eight
"I'm not sure this is such a good idea."
From where she sat at her vanity, Queen Azshara ignored the fretting of her advisor. Xavius was pacing the length of her chambers nervously. The queen was running her fingers through her long blonde hair, occasionally pausing to powder her near-flawless face. She smiled at her reflection once she was finally satisfied, rising to her feet in a quick motion that made her skirts flutter around her toned legs.
"I just think we need to contemplate the consequences," Xavius was still rambling on. "For example, rebellion. Exile. Execution. Just to name a few."
Azshara rolled her bright blue eyes at him. "Relax, darling," she cooed. "You're always so wound up. Everything is going to be taken care of. And you would do well to stop doubting the power of our lord, lest he decides he must prove it to you."
Xavius eyed her carefully. He was honestly starting to question her sanity from time to time. He knew how the guards talked, how they spread the gossip all over the Eternal Palace that the Queen was going out of her mind. Talking to herself, locking herself up in her rooms. Just a few days ago, she had ordered a band of her best soldiers to keep watch over the Well of Eternity as if it might up and vanish as she slept.
Still, he was loyal to her. That was his job. However, it was also his job to advise her, and he intended to do just that. "Your Majesty, I do agree that you are doing what is best for us, and of course your ever-faithful people. I just hope the rest of the people see it that way as well."
Azshara let out a quick laugh at his concerns and turned her back to him, going instead to her overly sized wardrobe. Focusing her attentions on flipping through gossamer fabrics and elegantly designed gowns. Xavius was always getting himself worked up over nothing. Her people loved her, worshipped her practically as much as Elune herself. Whatever she decided to do, they would support her. And if they did not...she would deal with that when it occurred.
The queen realized for the first time since Xavius had come into her chambers that he was no longer ranting at her. She pursed her lips slightly and glanced back over her shoulder to see her advisor clutching onto the post of her bed for support. His eyes were closed, knuckles white as he held himself up. Just as Azshara opened her mouth to ask if he was alright, his eyes snapped open. In place of the usual glowing blue, there was only a fiery red that seemed to sear into her very flesh.
She realized almost immediately whose eyes she was looking into. The Highborne quickly lowered her gaze and fell gracefully to her knees. "My Lord," she murmured with a bowed head. Her tone was demurring, thick with awe. "To what do I owe this great pleasure?"
She heard only the hesitant sounds of footsteps, each one getting closer, louder, shaking the floor under her. Then there were fingers in her tousled blonde hair, forcing her head up, all but lifting her off the ground. Although it was technically the body of her advisor before her, there were really no traces of Xavius left in his face, not with the burning eyes and malicious scowl.
"My patience is wearing thin, Azshara." When he spoke, it was like an earthquake shaking the very foundations of her core. "How much longer?"
The Highborne woman dared to smile at him. Even in this lesser form, possessing the body of Xavius, he was a terrifying and impressive sight. She could hardly fathom how it would be to gaze upon him in all his glory, in his true form, towering before her as she trembled for her master. She could hardly wait for the moment he was unleashed into the world, a whirlwind of flames and terror and greatness. And she would be his queen, the only one worthy, the one that made everything possible for him. She would bring him for all of Azeroth to behold, and together they would watch the world crumble before them.
"Soon, my Lord," she assured him. She could never bring himself to say his name. Perhaps the realness of it all frightened her some. Maybe she didn't think she deserved to say it. "I promise you, by the next moon we will be ready." If he was pleased in the slightest, he didn't express it, just sneered down at her. She realized he still had a tight grip on her hair; no doubt it was ruined now. Not that she minded. Azshara may have been vain and self-empowered, but she was reduced to a slave for him.
"Good," he finally said. When he released her, it was with a slight shove that made her fall back, hands flying out to steady herself. From her crumpled heap on the floor, she watched him stomp away. "We will speak soon, then. At long last, a new era will dawn. My time has finally come."
He did not acknowledge her again, not even a glance over his shoulder. Azshara remained motionless even as Xavius' body fell to the floor, as his eyes snapped open to reveal their normal blue color returned. He was gone, then. But she could still feel his presence lingering, always surrounding her, reminding her that she belonged to him, and he could take her life in a heartbeat if she failed him.
…
Illidan turned the heavy cream envelope over in his hands, examining the extravagant calligraphed scrawl of his name across the front, sealed with the official crest of the Queen. A frown tugged at his brow as curiosity overcame him. Flipping it over, he slid a finger under the edge to tear it open. Inside, there was a thick card embellished with golden spirals twisting down the sides, coiling like snakes.
Illidan Stormrage, it read. You are cordially invited to attend the ball of Her Majesty Queen Azshara of Suramar, at the Eternal Palace on the evening of the Full Moon. Nothing more, nothing less. Her read it twice, just to make sure it was truly made out to him.
Apparently, Illidan had made friends in higher places than he had realized.
Shrugging the matter off, he cast the invitation aside. Though he did recognize that it was an honor to have made such an exclusive guest list, he wasn't the kind to get worked up over something like that. Besides, he had learned his lesson about keeping Maiev waiting; he didn't wish to endure her tears again. He didn't like the feelings it gave him, something close to guilt or remorse.
He made his way to the training area. Now that he was practicing each day with Ravencrest, he had plenty of new things to show Maiev. And Ravencrest had given him a new confidence in his arcane abilities, and he had even opened up to Maiev about that, showing her some of the things he could do. Since it was impossible for her to hide her feelings from him, he could tell she was impressed, her lips parted and her eyes all aglow as she watched the flames twist around his arms.
