Title: The Forsaken
Author: Link Worshiper
Pairings: 1=2, maybe some others if I feel like it
Rating: PG-13
Stuff: Fantasy AU, fluff, sap, language, adventure, WoW nerdiness
Disclaimer: I own Gundam Wing action figures? Warcraft and its lore belongs to Blizzard Entertainment. Both things are being played with out of fangirl love.

Thanks to danse and Natea for the once over. Despite the fact this is part of Natea's birthday present, I still needed her to fill me in on the Alliance history they don't teach us on Horde, so thanks for that also =P

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Part VII
Waning Starlight

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Far across the ocean, on the edge of the continent of Kalimdor, was the rainy island of Theramore. Protected by jagged rocks in the surrounding bay and the perilous marshlands that separated it from the mainland, Theramore was a refuge for those who had fled Lordaeron when the threat of the Lich King's Scourge had begun to manifest, and it was there that Relena Proudmoore had established a new home for the Alliance far away from his grasp. Theramore was by no means as glorious as the old kingdom of Lordaeron had been, but it was thankfully still thriving, despite all odds, and those that lived there all did their part to revitalize the life they had left behind.

Today, the first day of the month, Relena and her assembly of advisers were hosting audiences with any citizens who wished to speak candidly with their leaders about their needs and concerns. It was an old royal tradition the Kushrenadas of Lordaeron had upheld when they had ruled their eastern homelands, and Relena recalled sitting in on many such audiences with fondness. She had been particular friends with Prince Treize Kushrenada before his fall from grace, and she knew she mostly kept such traditions in place in honour of the king she once thought he might have been.

Unfortunately, Relena was in low spirits that day, perhaps because of some troubling news she had heard from Stormwind about one of the royal guilds disappearing, and it left her with little patience for listening to the grievances of others. She sorely wished that her chief advisor, the high priest, Quatre, had been there, and then got to wondering where he might have gone.

"M'lady, what do you think?"

Relena startled from her thoughts, unwillfully returning to the moment at hand. A nobleman she recognized as one of Theramore's richest merchants stood before her, his entire demeanor that of one who was awaiting an answer. She shook her head, desperately hoping to recall something of what he had said, but found the only thing she could remember was the question of Quatre's whereabouts. Smoothing her white and lavender robes, she cleared her throat and congenially asked him to repeat himself.

The merchant seemed vaguely annoyed but at least had the sense to know his place. "About the trade routes," he intoned sharply. "I think we should establish more permanent bases between here and Ashenvale. It would increase our ability to shuttle goods to Astranaar. As it stands, our presence in Kalimdor is hardly-"

Suddenly, everything the merchant had been prattling on about returned to Relena and she straightened in an effort to look more imposing, despite her small stature. "Absolutely not," she declared before the merchant had a chance to finish. "Such a foolish thing would only do to upset the Horde settlements in the Barrens and Durotar. I will not allow this city-state to fall victim to the same pettiness that infects Stormwind." Her opinion on the matter was perhaps unpopular, but it was firm.

The merchant scowled, clearly not pleased with being denied his request. Contemptuously, he spat, "You would change your mind when orcs overrun and destroy us as they did Stormwind all those years ago. They are brutal animals that must be exterminated if we are to maintain our way of life." Then he turned abruptly on his heel and left for the door, pushing his way the murmuring crowd gathered in the audience chamber.

"Maybe our way of life is wrong!" Relena called after him angrily even though he was far from hearing her. She covered half her face with a dainty hand and slumped into the oversized throne with another frustrated sigh. It was this exhausted action that gave one of Relena's advisers the cue to step forward and announce that the audiences were over for the day. A low grumble rose from those who had not had the chance to speak yet, but they all obeyed the order to leave nonetheless. Soon, the audience chamber was thankfully quiet and empty, and Relena let out a much more relieved breath of air.

The adviser who had spoken for Relena was a purple-haired paladin by the name of Lucretzia Noin, and was another one of Relena's main confidants. Garbed in silver armour and a navy cloak, she stood straightly beside Relena's chair and spoke with the balanced air of one who had trained for the Order of the Silver Hand. "Too much for you to handle today, m'lady?" she asked.

