Fall of Quel'thalas

Chapter Eleven: Nagas is so crazy

Ten years earlier…

Vashj entangled her claws in the vine wreathe about Malfurion's neck. "I love you, desperately, I do. That is the real reason I've changed my mind about the Black Temple. Let Tyrande and Illidan have it. We don't want that wasteland, and we don't need either of them. Malfurion, please!"

He could not look at her. "Clearly, letting you come to my bed was a mistake. Entering my dreams was one thing, already…"

"How can you sssay that to me! We were ssspectacular together. And that was only possible because, at our hearts, we are both fiends. I ssserved Azshara, knowing full well what she was, and that she wanted to bring the Legion to Azeroth, sacrifice the Well of Eternity to do it. And you loosssed the gates to that the demon dog could gorge upon your brother, making him what he isss. We were willing to do anything to be great, to live free as more than what we are. Our plansss nearly worked, except for a lone, undeniable flaw: our partners were not worthy."

Malfurion sat by the violet stream in Darnassus. Vashj swatted at drifting autumn leaves before coiling herself beside him. "Do you finally hear me?"

"But I loved Tyrande. She is still so beautiful to me."

"You find a treacherous woman beautiful? She wants to get with child, using your brother. Why else do you think Illidan chose to tell Tyrande about his son with Saturna Whiteblade? It is not a tale of moral responsibility or compassion for Kael'thas who was made to believe the boy was his. No, this is about rabid virility, a spun yarn about his prowess. The aroma of his lies has put her in heat like the bitch she is. Accept it, Malfurion. You lied to get her, and you ssstole. But your brother did not forget. When he finally came to his senses, Illidan ssseized her back with another lie. All Tyrande is, at the end of it, is a woman who wantsss to hear good things and do good things. She would ignore reality to sssavor feeling righteousss. I may be called vain, but her vanity is of a worse sort; she has set a mirror up on the inssside, preens to that. Elune is not really ever let in. It's Tyrande's word before the world, in the face of a long-sssilent goddess. Don't you wonder why that is? Why Elune has not spoken in ssso long?"

Malfurion did not want to answer that question.

"Because your woman is in love with an evil man. She hasss abandoned her people to indulge in him. That is profane."

"Well I've slept with you. A servant of Ysera himself has given over to lust and recklessness with the henchwoman of Illidan and evil Queen Azshara."

"Naga are not evil, Malfurion. We are merely practical. Our world turned to water, and so we learned to breathe it, to ssswim better than we could walk."

"And you all are ugly. Vashj, no matter how wise you are—I do appreciate your counsel, and your magic. I won't lead you on any longer. I could not be with someone as… as cursed as you are. As shallow as it may seem, I would be committing a worse crime when my heart simply won't allow it."

Vashj snarled. "Your body permitted well enough these last few weeksss, what your heart refusssed to allow. That kind of passion overcomes the physical, refutesss destiny. Are you going to lie and say you were not inspired, for the firssst time, to leave Tyrande alone I asked tonight? And, to abandon the feud with your brother? The battle-cats are ready. An entire legion is waiting for us, but instead, you stopped it all and asked for my opinion."

Malfurion scratched a darkening beard. He'd not shaved or plaited his hair since Tyrande left. Beside Vashj, Lady Novia leaned on her gold battle staff. Novia tried her hand at it, "Tyrande won't ever forgive you for what you did to Illidan, Arch Druid. It's been thousands of years."

"I know."

Novia reasoned further, "And you can't forgive her for spoiling what could have been a good and happy marriage, by never trying with you."

"Yes! That I also know. Vashj, if I wanted to consult your minion, I would have asked for her alone, go away Novia, for the last time."

Vashj waited until she was gone. Though, Novia and her sharp ears were never far away. "But I know your secrets, and I praise you for your ambition. Yesss, Illidan was the Oscur'Shalak, the prophet. He behaved wild on dreaming--living nightmares. He was conssstantly on the brink of madness, flirting alwaysss with genius. Sssuppose Illidan instead had access to the best kingdom in the world, and at the beginning of the world? His visions would have achieved selfish ends. He needed to be ssstifled and shut up in that tree. You arranged for it before he could do harm."

