Author's Note: Dorian meets Sara/Llirra and Cal has to stop their fighting. VERY slight dragon/worgen romance hinted at. You don't have to read Fallen Hero to understand Wanhope's PoV, but it helps and explains a lot. I interpret Deathwing as being both Deathwing and Neltharion, but Deathwing keeps the Neltharion part of his mind separate from the Deathwing part. In a way, Neltharion WANTS to redeem himself, but Deathwing is too powerful and keeps him on a tight leash, just so people understand that Deathwing does not have multiple personality disorder. Think of it as Deathwing possessing Neltharion, not Neltharion as having been corrupted. I guess you could say its AU. Nel/Al's interaction and love is NOT incest. It is merely an extremely old and powerful sibling bond, so don't interpret it as incest.
Shadow of My Wings
Ch 3.
After much arguing and almost getting burned to death by the dragon's angry snorts, Llirra and Sarantha sullenly agreed to ride to Stormwind with him, but did not yet agree to work with 'an alliance coward' even when he told them it was the priest they fought with against Deathwing the first time. Sarantha had said he was a coward because he refused to fight, and instead stood in the back and healed. She claimed she had no need of an alliance pig's healing and could do it on her own or with Llirra healing, even though she was protection and preferred to be on the front lines, drawing her enemies to her instead of in the back waving her hands and glowing like a squishy mage or priest. Cal sighed. At least they had agreed to come...that was something.
In Stormwind, Dorian aka Wanhope, sat in the corner of the grassy area near the lake where the portals to all the realms unearthed by the Cataclysm were, grooming his white drake, Zeridormi. She complained when he picked at a scale, though it was necessary to keep her brilliant white scales clean. She protested that she did not get as dirty as he claimed. "Zeri, you're white. White attracts dirt! Look at my robes! They're white. They were filthy before I found a mage to clean them with a few water spells."
Zeridormi snorted and gave him a look. You use mages to clean your robes now? How not nice! She flipped her tail up at him and dove in the water. I'll clean myself, thank you. Mage-abuser! She wacked the water with her tail, soaking Wanhope. The priest sighed. Dragons. Why were they so snooty sometimes?
After going to Hyjal and beyond, and not finding a cure for his curse, he had given up and just went back to Stormwind, intending to live out the rest of his days in relative peace. It made him wonder just how many days he actually had...being turned into a worgen had seemed to reverse some of the aging process and he looked a lot younger than he had before the transformation. His hair and beard were completely free of grey, as they had not been before being afflicted with the curse. Were Worgen immortal or just very long lived? He knew King Greymane had to be in his late seventies, but he appeared no older than Wanhope himself, just a little greyer. Greymane also fought with strength and tenacity that no man of his age could hope to fight with. The worgen curse did indeed have some benefits. Even if he were immortal, or just long-lived now, it didn't matter to him. He had no mortal friends. His only friend was Zeri. She herself, being a dragon, was immortal. At least he would get to live out his unnaturally long life with her at his side.
MASTER! Intruders! Zeri lept from the water, standing in front of Wanhope, puffing up her wings in an attempt to look more threatening. She sniffed the air. I smell orc and blood elf! And...red dragon? Master, look to the skies! Zeri tilted her head up, using her tail to gesture for the priest to also look up. A huge red dragon was descending from the skies. He far dwarfed Zeri. Despite her small size, she still stood in front her best friend and master, ready to give her life if need be. She growled and puffed her wings a bit more. She possessed no breath weapon, so her claws and wings were her only defense.
Wanhope wasn't about to let his dear friend be hurt. Obviously, this had something to do with him. He recognized the red dragon as Caelestrasz, the one from the time he had fought Deathwing with two horde members. The scars on the dragon's side made him easily recognizable.
"Caelestrasz, what is the meaning of this? You bring horde to Stormwind? You risk their deaths and your own! King Varian...if he found out, I don't think anything could keep him from killing you, even though you are a dragon and a mage. You know his feelings toward the horde. Even two obvious weaklings like these." Wanhope sneered a bit.
It occurred to Cal that his priest was a bit of a snob. The dragon stopped hovering and landed. The orc and blood elf immediately dropped to the ground. The blood elf was holding her stomach and looked as she were about to vomit. The orc looked ready to murder the priest.
"Weakling, you call me? YOU are the weakling, alliance pig! You didn't even fight when we were face to face with Death itself! You just stood in the back and waved your hands around!"
"Filthy orc liar! I kept YOU from being Deathwing's lunch, both of you. The least you could do is thank me instead of insult me!"