"I guess I never appreciated how much I relied on Quatre's presence for such things," Relena admitted, glancing over at her friend. "After cousin Milliardo's news from Stormwind about the loss of his prized guild of rogues, I have found myself rather distracted."

A wry grin twisted Noin's face as she commented, "Ah, is that not the guild that Quatre's good friend belongs to? Oh, what was his name...?"

"Heero," Relena interjected automatically.

"Mm, how could I forget?" Noin continued smoothly, not bothering to mask the teasing in her voice anymore. "You are so very fond of him...."

"Lucretzia, please! I barely know him!" Relena exclaimed, her face burning so red, it clashed violently with her dark blond hair and lavender cloak. Though she knew Noin didn't mean anything by what she had said, it was still embarrassing all the same to have any attention drawn to the eyes she had for Quatre's best friend. She had only briefly met him a few times, and long ago at that, but there had been something about him that struck her. She supposed it was that mysterious air he seemed to exude so naturally; in the very least, it made her curious to know more about him. Frankly, however, it was the knowledge that someone who was reputed to be as adept a fighter as he was had gone missing that distressed her the most, and it left her wondering what mischief was afoot.

"Anyway, I think I'll retire to my study for the afternoon," Relena announced, pointedly ignoring the way Noin was smirking at her. She pushed herself out of the ridiculously large throne tradition insisted upon for whenever she was receiving an audience and started for the private staircase that led to her personal quarters at the top of the tower. She was actually quite eager to spend some time alone with her books; it was so rare that she was able to catch a moment to herself that she reveled deeply in them whenever they came along. If she could have it her own way, she would have stayed lost in the libraries at Dalaran her whole life.

She was nearly to the top of the stairs when a commotion from outside sent her scurrying back down a few steps to the window she had just passed. Peering through the thick glass, her shoulders sagged at this newest disruption, which, though not entirely unwelcome, certainly had chosen an ill time to manifest. Tapping her foot anxiously for a few moments, she closed her eyes, channeling the magical energies she commanded as a mage, and then conjured a portal to teleport herself instantaneously from the castle keep to the front gate.

In a burst of purple and green, Relena popped out at the main gate, where soldiers and townsfolk alike were hassling the pair of visitors that was being held up on the main bridge. The two outsiders, a pair of orcs - no one less than the Warchief Thrall and his right hand commander - had expected trouble on their errand today, and patiently waited for Relena to arrive and speak on their behalf. Or rather, Warchief Thrall waited patiently for his friend; Wufei Hellscream, on the other hand, was another matter altogether.

"How dare you summon your entire army against only two of us?" Wufei snarled, a thick vein pulsating on his forehead. Though he still possessed the heavy-set features common in their race, Wufei was smaller and lither than most orcs, and his skin was the unnatural red hue of the orcs that had once been tainted by fel magics. His black hair was pulled into a tight ponytail behind his head, and his scowling lips were curled wide by the large pair of tusks that extended from his lower set of teeth. But the son of a great orc hero, Wufei made up for his unnatural appearances with combat skills that ranked him as one of the greatest warriors of Orgrimmar and a temper to match. Still aggrieved by the Alliance soldiers, he continued, "I dare you to lay a hand on either of us, pithy human! I will take down this entire lot of cowards myself!"

Thrall was holding his hand out, barring Wufei from making any advances, his face the very picture of embarrassment as Relena approached. "I am sorry for coming unannounced," Thrall began, his voice more deep and gravelly than any human's could ever hope to be. "But some of my scouts returned to me heralding troubling news and I could not wait to speak of it. I think it is something that concerns all of us." His face was grim, as was usually his way, but there was something about the way the warchief carried himself that was almost regal despite his imposing appearance.