"Vashj, is this all just because he will no longer sleep with you? Or, has your counsel ever been about what's good for the Kal'dorei?"

"Illidan showed care and preference for me, for years. We were friends, or ssso I thought. But my heart matters little when another woman comes along. That is who he is. No matter that I brought Kael'thasss to him when he needed a warlock, and then put a collar around Kael'thas when Illidan's warlock needed a proper massster. I did everything for him, and he disposes of me. You, however, have lissstened to me and treated me as an equal. Malfurion, I have loved the wrong Stormrage, for all this time."

Malfurion leaned over on his knees, watching their reflections together in the water. A simple stream flying nearby the Cenarion Enclave Then, he focused on just hers.

"You have more power and grace than Tyrande has ever effected, on the outside. Of course your near-deity, Azshara still speaks to you, of course. You are capable of being very faithful Vashj, I realize this. Tyrande sneaked and had affairs, when she was upset with me. She never consulted me. She allowed herself to hate me. But you would have been brutally honest, wild snake to my sigiled bear. We speak a language in common: savage beauty. I do appreciate a woman who is not afraid to fight with me, especially to challenge me as you have these last few weeks and get me to grow the way the Emerald Dream never did. You exposed my weaknesses and forced me to take the dagger and excise the dead-wood from myself." Then he covered his face. "Vashj… I am honored, by being chosen—head and shoulders above the rest—by the Great Seductress Le Rishka herself. But, too much time has passed. I cannot see us together. I could never choose you."

Vashj slipped her tail into the pool, then lashed violently, and upset it all over Malfurion. "Then you will go to Shadowmoon Valley and die, alone! Is that what you want? I am offering you new life!"

Malfurion would not be moved. The battle cats roared through portals to Shadowmoon Valley. Against her best advice, and her fervent love for this man, he insisted on making a fool of himself. There would be a war over Tyrande.

The unshackled Naga woman slithered back towards the heart of the city, where Sentinels saluted. She found the lake there, submerged, and did not come back out. The water would swallow her tears.

Novia spread her feet and held her battle staff at the ready. "You should have been High Priestess of this holy city."

The water bubbled, but Vashj said nothing.

"But my Lady, my worship! Malfurion will ruin it. All of it. Is there nothing at all that you can do to keep the druids and her priests from fighting, to save us?"

The watery reply, "My plan is too large. For thousandsss of years, my ambition has been too big, for me to fall in love with immortal men and always, alwaysss emerge again unsatisssfied."

Novia asked Vashj what she would need, to make it all finally work.

"Oh, you poor naïve thing. You heard Malfurion give in to his hate. You've seen Tyrande go running from here, consssumed by her lust. You've no doubt heard about foolish Kael'thasss losing his Queen and trekking across Northrend to find her. And Arthasss, he calls thisss all a game. A game! I agree with him. We are all pawnsss, being set up to fall if sssomeone does not intervene. In my dreams, I have seen it: Thisss is the age to give up hope. Thisss is the time to ssspoil your health with sssinful revelry, the end. You have come to ssserve me and the Moon Cult too late, girl. For, I would need sssway over time itself."

Novia looked to the sky and its gathering storm-clouds. She prayed for exactly that miracle.

Five years later…

Lady Vashj lifted her hand before entering the main shrine of the Black Temple. Scyth'lerin and her consorts paused. The male Naga were all very worn for having survived so many ordeals at the hand of Kael'thas, it felt, a lifetime ago, and then in the recent two battles with Azshara. But, and their reflections in the golden collars the handsome Elven-looking consorts wore confirmed this, they had not suffered for nothing. Vashj could not even resist adjusting the huge aqua-blue diadem in her brunette coifed hair. Snakes had been replaced with abundant ringlets.

She wordlessly pointed to the golden cage in Scyth'lerin's hand. One of her consorts leaned down—Vashj savored the view—and unlocked it. Belorim, now a long-legged boy with serious demeanor, stepped out.

