne swung high over his head.
Illidan brought one of his blades up and blocked it at the last minute. However, the force of Arthas' blow caught him off-balance. He struggled to keep the knight's blade at bay while the deathknight pressed him down into the snow. As strength returned to his arms, he bared his teeth in a snarl as he swung for Arthas' stomach with his other blade. The warrior dodged, stumbling backwards, but by then Illidan was swinging his next attack and the man could barely block his attacks as he was forced backwards.
Their skill and ferocity were evenly matched-- this would be a battle to remember.
The sense of unrest strengthened as they neared the icy spiral. Malfurion studied the spire for a long stretch of time, the images of Illidan haunting him, until he and Tyrande reached what remained of a great battlefield. The bodies of naga and blood elves alike lay together, their blood staining the snow. Undead ghouls feasted on the corpses while necromancers summoned their remains to fight for their master.
"Illidan's naga" Tyrande muttered, "and the blood elves have joined them."
Malfurion glanced to his right to see in the distance a small base combined of naga and blood elves. He quietly gestured to the base and, moving his steed behind the hills so the undead would not see them, raced towards the base, the Priestess of the Moon following in suit.
As they neared the base, a familiar red-cloaked figure was aiding what remained of his forces care for the wounded. He heaved a heavy sigh and tucked a strand of gold hair behind his long ear as he stood, finished caring for a naga whose arm had been broken, when their approach attracted his attention. He blinked as he recognized the figures drawing near.
"Shan'do Stormrage? Priestess Tyrande?" He said in an exhausted voice worn by the intensity of war, yet his tone reflected some relief.
"Greetings, Prince Kael'thas." Tyrande nodded, slowing her tiger to a halt.
Malfurion likewise stopped his steed, surveying the small outpost. "What has happened?"
"We fight the undead to seize control of and destroy the Frozen Throne." Came a voice from their left. The naga sea witch Vashj slithered up from behind a small group of naga tending to the large gash in a blood elf's abdomen. "However, the undead has gained access to Ice Crown. Lord Illidan set off to stop Arthas from entering."
Illidan slashed tirelessly at the deathknight, realizing that he would have to go at this another way, for Arthas seemed to be catching on and reading his attacks. Unsure as to where he would attack next, but not wanting to be cut down as he planned, unfurled his wings and caught the wind.
The druid felt his heart skip a beat. His brother had gone to stop the King of the Undead. The images of his brother fighting the shadow filled his mind again, the sound of blades connecting ringing in his ears.
Illidan glided backwards, blades poised, as the King of the Undead adjusted his grip on Frostmourne and charged again. A second later he realized his mistake.
Malfurion felt a stinging pain in his chest. "Oh no Illidan!"
The blinding pain of the sword slashing his chest combined with the cold power of Frostmourne, Illidan's numb body falling uselessly to the ground like a puppet whose strings were cut.
I failed
His steed galloped quickly across the snow, Ice Crown growing closer and closer in the horizon as Malfurion pressed it forward faster still. Tyrande pursued him without question, watching the ice spire as they approached.
He just prayed they weren't too late.
The demon hunter lay slumped on his back, staring up at the gray sky as he felt his blood stain the snow. He listened as the crunching of the snow beneath the deathknight's boots faded, the King of the Undead entering the gate to the Frozen Throne.
He couldn't believe it would end like this. He couldn't believe he could fail like that when so much depended on him. He had let down all of creation. But no he couldn't just die now. As the cold began to spread through his limbs-- it wasn't the cold brought on by the snow, though, but something different, which caused his heart to pound in his chest. The cold of death.
Clenching the snow under his hands, as if clinging onto the earth could keep himself from leaving this world, Illidan unconsciously mumbled phrases in elvish until his voice was ragged, when he then began to simply mouth the words. His head rolled to the right slightly and, as his spiritual sight began to fade, he could see amidst the blinding aura of the snow three faint figures materialize.
One, who was apparently being chased by one of the other figures, was an agile young night elf girl with long dark blue hair. Another a well-built-- for a child-- night elf boy with thick light blue hair. And the final, who was chasing the girl, was a lanky young boy-- younger that both the others-- with long, smooth violet hair. The girl made a sharp turn to the left, running far enough away to taunt her pursuer from atop the hill.
"Bet you can't catch me!"
"Just you wait!"
Suddenly the one with light blue hair tackled the younger boy as he was about to lunge, knocking him to the ground. He and the girl both pinned him to the ground and began to tickle him. All three of them began to laugh for their own reasons.
"Hey! No fair! Stop!"
Illidan felt the corners of his mouth curve into a smile as his "vision" faded. In the darkness he heard a voice calling his name.