She was there, of course. Illidan paused before entering the clearing, his body still hidden by the shade of the trees. Once, Maiev would have been sitting in the grass, waiting for his command before she would dare make a move. Now, however, she was whirling around the umbra crescent all on her own, her stance perfect, her pink hair whipping against her face as she lunged at the target. She looked ferociously dangerous. Deadly beautiful.
For a few moments, he was content to just sit there and watch her move. It was a glorious sight, her body twisting and moving with grace. It was a glorious feeling, too, knowing that he had created that breathtaking monstrosity. He had made her into this. Illidan felt a slight smile tug at his lips.
It faded when she suddenly caught him standing there, her body freezing mid-attack, the umbra crescent almost slipping from her hold. She managed to catch it, straightening up, looking at him with raised brows and parted lips. "Oh, hi," she greeted breathlessly. Then, that blush he had come to almost enjoy crept over her cheeks. "I didn't realize you were there."
Illidan held up his hands. "I didn't mean to interrupt," he replied with ease, stepping forward into the clearing. Maiev shrugged the matter off, shifted her hold on the great weapon. After a moment of silence, he added, "You looked beautiful. Your form, I mean. You probably don't even need me anymore."
Maiev forced herself to look away, untucked her hair from behind her ear so that it would shield her face from him. She needed him, just in ways she didn't know how to explain. Besides, if their sessions ended, what would become of them? More than likely, he would disappear forever from her life, move on to something more interesting. And Maiev would be left on her own once more, left with only the fading memories of how it felt to have him pressed against her. Even if it wasn't nearly as close as she wished, it was all she had, and hadn't she already made up her mind to settle for what she could get?
She spun back towards him much too quick, making her dizzy for a moment. "What have you and Ravencrest been practicing?" She asked. With Illidan receiving his own specialized training with the esteemed soldier now, he always had new things to show her, new stances and swings, all the things he could do with the flames he exercised such control over. She shivered a little at the thought, the excitement she felt because of him.
Now that Maiev was strong enough to actually wield her weapon, and trained enough to have some idea what she was doing, Illidan had been bringing his own weapon so they could actually spar. He was impressed with how quickly she learned, how determined she had proved to be. It was as if once she had gotten the idea into her head, she was an unstoppable force. They lost track of the night in the familiar movements, the weapons colliding, their bodies coming in close only to retreat away from one another. A violently heated dance. Once or twice, Illidan actually thought she might clip him with the edge of her blade. The idea made him proud rather than afraid.
When they finished, the pair was left panting for breath. Maiev's hair was a tangled mess around her face, and Illidan's body ached with overuse. "That's enough for tonight," he said, an order she didn't try to resist. He could see the way her hold on the crescent was loosening, her arms getting weak. He murmured a goodnight and turned to leave, but only made it a few paces before he came to a stop. For a split second, he thought on the invitation from the queen, discarded on his counter.
"Maiev," he murmured, turning around, her name feeling thick in his mouth. The elf girl was watching carefully, head cocked to the side just slightly. "There is this...party thing, I guess. At the Eternal Palace. I got an invitation, and I was thinking maybe, if you wanted, you could go with me."
Maiev remained frozen, motionless as she allowed his words to really, fully sink in. He was asking her to accompany him to a party at the Eternal Palace? Asking nonchalantly, like it was nothing at all to him. But her heart was threatening to burst from her chest, and a cry of happiness was threatening to rip free from her lungs, and she was having a hard time not jumping up and down where she stood. She didn't think she had ever felt so giddy about anything in all her life.
Illidan watched her with an amused expression as she tried so valiantly to contain herself. She was failing miserably, anyway. "I'm going to assume that's a yes," he murmured with a smirk. Without waiting for her reply, he shrugged and turned away once more.
This time, he made it maybe five steps. Then, before he was really aware of what was happening, Maiev had appeared in front of him. He opened his mouth, but snapped it closed as her fingers settled on his chest, grabbing desperately at the fabric of his shirt, bunching it up in her fingers. The elf girl went up on her tip toes and, without hesitation, kissed him.
It was quick and gentle, barely the brush of her mouth against his. Still it seared, engraining into her memory. Maiev knew that for the rest of her immortal life, she would never forget that moment. As she realized what she had done in her boldness, Maiev released her tight hold on him, almost stumbling backwards as she did. The silence hung in the air around them for a few painfully long seconds, her cheeks ablaze, her bright eyes falling on the ground at her feet.
Illidan was staring off ahead, still trying to grasp just what had happened. He was this strange mixture of surprised and not. Like a part of him had known it would happen eventually, while the other part was certain Maiev would never act upon her overly obvious desire. But she had, and now he just wasn't sure what to do next, where to go from there. He glanced up to see her staring very intently at the grass, trying to mask her embarrassment and failing miserably.
In an easy stride he had closed the distance she had tried to place between them. His hand caught her chin in a light hold, forcing her to look up at him. Her lips were parted, eyes wide, silently pleading. Illidan leaned in close, carefully, watching the way her back arched in attempt to be closer to him. When there was but a breath of space between them, he smirked wickedly. "Goodnight, Miss Shadowsong," he whispered.
In an instant, he had pulled away. Left her standing there, trembling from the absence of his touch. Maiev watched motionlessly as he disappeared off into the woods, leaving her with only the lingering sensation of their kiss and the fear that she might never feel it again.