Relena knew that her afternoon of reading would have to wait if Thrall would personally come all the way from Durotar to tell her such things. She abruptly ordered the soldiers to fall back and the townsfolk to return to their daily errands before beckoning Thrall and Wufei to follow her to the city's main keep. Walking next to Thrall, who was at least twice her size and far more girthed than any human, was a somewhat humbling experience, but her familiarity with the orc kept her from feeling any fear. They had grown to share an alliance of sorts, and had helped each other out of various situations not only for the common good, but because of the depth of their friendship. Rather, it was the presence of Wufei Hellscream that added a bit of uncertainty to Relena's gait that day: she had met him once or twice, but the clarity with which he detested humans was enough of a reminder as to why the Horde and the Alliance still had a long way to go before they could ever truly be allies. It was only Thrall's trust in him that she allowed him to enter Theramore at all.

She led them to her private study and closed the door, knowing that she could easily teleport out of harm's way should Wufei do something that made her feel uncomfortable. Settling down at her desk, she invited the two orcs to sit on nearby chairs, but they both refused, preferring to stand like proud warriors. Not wasting any more time with pleasantries, she quickly cut down to business: "So what is this news you bring me, friend?" she asked, addressing Thrall.

Thrall let out a low grunt, tossing his head. "I am almost certain that a dangerous relic that was once in the possession of the Horde has been stolen," he announced without any fanfare. He stroked one of the thick braids in his long, black beard, frowning at the very suggestion of it. "It is not an easy thing to do - I saw to the division and distribution of this relic amongst the leaders of the Horde myself - but each and every piece has vanished from under our noses. I just received word this morning that the fragment I had entrusted to Lady Catalonia has been taken." Another low grunt escaped Thrall's lips as he added, "This is coming mere days after the report that the piece belonging to Silvermoon disappeared."

Relena pursed her lips, folding her hands tightly on her lap. "And I shall assume that you have also lost pieces of this relic that were stored in Thunderbluff, Orgrimmar and Sen'jin?" she queried. "How did this not trigger any warning bells earlier?"

Surprisingly, it was Wufei who interjected next: "That is exactly what I said!" he snapped testily. Shooting Relena a sharp glare, he snorted derisively at her, "It is a sad day when even a human - a female no less - can show more sense than the lord of the mighty Horde."

Thrall growled menacingly at Wufei, and Relena tried her best to remain cordial. By means of explanation, Thrall said, "When the one held in Orgrimmar vanished, I bade the blood elves and the Forsaken to hide their pieces of this evil artifact more dutifully. But that they, too, are now gone, I can only imagine it is the work of scheming thieves, and clever ones at that."

Flexing her hands, Relena lifted a curled finger to her chin, pondering the matter further. Such a calculated series of burglaries seemed like it could only be the work of a highly skilled pack of rogues, which instantly reminded her of the missing Stormwind guild. She wasn't sure if this was something she should divulge to Thrall just yet, especially with Wufei there, but it was definitely worth keeping track of. In lieu of that information, she instead said, "What gives you cause to bring this to me only now?"

"Even with only four of the five pieces, the sigil is useless," Thrall explained. "The matter was not dire until I heard the final fragment was taken."

"And what will happen if this sigil is reforged?" Relena was keen to ask.

"I fear it already has been," said Thrall morosely. "If that is so, then a great dreadlord of the Burning Legion has found some unfortunate soul to feed on until it can regain its full power.

"And then?" she pressed, already fairly certain of where this tale was heading.

Thrall never got a chance to respond, because it was then that Wufei interjected again. "We will be mere pebbles underfoot as it trounces across Azeroth, searching for a way to steal the Lich King's power!" he cried, clenching his fists tightly. "The fool that besot this upon us should be unmanned - and the one bearing the sigil, dispatched before he unwittingly sends us all to our end!"

Relena paled, finding the situation all too similar to the one that had brought Treize to his end, suddenly fearing what Heero's involvement in all this might be. She wished she could come up with an immediate solution, but she knew it was something she would have to mull over. Unfortunately, she realized, time wasn't exactly a luxury anyone could bear too afford.

So, as she sat there struggling with the weight of all these things, it was almost fortunate when the study door burst open and Quatre came stumbling in, frazzled. He was babbling about needing her mage powers for some important task or other, so she quickly excused herself to help him. Her head pounded at this sudden assault of dark knowledge, wondering what there was to be done. She only wished she knew more.