"Now get rid of it." Scyth'lerin took the cage and disappeared around the corner. Vashj extended her hand. Belorim did not want to take it but one of the collared men in embroidered loincloth snapped his very humanoid teeth. Vashj smiled wide and savored that too.

"My friends, thisss is our moment! Look how beautiful and perfect we are." She tugged Belorim's hand near and patted the boy on his head. He looked to be about ten years old. Scyth'lerin rejoined them, they four took a conspiratorial breath together, and then went in the presence of Illidan Stormrage. The two large doors of the Blackened Shrine creaked open and they relished the long walk on two legs.

Illidan smiled on seeing Belorim. Belorim defiantly picked his nose. Tyrande seized her husband's violet arm, and they shared a grateful kiss.

"Lady Vashj. You look better than ever."

"Illidan, I'm right here!" Tyrande was playful, but nervous.

"Well, she does, Tyrande. Don't pretend that you can't remember how Vashj looked before, and then thousands of years before that. Some of us men used to call her Le Rishka…"

Now, Tyrande was firm. "If I wasn't aware of your history with the woman, I could have joined in praising her… Vashj." They mock-kissed on either cheek. Then, Tyrande knelt down. A silver sash fell between folds of liquid-white mooncloth as she readjusted her skirts. "Oh, what is his name?"

Vashj sniffed a little snottily at Tyrande crying already. Illidan growled up a fang for his once henchwoman. "…Belorim."

"Oh, that's beautiful. Illidan, so perfect for your son--our son! Of the Light, Born of the Light. Oh, thank you Vashj, for saving him from the Maelstrom. Husband, I do not know why you couldn't confess to me that you had a son sooner." She hugged Belorim. "How old are you, sweetheart?"

"I'm ten years old."

"He likesss to play little games with his auntie Vashj, don't you?" then she snapped, "He's only five."

"I said I'm ten. And I want my real father!"

Illidan laughed. It had a roiling, threatening lilt to it. "Bim. There are many things in this life you do not understand, about the way adults work. About what is best for you. Whatever happened in the great storm, that miracle which restored your godmother Vashj to her true form, you must forget it. Think only of the bright future with your beautiful mother. Tyrande is a priestess."

"My mom, my real mom is a ghost." Belorim told Tyrande.

Illidan said, "A ghost? Oh, that is a fun game, isn't it. But do you remember her name? I can't."

Belorim tried very hard… he couldn't remember either. "But I met May at the castle, and she showed me how to turn into a ghost wolf. I can do it right now! I remember, and no one else knowed how to show me, so it had to be her. May is a Tauren."

Tyrande cried harder. "Oh, I understand about your lost mother, I feel so exceptionally what you do, with my power. We may never know her truly, but I will do all that I can to support you and love, you, my Belorim. Won't you at least let me try and love you?"

Even at that age, Belorim was the sort of young gentleman to be affected by the suffering of another person, especially a lady. He hugged Tyrande back.

Illidan and Lady Vashj smiled at one another. "Of course, old friend, Coilfang Reservoir will be returned to you, as a sign of our thanks. Tyrande has wanted a child for so long, and I was missing my Belorim after he went out in the storm."

Tyrande, in turn, forgave Vashj's crimes against the Night Elves after so many thousands of years. Vashj was now a free woman with power again.

"High Priestess, I also hope that you can forgive any bad feeling between us, regarding Malfurion. If only I could enter into hisss life without causing any heartbreak whatever…" and she faked very good tears.

Tyrande hugged Vashj next. "Because he and I were not happy, does not mean that you two cannot be."

Belorim ended that reunion glaring up at Illidan. This is the man who had made him cry while at Tempest Keep, who he remembered took him from his real father's arms once, and did not want to give him back. Who had sneaked into the room when they weren't looking and killed Korgy, the fel-dog.

"Please… Miss Tyrande, I don't belong here. I want to go back to Silvermoon and see my mom. And my dad will be worried, please. Please."

"Well, I agree that the Black Temple isn't all that it could be. I'd have raised you in Darnassus instead, but since Malfurion and I fought over it… neither of us are allowed back in. It is sacred ground for only the cooperative druids and priests…" her eyes wandered.