"You want a fight, little human, you've got one!" The orc drew her bow and knocked it back, and fired.
Wanhope had no choice. He changed. Bones shifting and changing in the blink of an eye. The arrow barely nicked him, instead flying harmlessly through his thick fur. He growled at the orc and lunged, only to be knocked back by a small arcane blast spell.
"Stop this at once! I was sent by the Queen of All Life! She sent me for you three in particular! If I let you kill one another, she will not hesitate to punish me. Mother's punishment's are not kind, though she hates when she has to deal them out." A high elf mage, with brilliant blue eyes stood where the giant red dragon had been moments before. A soft hand steadied Wanhope as he assumed human form again, the arcane blast knocking a bit of the fight out of him. A beautiful woman with stark white hair and yellow-gold eyes stood next to him, steadying him. He blinked, stupefied. "Z-Zeri? Is that YOU? I've never seen your human form before. I never even knew you COULD become human!"
After all these years, his drake had finally decided to show her human form to him. He felt a bit betrayed. Zeri actually shook her head, denying this. "My love...I only now acquired the ability to become human. Perhaps it is because I am in the presence of one of the Life Mother's children. Her power extends further than any can know. Or perhaps it is simply because I am growing up." The white haired woman smiled at him. He was awestruck by her beauty. He couldn't believe this was the same being he rode around on for years. The woman reached over and slightly cuffed the bottom of his chin.
"I believe you're drooling a bit, master." She smiled as she said this, so she was obviously not offended or didn't understand that it was HER he was drooling over, not left over spittle from his almost-fight with the orc. Zeri turned to Cal.
"Son of the Life Queen...you honor us with your presence...but may I ask what you want with my master?"
Cal stroked Zeri's soft white hair, soothing her, but infuriating Wanhope. "Little one, I am here because Mother commands it. Your master has an important part to play. That is, IF he can control himself enough to work with these two. A paladin of the Light, Llirra of Silvermoon, and a huntress, Sarantha of Orgrimmar. They are indeed Horde, but you fought Deathwing together. Perhaps together, we can again fight him, only this time, defeat him. Will you come...Dorian of Stormwind?"
"My name isn't Dorian anymore. My name is Wanhope. But...if Zeri trusts you, then I guess I should as well. I would assume the next stop is Wyrmrest Temple? Certainly Alexstrasza doesn't expect us to just find Deathwing and vanquish him, if we even can."
If occurred to Cal once again that Dorian was a snob. If he had a tail in his elf form, it would have twitched in irritation. "Yes. The Life Queen insist upon an audience. Come. I will create a portal taking us directly to Wyrmrest. That way, you have less of a chance to try and kill the horde members."
Llirra was silenty mouthing thank you to the dragon. She had NOT taken well to dragonflight and still felt queasy. During her travels, she normally rode a smooth-flying windrider, not a bumpy, hugeass dragon. Sarantha had only faired slightly better, likely due to her interaction with, and acquisition of, a Netherwing dragon companion. The dragon usually kept to Shadowmoon, but would come when she called him. She still preferred to ride her own form of transportation, a goblin-made rocket, a two seater. She occasionally flew Llirra around in it when they traveled. Apparently they now had to put up with a werewolf along with an ornery red drake. This was not going well at all.
On the other side of the world, Deathwing was once again resting, attempting to assuage the pain of the loosening plates. He'd managed to torture a dwarf smith into tightening a few to lessen the pain, but had to execute the dwarf when he'd found out he had also been loosening plates here and there. Stupid little mortal...thought he wouldn't get caught. Deathwing was the Aspect of Death! No mortal could hide anything from him. He'd let the dwarf live until he had started to pretend to tighten the plates, only to loosen them further, not believing the Death Aspect would notice. How stupid these mortals thought dragons were. Beasts, some called his kind. They were the beasts. Soft, fleshy bodies, constantly bickering and fighting...unable to even come together in the face of death itself.
Deathwing snorted, letting a large jet of flame torch the trees in Desolace, the area he had found himself flying over. Surely his sister, beloved little Alexstrasza, was gathering a posse of good-will agents to try and kill him again. Deathwing certainly loved a good jest. Any mortals Alexa sent his way would simply be killed. She would have even more deaths on her pretty little head. Sure, she moaned and cried about the deaths she caused, but inside, he knew she reveled in it. For Life could not exist without Death, and if there were no Death, she wouldn't be the Life-binder, for their would be no life left on Azeroth. Yes, unknowingly, Alexa was making him more powerful with each adventurer she sent to their deaths. Deathwing noticed the temperature change, almost suddenly. He had been flying further and longer than he'd thought, caught up in his own thoughts.