Before it was too late.

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A sudden Arathi rainstorm sent Heero, Duo, Trowa and Heavypaw scattering for shelter beneath a large outcropping of rock. The sun, though hidden behind the horizon, still emanated a brilliant orange glow that bled out from behind the gray clouds, though it hardly did much for illumination in the torrential downpour. Figuring they might be stuck there for a while yet, Duo took it upon himself to conjure a small campfire they could warm themselves by while they waited out the worst of the storm. The crackling of magical embers whispered beneath the pelt of the rain, only able to thrive because of Duo's mana in the dampness.

Trowa stared blankly at the fire for a few moments as if he were thinking intently. He kept drumming his fingers against his satchel as if he were impatiently waiting for something, though there was something in his demeanor that suggested it wasn't the passing of the rain. Heavypaw lay nearby, his tail idly flicking back and forth in a hapless way that completely countered the demeanor of his master, which only seemed to irritate Trowa further. At last, he abruptly stood as best he could underneath the rock outcropping, announcing plainly, "I'm going to find something to eat." He shouldered his bow as if to make his statement more definite.

"You'll drown out there," said Duo, who was lounging against the craggy wall where the overhanging boulder met the hillside. Warm and cold made no difference to him, but water never agreed with him well.

Trowa just stared back at Duo, offering him a look that seemed to crackle with a fire of its own. "Then it is fortunate I am already soaked," he intoned dismissively. Then, with a flourish of his cloak, he vanished into the rain like some kind of apparition with Heavypaw at his heels.

Heero, who was huddled as close to the fire as he could get, surreptitiously tracked Trowa's movements until he had gone and then turned his attention back to the flame, albeit with the same contemplative air Trowa had possessed earlier. At length, he lifted his chin and asked Duo, "Is he always like that, or is it a show for the likes of me?" His tone sounded a little bitter, like he didn't appreciate Trowa's unnecessary disdain.

Duo cocked his head, clearly not expecting to be asked such a question. "A little of both, perhaps," he answered congenially. He eyed Heero from behind his ratty bangs, curious: sometimes the things Heero said and did unearthed sentiments that Duo had been certain he'd left behind in life.

Heero grit his teeth, obviously more frustrated by Trowa's demeanor than he'd previously let on. "Faction ties or not, we are venturing together; he has no right to belittle me so," he complained more to the fire than to Duo, hardly taking notice of Asahi, who had come chittering across the floor to comfort Heero with a twitter of his antennae.

"He is the prince of a proud and wrecked race. You can't expect much," Duo said with a shrug, trying hard to make it sound like he was indifferent to the matter, though truth be told, it had been bothering him just as much. He wondered if things might have been playing out differently without Trowa's interference. Things certainly would have felt a lot more even keel between them, Duo thought; Trowa's constant scrutiny could be just as nerve-wracking to Duo as it surely was to Heero.

But Duo's reasoning didn't seem to be enough of a reason to settle Heero's unease. "Yes, but even you at least pretend to tolerate me," Heero pointed out morosely. He leaned a cheek into his hand, glancing down at Asahi, who was still trying hard to get Heero's undivided attention. "Tell me true," he continued, still refusing to meet Duo's eyes, even as he addressed him. "Were it not for this demon's curse, would you have killed me that day I came back into your sight?"

The question caught Duo off guard, and he stiffened, hoping that Heero wouldn't catch his sudden wariness. "It is hard to say," Duo said, his hands spread flat across the ground on either side of him. "As it is, you are of more use to me alive than dead. A champion of the Alliance - do not think your reputation has not proceeded you." He shrugged again, the yellowy light in his eye sockets flickering mysteriously as he added, "I knew who you were the moment I caught you slinking around the Sepulcher that first time. Hearing you speak your own name only confirmed it." His lips curled up into a wry smile that distorted his already skewed face even more. "So, no," he drawled, "I think I might have found an excuse to make some kind of use for you regardless."