To Illidan, Belorim refused to cry. "You're big, but I'm not afraid of you."

"I am your father, why would you be?"

The boy squeezed his eyes shut. "The Spirits will protect me, and the elements will teach me to be strong."

Tyrande kissed Belorim's forehead. "Such faith! Oh, little one, don't worry. I will love you as much as your father ever has. Now, how would you like some cookies?" and took him away.

"Vashj…" Illidan grinned. "I am sure that, by the time Tyrande and I are back and settled in our bed tonight, and celebrating… you will have an opportunity to give Malfurion my regards."

She curtsied. "I will convey them, of course, in the way that only a Liberator gone years from her lover can."

It was tempting to say far more. They'd pulled off so much… but Tyrande was waiting. Illidan snapped out his wings, then turned and strutted back to his new family. Vashj blew Belorim a kiss, and waved as they dragged him.

"Good bye, my little meal ticket."

Not long after reading, Blaize overheard Celestia making plans to sneak and have tea with Novia at the end of the month. He stole paper into the sitting room and wrote to his friend too, why not?

Dannox,

Something exceptional occurred—are you psychic as well as sick in the head? How did you ever guess what would take place between Celestia and I? I admit now, that is why I've been elusive all this month. I got to reading all about her first impressions of us being together, and then the Missus must have sensed my better mood, she began to adore me, prefer me… I feel like an idiot. It was there between us all along.

But it won't do either to write it all down here, as if we're passing notes in class while Novia and Celestia aren't watching. Let's meet while the school-marms have dinner tomorrow night. She must know by now that I won't stay in like some tamed thing while she breaks our pact and goes out with a friend. Come, you pick the place, and I can promise all kinds of good news.

Regards,

General Nathaniel Blaize Sunstrider

Dannox was very amused to see the hated last name attached to all Blaize's other titles, finally.

General Sunstrider,

You are most welcome, of course, to join me at Cantrips down below the city. Despite what the self-possessed Kirin Tor magicians would have you believe, please do bring your own lantern because their efforts at sprucing up the sewer are as shoddy as ever.

-Dannox the miscreant.

That night, Blaize almost missed Dannox at Cantrips because he didn't expect to see him in such colorful company. His party took up nearly the entire bar, and so many tables had been pushed together to accommodate them. There was a pirate-woman, several rogues, a Goblin, a Dwarf woman juggling frothy beer steins, and what Blaize finally felt comfortable asserting was an old Worgen wearing nothing but his gray fur, when he got close enough.

Dannox waved, "General!" One of the other rogues wrestled a comrade in black nearest Dannox out of that seat. The third was a woman in mask. She laughed and dragged the emptied chair out for him. Though, Blaize realized before too long that he was afraid to sit down.

Dannox clamped a hand on his friend's shoulder and forced him down. "Now, everyone, get your money ready. Alright, General—"

The Goblin whined, "It ain't fair if you goad him into it, let him introduce himself."

Dannox had a sip of beer from the Dwarf on the other side of him—she tipped it just right into his mouth, and then the Night Elf man urged Blaize to get on with it. At first, it made no sense whatsoever…

"I am General Nathaniel Blaize Sunstrider." He nodded with gentility.

Laughter erupted, then wild whistles. They exclaimed joy at the miracle unfolding in front of their eyes, when Dannox reached into his pocket and tossed gold—it was always Novia's gold—across the table to several of the noisiest people.

"Sorry, General, I really didn't think you'd make the same slip twice. Congratulations on finally falling in love with your own wife."

The Dwarf woman gave Dannox another sip from her stein. "He didn't think it was possible, not really. But we all said, 'awww, Dannox, have a heart. He might actually like you enough to take your advice, lad.'" And she gave over to rapid-fire giggling.

Blaize had no idea what to say after that. The pirate woman lifted her eyepatch and revealed a glass eyeball done over in precious stones, then snapped it back down again. Blaize almost spat out the ale now offered to him.