Northrend.
Home to the vile Lich King, his stinking undead scourge, and...Wyrmrest and his sister. Deathwing would have smiled were dragons capable of it. He would pay her a visit. She would enjoy it, no matter how she protested and told him he was profaning holy ground. It was true that he could not harm her while she remained in the holy temple of Wyrmrest, but it wasn't her body he wished to harm, simply her mind.
Flying over Borean Tundra, terrifying a few gnomes and Taunka, but not wasting time on torching them, he made his way to Dragonblight. The vile scourge had profaned dragon holy ground. He briefly recalled his old identity and self as he flew over the holy land, being so desecrated as it was by the undead. Neltharion shook himself. What have I become? Why have I done this? Alexstrasza is my most dear of sisters...I would never hurt her...Deathwing swiftly pushed Neltharion to the back of his mind, not wishing his old self to intrude on his new goals. Neltharion, while still occasionally surfacing from time to time, was not powerful enough to overtake Deathwing. It was only this place that had given him a tiny moment's ability to break through Deathwing's mental walls.
The spires of Wyrmrest came into view. Blue and red dragons and drakes closed in on him as he approached, but did not show signs of attacking. Of course, they couldn't, as long as they remained within the spires of the temple. Deathwing touched down, assuming human form as he entered the walls of the temple. Agony assaulted his senses.
The holy ground of Wyrmrest did not want him here. It thought him profane, a vile dragon corrupted by darkness and not worthy of the Wyrmrest. Galakrond, that ancient wyrm that had been the progenitor of all dragons, perhaps it was his spirit that kept Wyrmrest a holy ground, even in the face of scourge invasion. Deathwing let a little of Neltharion seep through the walls he'd worked so hard to build. The pain subsided a bit as the temple seemed to recognize the Earth-Warder, not the Aspect of Death. Still, it remained as a slight throb, as if showing it did not fully trust that he was the Earth-Warder.
If only the temple knew the truth...of course, it WAS just a piece of metal and incapable of thinking on its own. It acted on a deeper level. A spiritual level that Neltharion had never understood, but apparently Alexstrasza had. She had attempted to explain it to him, but it had flown right over his head and he'd snorted at her and said she was full of it, basically. They had both laughed at that. Mental anguish now assaulted Neltharion.
He longed for the days of old, when he and his siblings had fought side by side, protecting the world the Titans had charged them with...but this monster inside him made sure he would never again fight at the side of his sister. Deathwing once again forcibly pushed Neltharion behind the walls a bit more, so that his thoughts would not affect Deathwing's amusement when he faced his sister.
The metal plates made loud, harsh clicking noises as Deathwing strode across the floor of the temple, toward his sister, who lay sleeping on a soft mat, attended by red drakes in high elf form who eyed him suspiciously, but didn't make a move to stop him, knowing that if he attempted violence within the temple he would be expelled by that ancient, unstoppable spiritual force that even the Aspect of Death stood no chance against. A dragon he recognized as Alexstrasza's latest fuck, Krasus, stepped into his path.
"What business do you have here, traitor? Leave my Queen be. She is exhausted in mind and body and does not need to see the likes of your ugly face." Careful not to be too violent, so as to awaken the temple's guardian spirit, he shoved Krasus aside and approached the Queen of Life. She was seemingly whispering in her sleep.
"Neltharion...Neltharion...come back to me. This isn't you..." She trailed off and opened her wide silver-gold eyes. They widened at the sight of Deathwing. She rolled over and shot up. "You! Begone from this holy place! I am surprised Galakrond even tolerates your presence. You should be writhing in agony."
Deathwing let a feral grin spread his face. Serrated teeth shocking even Alexstrasza. "My dear sister...I thought you would be happy to see your brother on this holy ground again. For if the great and powerful spirit of marble and metal allows me inside, surely I cannot be evil!" Alexstrasza narrowed her eyes at him. He did, indeed, have a point. How did he enter the temple without being punted out by the spiritual forces that guarded it?
Deathwing laughed at the confusion on his sister's face. "No, dearest, I merely let a little bit of your brother out. Neltharion is wailing in here, you know. He can't stand to see you in such pain. Poor fellow seems quite unbalanced." Deathwing laughed again.
"You! Deathwing! Begone from my temple! I will not ask again." Her eyes had begun to glow, brighter than before.