"I suppose that is a comfort," Heero groused tightly, though it was hard to tell if he really thought so. His eyes darted across the floor, eventually settling upon Asahi's erratic scuttling beside his boot. "It's a wonder I even lived to see beyond Tarren Mill; for a while, I was beginning to think that I was already dead."

"It must have just been another trick of the demon while you were under his sleeping enchantment," Duo said, his speech returning to its usual pace now that the topic had started to steer back into more neutral territory.

At last, Heero looked up, meeting Duo's empty eyes with an expression of shock. "I was asleep all that time? And you carried me here?" he wondered aloud, clearly not sure he had heard correctly. "Then it really is a wonder I am alive; I would swear that under such circumstances, you'd have left me to die."

Insulted at such an accusation, Duo crossed his arms and turned his nose upwards. "I am not completely without honour, you know. My heart once beat as yours does," he said, offended. Then he bore his ghastly stare straight through Heero's heart: "When I kill you, you will know it, for I will raise my blade to your face and cut your throat while you are watching, understand?"

Once again, his tone was serious, but Heero wasn't sure he could take comfort in his words this time. Heero quickly dropped his attention back to Asahi, who was ignorant of all the strange energy crackling between them. Despite Duo's claim that he still reserved certain qualities he'd maintained in life, Heero wondered how much death had really changed the warlock. He shifted uncomfortably, not sure what to think about in order to settle his racing nerves.

"If you are tired, sleep some more - I won't hurt you," Duo said after watching Heero grow more restless with each passing moment. "You may think me a monster, but take solace in the knowledge that the monster that resides within you is a far more fearsome beast." He chuckled darkly and folded his hands behind his head as he leaned back against the rock face. "It is perhaps even ironic to note that what plagues you is also what has saved you."

Heero frowned at the fire as he rolled Duo's words around in his head, contemplating them fiercely. Such words did not bode well with his conscience or his duty to the Alliance. But more puzzling, still, was Duo's intent with him; he found the notion of it just as troublesome as the idea that the demon sigil had transformed him into something sinister. His natural inclination was to ask Duo directly, but he had a suspicion that the mysterious warlock would only clam up and avoid telling him anything further.

Duo, meanwhile, had found entertainment in watching Heero in a way that was almost voyeuristic. "You wear your thoughts on your face, human," he said, intrigued by the despair ingrained into Heero's features. "Share them with me."

Heero jolted like he meant to turn his eyes back towards Duo, but he forcibly kept them focused on the embers, his stern brow knit. He frowned, not keen to explain his anguish, and deliberated over whether or not he should acknowledge Duo's command at all. At last, he relented and sighed, "For the life of me, I cannot discern what my place is in all this." Admitting the fact aloud did not do much to alleviate his troubled thoughts.

The amusement faded from Duo's features as quickly as it had arrived. He readjusted his position, drawing his knees up to rest his forearms across them as he suddenly took interest in the twitching of Asahi's antennae. The question reeked similarly to the comments about destiny Trowa had left him with as they were leaving Hillsbard, and he found such grandeur did not sit well with him. When he answered, Duo spoke slowly and cautiously, as if he were afraid he might slip up and reveal something he did not intend to. "In life, I thought I had been called to do a lot of things - things that were supposed to serve a higher purpose - things that were supposed make a difference," he said, all the while fiddling with a tassel on his sash. "But my failure in all of them left me with the realization that nothing I could ever do would change the course of anything. I still lost the ones I wanted to protect, still lost my home... still died. And everything is still as it was all those years ago." He grit his crooked teeth and balled his mismatched fists in frustration as he bowed his head.

During this admission, Heero had found his eyes drawn back to Duo, his mouth parted in awe at what Duo had just shared. Though it hadn't been much, that resounding human quality he'd noted earlier had been latent in Duo's words, and he found himself oddly moved by it. He almost dared not speak, afraid he might take away from the poignancy of Duo's story.

"Sometimes, all I want," Duo eventually murmured, "is to be home again."

The air Heero was holding in his lungs was becoming stale, but he dared not let it out, even as he gasped softly, "Where is home?" He hardly dared to breathe when he spoke.