The Goblin started up a cigar. "But that's our Dannox for you, he's hard to love. Which is 'xactly why Miss Lady Novia or whomever doesn't know about us. We have trouble enough from him!"

"HAHAHAHA!" all around the table.

There was no organization to the evening whatsoever. The pirate woman instantly settled back into one of her stories. Ten years ago, on a wild, stormy day, a great cry came up out of the Maelstrom. That was near where they were sailing, if they weren't in it. No one was stupid enough to take a ship right over Naga waters. Then it all went silent, sky crystal blue once more, and these serpent creatures started flopping up on deck. Laughing the water up out of their lungs and screaming joy. The boat was weighted down, they caught so many crocodilian fish—but then they all grew legs and started walking around. Naked men and women everywhere, hugging, dancing, running up and down the dry deck, shouting ancient Elven languages.

And then, as a drunken pirate was prone to do, her story dwindled to little more than an orgy.

A rogue stopped her from going too far with it. "But all the same, that's one of the pleasanter stories I ever heard told, of The Curse being lifted. Most of the rest involve people being run over in seaside towns by deranged, hungry mobs, clothes getting stolen. And then some places didn't get the happy sorts of Naga, and entire harbors got burned down."

One Human sighed, "You should have seen Stormwind Harbor. It was more of the second scenario. As if we could have helped them, all on our own, to reverse it. You know, for a long time, the Naga were looking for someone to blame. They refused to believe Lady Vashj had done it. Well, strong-armed Azshara into doing it, that is."

The pirate woman stuck out her tongue at Blaize, and he stopped making eye contact with her. "All those angry sorts cleared out after a while though." She reflected. "Right around the time Vashj took over Coilfang again, and Tyrande went back to the Black Temple. What was settled was settled, and hey, I'm not complainin'. A Naga sailor who is grand to look at while we're docked, and deadly as a shark when we've got to dive and get to a stash of treasure first, at the very bottom of the sea… he's alright by me. He's alright by me! He's just fine by me! Walkin' round then swimmin' down the front o'my shirt, he's just fine by me!"

And they all started singing. Blaize looked at Dannox for a long time. No, Lady Novia could not know just how truly strange he was. Then he looked down at the far end of the table, where the Worgen with a white bandage tied around his furry head played an illegal Darkmoon Faire card game with the extra rogue, and the Goblin suddenly got up to slip away into the darkness between two houses sitting up out of the sewer water on stilts. Blaize just barely heard some shady deal being made.

Then Dannox shouted, "Let's go watch some duels, yes?"

They all piled on, hugging him and paraded out of the bar, with their drinks.

Blaize counted ten friends altogether, though that number kept changing. People were walking in and out all the time, to meet friends, or slink away from a scratched up face that looked a lot like one of the slinkers' sheathed weapons. The finer instincts of the old General made him wish he'd brought a rapier or dagger; but for some reason when he'd written that letter, he'd imagined a sun-bleached café like he and Dannox were always frequenting. Or, at least, he'd supposed that the sewer would have some charming, out of the way… No, a bistro made absolutely no sense here. Blaize had been around the United Elven Socialites for far too long.

The first fight was between a Human priest, and then a human shadow priest. Dannox and all his friends, sitting on rooftops, stairs, or swinging their legs from the last porch-level of the arena masters' quarters shouted displeasure. But there was a twist to the long fight: Dannox stealthed up close in his cat form—Blaize was afraid his friend had skipped out on him at first, in this strange place—then suddenly the tree-man came into view, tossing annoying green healing spells on the holy priest, while the Human swathed in shadow magic was smote to death.

Everyone screamed wild with it. One of the ninjas shouted that he wanted to finally duel a pirate, but that died back down. Then, out of the awkward pause, one of the rogues dashed out into the arena like a madwoman and slid to a stop on the watery floor to challenge Dannox. He went back to a cat and could be seen shaking his head in a jovial, mewing 'No' before he completely disappeared. Blaize was challenged next, he gladly made the excuse of having no weapon, and finally the rogue reached into a leather satchel across her back and pulled out a long, metal claw. She fixed it on her hand. It worked like a brace that went around her wrist on either side. Her fist held tight to a gold beam that crossed the middle. The Goblin returned and let out a low whistle when he saw her wind the thing up. Tiny gold gears got the blades slicing and whirring around in deadly circles on their own.