"Sister, sister, sister...you know you can't hurt me here. You may be the Queen of Dragons, but you are not the guardian of this temple."
"Try me. I dare you." She almost seemed to glow with the ancient wyrm's power. Deathwing could feel it radiating from her being. The ancient, NEUTRAL, wyrm had sided with the Life-Binder, then. This world had been theirs once. Dragons. No foul mortals to profane it. He realized he was backing away in the face of her, no Galakrond's, power.
She was no longer Alexstrasza, but the ancient father of all dragons. Not even the Aspect of Death would stand a chance against her now. He noticed Krasus was standing there gaping. Stupid little red. Deathwing sneered.
"Would you slay me then, little sister? Or, should I say, Galakrond? If it is indeed you giving the power to my sister. Dragonkind once ruled this world. Without mortals. Remember, great wyrm. Remember our ancient power. It was from you that we were created! From you that the might of the dragon came!" Deathwing was grasping at straws, trying to stall the advancing form of his sister.
When she spoke next, it was her voice, and not her voice. A mixture of his sister's voice and a power so ancient that it was possible it even predated the Titans, their creators. "BE GONE FROM THIS HOLY PLACE, WORLD-BREAKER!" A deafening thunderclap sent Deathwing to his knees, and he knew no more.
Neltharion was gasping for breath. What...what had happened here? He remembered Deathwing, threatening his sister, something about their ancient father, and then..here he was, on the floor of the temple, his sister standing above him, eyes blazing with ancient power. The great wyrm's spirit...possessing Alexstrasza. Of course. Galakrond was more powerful than even Deathwing. When she had told him to be gone, Deathwing had fled, behind his own mental barriers that he had erected to keep Neltharion in check.
"I...sister...what is this? It is I, your brother, Neltharion! Believe me, sister!" Alexstrasza stopped her advancement toward him, seemingly sensing that it WAS her brother and not Deathwing inside the metal shell. The power left her body, seemingly feeling no more threat to his greatest of children. The Life-Binder stepped back.
"No...no. You can't be. You are not Neltharion. You are Deathwing, the Destroyer! You..you are just pretending! Neltharion is dead! Go away! Go away and leave me alone! I will have your head on a pike in the end, Dark One, but today is not that day, nor is this the place." Tears were streaming down her pale face as she said this.
She desperately wished that it really WAS Neltharion that knelt before her, but it wasn't. It was Deathwing, acting as her brother. Those hideous metal plates engulfing his once-handsome face...it could NOT be her brother. And yet, even as she spoke...she sensed that air of familiarity, of closeness...a bond she hadn't felt since Neltharion had become Deathwing.
"No...please no. Titans, no. Do not do this to me. My brother lives, but is trapped within the shell that is known as Deathwing? It cannot be true. All this time...all this time and he could have been freed? Redeemed? Why was I not told? Titans! Mother! Answer me! I plead with you!" Alexstrasza received no answer. The Titans were gone. Long gone, and had been for a very long time. Alex dropped to her knees and wrapped her brother in a tight, nearly rib-cracking hug, ignoring the nicks that sharp metal plates left on her arms.
"Neltharion...Neltharion my love. I promise. I will find a way to free you. I will redeem you. I won't let you suffer in his mind forever." Neltharion held his sister as tight as she held him. The power of the ancient spirit still seemed to be holding Deathwing at bay, but it wouldn't last forever. The Destroyer would break free, and he would be back in his mind-cage. He only wanted to stay here, in the arms of his beloved sister, forever.
"Alexstrasza...I cannot stay here. Even now, he beats at the walls in my head. He fights to be free. I cannot hold him in check forever. He is more powerful than I. Only the power of this place keeps him from taking me over completely. I have to leave now. Please believe me. I, Neltharion the Earth-Warder, love you, Alexstrasza. Now and always. I am your brother. I will be your brother until the day they kill me. The mortals. I know I can't be redeemed. I can't be freed. There is no body left for me. This body is in tatters. It barely holds my soul as it is. Beloved sister, remember me with love, not hate. That is all I ask." Neltharion shuddered, his body collapsing to the ground.
Alexstrasza wept over the unconscious body of her brother, holding him, willing him to wake and be Neltharion again. Just that mere moment of conversation with her brother hadn't been enough. Not nearly enough. She WOULD free him. She WOULD heal his body. Somehow, she and the mortals would find a way. She had been wrong for one of the first times in her life. Neltharion WAS redeemable.
She was still weeping as Deathwing retook control of his body and fled the temple before Neltharion asserted control again.