"Illidan!" Malfurion shouted over the howl of the wind. He could see his brother now, strewn on the snow stained in his own blood. His heart pounded in his chest. His mount quickly approached the limp body that was his brother. The moment it drew within ten feet of him, the druid leapt from the beast's back and ran to his brother's side. "Illidan!"
There came a small moan from his brother's ragged throat. "I-is that you brother?" He coughed slightly, turning his head to face him. "I-I see you."
Malfurion felt his brow furrow. The cold and loss of blood had gotten to him. "Yes."
Illidan gave a weak chuckle. "I I'm sorry. I failed." He coughed. "Arthas he controls the Frozen Throne." He chuckled again, this time it was cut short by a small fit of coughs.
The druid kneeled beside his brother, not knowing what to do. His eyes fell on the large gash stretching from low at the left side of his abdomen to the center of his chest. He felt a small wave of nausea rise up at the pit of his stomach, which he forced back down. He could hear Tyrande stop her tiger behind him and gasp as she dismounted.
"It's funny" Illidan mumbled as he ceased coughing. "It's true I fought him because all life depended on me but" his smirk widened slightly, "underneath it all I knew I just wanted you to appreciate me" he chuckled again. "That's all I ever wanted in everything I did." His chuckles were cut of by more violent coughs. When he recovered, there was a trickle of blood running down his chin from the corner of his mouth. "Isn't it ironic? All of those sacrifices for nothing."
Malfurion couldn't take it anymore. He put a comforting hand on each of Illidan's shoulders, leaning down so he could look down at his brother where his eyes would have been. "No your sacrifices weren't in vain." He fought back tears as a questioning look came over Illidan's weak face. "You are and always will be my brother-- my dear brother."
A smile slowly formed on Illidan's face. If he hadn't been blind, Malfurion was sure his brother would have been crying. Sure enough, his voice began to tremble slightly. "Thank you."
There came a slight sniffling behind him. Out of the corner of the druid's eye, he could see Tyrande standing, a hand over her mouth, tears streaming down her face.
Illidan shook his head slightly, turning it in the direction of the Priestess of the Moon. "Don't cry Tyrande." His smile widened slightly. "I'm not worth your tears. The one who is" he turned his head so he would have been looking at his brother, "won't make you cry."
Malfurion blinked as he leaned back slightly, giving Tyrande more room as she approached the demon hunter's side.
"Illidan" she started.
"You two were meant to be together." Illidan said in a soft voice. "Nothing can change that but neither can that change my feelings."
Tears were running down Tyrande's face again. She shook her head slightly, putting a hand on the demon hunter's shoulder, then leaned down slowly and placed a small kill on his pale lips.
An expression of complete surprise formed on Illidan's face. As Tyrande broke off, he slowly smiled and wiped her tears away with his hand. "Be happy together"
Malfurion's eyes widened as he felt the tension in his brother's arms, which were still clawing the snow, begin to slacken. ""
Illidan sighed heavily, his smile remaining. "I love you both"
"No!" Malfurion leaned forward, grasping Illidan, clinging onto the hope that he could somehow keep his brother with him simply by holding onto him.
But there was no way to hold onto his last breath as it slowly slipped from his cold body. His brother's body went limp beneath him with barely a sound.
The druid shook his head, staring down at the pale blue-violet face as snowflakes slowly began to dust his soft skin. He normally kept his emotions under stern check, but as he looked upon the peaceful smile that was still on his brother's features, the dam shattered. Malfurion felt a cold tear trickle down his cheek as he leaned forward and, scooping up his brother's shoulders in his arms, hugged his brother to his chest. More tears followed in suit as he let out faint sobs and clutched the cold, limp form close to him.
Tyrande began to sob as well, leaning on his right shoulder and crying into his fur cloak, one hand clutching his shoulder and the other Illidan's pale hand.
Malfurion's mournful cries for his beloved brother echoed throughout the frozen spires of Ice Crown.
As the sun slowly began to rise over the snowy hills, Malfurion and Tyrande stood by their mounts and took one last longing look at the resting place of Illidan Stormrage. Then, slowly, they mounted their beasts and rode back towards the shores that would take them home.
The faint figure of a small spindly night elf boy with smooth blue-violet skin, long dark violet hair, and piercing green eyes stood beside the peacefully smiling body, watching the travelers depart. His eyes softened as his mouth curved into the same peaceful smile as the dawn set the sun aglow.
Author's Notes: Hey, for all of you out there wondering, I was inspired to write this little piece right after I finished Frozen Throne. And, as I'm pretty sure you all know, the ending included nothing about the condition of Illidan. It was after I had written it this that I went on the internet and discovered that Illidan's not really dead. So that's my explanation.