"If it was Goblin engineering, I woulda' dived beneath the house by now!"

Blaize was horrified. "Is it Gnomish?"

The Worgen man dropped a very good hand of cards from where Blaize and Dannox could both see below, on the last level. The wolf creature was transfixed by the strange weapon and drifted toward it, flexing his own needle claws.

"April, I would have never suspected you, to be one of them."

"Splint, you know best what the green-Naga suffer in this world. Is Master Slicer really all that misguided—"

Blaize was going 'huh?!' when suddenly, the Worgen named Splint whistled, and four green Naga slithered out of sewer pipes, and scared him into grabbing Dannox.

"Oh, don't worry. That's just Leo, Mikey, Don, and Raph over there in the red headband. They're ninjas."

"They're WHAT?!"

"Teenagers, sure, but also mutated green Naga ninjas. Haven't you heard the stories of them saving people who get lost in these sewers? Though, I'll hold you back if you really want me to, handsome."

Blaize moved across the porch, and composed himself.

The rogue named April brandished her claw-weapon and backed away. Each of the Naga produced a katana, staff, nunchucks, and then a set of blades in the webbed hands of the last one. They announced that they would tolerate no servants of Master Slicer in their sewers, or any other hunter of those who willingly accepted demon magic into their veins. Whether it was Azshara's Curse that made true Naga like them hide in the sewers of Dalaran, or the lure of the Demon magic which caused some Fel Elves to grow horns, though they'd reformed themselves after the Burning Legion's collapse.

The battle was spectacular, with lots of 'tauren-a-bungas!' and 'dude's' thrown around. Then, it was over. Dannox's little group was stunned to silence when, at last, four green Naga slithered away or tucked in muscular tails then cartwheeled back into the shadows. The furry gray Worgen, named Splint, reached out for his cane, was tossed it, and then hobbled away from the dueling ground. Green Naga were automatically outlaws, in any city.

April was not dead. But the weapon given to her by this Master Slicer person had been bashed into about a thousand places. The Goblin offered to fix it for her.

"Oh, but Chao'thas will never accept me back. He will know it isn't his handiwork any longer." She mourned.

It was all done in whispers, but Blaize was still horrified. Moreso than before.

"Uh, let's all go back to Cantrips and get drunk, yes?" Dannox now shouted. A slimmer party than before marched back down the large pipeline and to the bar.

Somewhere, among stories of the teenaged mutant ninja Naga, Splint, claw weapons and demon-magic hunters, Dannox's latest exploits with Shine the opera singer, and drawn out confessions of his wife's fabled beauty—for Blaize, at this stage of his affection for her, had to be so smashed in order to share what he wanted so badly to himself—the General got very, very, very drunk.

They inevitably asked him about Saturna Whiteblade, and how did it feel to punch Kael'thas like so many elves wanted to these days, and that led to a firestorm of Blaize swearing and throwing chairs through other groups of customers. Dan laughed nervously, pinned Blaize's arms together from behind and pulled him off his feet, like before. Then, he got them out of there.

"General, oh General," Dannox lumbered through the night streets of Dalaran with one of Blaize's arms around his shoulders, "When will you ever learn that you're being baited? That pirate woman wanted to fight you all night long. Well, at least she fought one of the ninjas at the bar finally, and we had an answer to that old debate at last."

"Let'm come. I sheen more daysh… Celeshtia. Dinner was over ages ago, she's gonna be sho mad, Dannox!"

"I know, I know. Here, why don't you come home with me, and you'll sober up there." But Dannox did not sound conciliatory at all. As they turned onto the well-lit streets of Zangar Avenue, and up the stairs of Novia's well-appointed home, his dark face gained a hard edge to it. For the first time since Blaize had ever known him, the jolly Night Elf truly frowned.

"Shomethin's wrong."

"No matter what happens next, General, I want you to know that… it isn't me, who's wrong."