"Somewhere," Duo answered, his scratchy voice muffled by the folds of his robes as he looked away. "I don't know."

And for the first time since they'd met, Heero felt like he understood.

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Suffice to say, Trowa's day had not been going well at all.

Their trip to Arathi had been arduous enough, between carrying Heero's unconscious body to one of the summoning circles and then performing the Tauren ritual to speak with the Earthmother and beg for her help. He had nearly strangled Duo when the ritual nearly went awry, even though it wasn't exactly Duo's fault that there was more slumbering beneath the ground than they had assumed. Duo's Tauren chant had somehow managed to also awaken a titan princess that had been imprisoned by the magic of the enchanted stone circles, and her unexpected rampage had thrown Trowa and Duo into a battle they weren't entirely prepared for. Though they managed to fell her, they were so fatigued from the skirmish that it was an hour before Duo had the strength to attempt the ritual again.

Then, if that had not been enough, he was starving and had yet to find anything worth hunting in the downpour, plus the fact that he still had not heard from Quatre, the thought of which only served to make his need for something arcane worsen. Now that he was alone, Trowa was seriously considering a chat with the priest, if only to at least sate himself with the knowledge that something magical would soon be coming his way, for he was not sure how much longer he could stand without anything to calm his need. It made him sorely wish he could be more like Duo, who only required a rare drink of blood every now and again.

Rummaging through the personal pouch he carried, Trowa soon unearthed the owl charm he had used to contact Quatre the first time. He didn't care what sort of promises they had made before; he needed that magical energy immediately. Rubbing his finger across the silver owl, there was a flash of aquamarine energy, and then the hovering light of the communication portal. Inside the glowing window, Quatre looked surprised, though it was uncertain whether that was due to the unexpected communication, or simply seeing Trowa's face once more.

"Your L-Lordship," the priest stammered, wringing his hands beneath the huge, white sleeves of his robe. "I was under the impression I had a little more time before I would hear from you."

Trowa's hand cut through the rain as he flicked it nonchalantly and said, "My misery trumps all else. I need you to help me, and I need for it to be right now." For once, his words were actually in line with how he felt: standing there in the rain, dripping wet, cold and hungry for both food and magic, he didn't even have the wherewithal to make a threat against Heero's wellbeing. Were it not for his long, elfin ears and glowing, green eyes, he might have actually been mistaken for a common human in such a humbled state. Shivering, he sneezed, immediately embarrassed by it.

Meanwhile, Quatre, who was safe and warm in one of Lady Relena's many libraries, was feeling somewhat conflicted. Here he was, at the mercy of a hundred other tasks, when the presumptuous blood elf had interrupted him, demanding his assistance. Quatre's natural instinct was, of course, to help Trowa as best he could, but there was still a part of him that felt a little bitter towards the elf for acting as he had. He thought that it would be Trowa's just desserts to suffer until the agreed upon delivery for the magical item he had yet to enchant, but it was hard for him to go against his nature and deny him the help, even if it was what the Sunbender prince probably deserved.

Sighing, Quatre sat down in a nearby chair, still eyeing the rain-soaked Trowa through the portal. Compromising with himself, he said to the elf, "If you could perhaps grace me with a more kindly entreaty, then I shall do my best to see to your request."

Never one to take orders, Trowa pursed his lips as he forced himself to comply. "It would honour me greatly if you would see to my aid," he groused, looking away. He spoke so low, his words almost were lost beneath the shatter of the falling rain. "Please... anar'alah belore," he murmured desperately, unsure how much longer he could last.

It was that almost inaudible please that struck Quatre the most, moved by Trowa's Thalassian reference to the sun. "Sinu a'manore," he answered reverently. He paused for a moment, glancing at the nearby table and picking up the first object he found lying there, which happened to be an unused quill. Then, rising gracefully, he addressed the waning Trowa: "I'll be but a moment. Please wait."

Trowa's shoulders heaved as he allowed a tiny, grateful smile to tug at his otherwise grim lips. Then, without warning, he suddenly collapsed out of the portal's view, dropping to the ground as if his very soul had been drained from his body.

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[last]
TBC!!

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