The door opened for them, Dannox dragged Blaize up the stairs and into a bedroom, then heaved his friend onto the bed. He tied Blaize's wrists to the bedposts, pulled off his shoes, and searched him, delved into every breast pocket or backpocket. Blaize drowsed into clarity when Dannox crawled off of him and backed to the doorway. "He's clean."

The door creaked open. A woman walked in wearing pants and a mask with eyes painted on. The eyes were stylized, dreamy, and in the ancient elven style. Blaize struggled to remember where he'd seen them before. Someplace… evil. From a time in his past…

She slapped a riding crop into the open palm of her hand, but then swore at how much she'd hurt it.

This was the part where Dan might have laughed. He never did. "Come on, Novia, he's scared enough already."

She turned on him and raised the crop over her head. "You be quiet. Oh, General… I hope you don't mind dropping in suddenly. You see, my Mistress had some questions for you, and they could not have been answered in any regular way. And so, you've had an evening to beat all evenings, nothing that anyone who cares about you or who wouldn't spit on you would ever believe. Now, tell me, what do you know about Queen Saturna's coming here at month's end!"

Blaize felt sluggish. All he wanted to do was to answer and then get to sleep. And he kept asking where his friend Dannox was.

"I'm right here, Nathaniel, I swear."

Novia pried even deeper when she didn't get the answers she wanted. She slapped and pricked his arms, his legs, made Dannox turn him over too. There were no useful results, however. Finally, she was forced to make her terrible point.

"Does she know about the pact my Lady Vashj made with Kael'thas ten years ago, or not, in exchange for the boy!"

Blaize cried that he had no idea what she was talking about. He and Celestia had been elusive for the past month in order to remain in good standing for whenever Queen Saturna arrived, that was all. It had nothing to do with offending their friends, it had nothing to do with anything at all, except for survival. Novia pressed further, as to why Celestia had been so terse at their dinner earlier that evening? Blaize shouted that he loved his wife and they had no secrets! Not between themselves, and no secrets from anyone else. Wasn't their banishment terrible enough already, without more such schemes! This, he repeated, it seemed forever, before Dannox kissed Novia and made her stop. Then, they both left the room.

The next morning, Blaize woke up feeling terrible. The curtains had been shut tight. He felt his wrists. No, they were perfectly healed. "Then why does everything else sting so bad…"

Dannox lay in bed next to him, watching every move. His smile was unsure. "At the time… you told me that you liked it."

They were both fully undressed. Blaize froze.

Dannox kept going, he sounded nervous. "I was afraid this would happen. Though… though my feelings aren't exactly hurt. You said that you weren't sure. You just wanted to try it with me, and so here we are." Dannox reached for him and kissed him.

Blaize startled out of the bed and crashed to the floor.

"Stay away from me. You stay away from me. I've never loved men in my life, what in the hell did you do!"

"We went out and ran into some of my friends. You got very drunk and confessed this big secret to me: that you were, in fact, curious about us after that steak we shared at the tavern. And I care for you, Blaize, I wasn't going to let you continue suffering, when you aren't happy in your marriage. So I brought you here, and I let you try me on. It is really that simple. I'm hurt you won't see it in the same way. I am your friend, Nathaniel. Unlesss… unless the ugly truth about your relationship with Celestia, and then your good news about us being together, is not what you meant, in your letter."

"No, that's not what happened." Blaize grasped his pounding forehead. "We got here… there was a woman."

"Yes, at first. Because you were afraid. And then I told her to go. We tried it again, alone."

"No, we did not! She was yelling at me, something about Saturna?"

Dannox asserted that it was Blaize whining about Saturna until he calmed down enough to enjoy it like a man. And it was very manly, nothing to be ashamed of. Though, Dannox was willing to wait and then they could both tell Celestia when Blaize was ready.

"Like lightning in Netherstorm! You're not telling my wife anything, you're not to go near her!"

"Dammit, you called for me last night, you begged me to stay near you, don't you remember, Blaize? Do you really think I'm this sexual fiend with no heart? I wouldn't do this to a close friend without a real reason. I would not violate that trust."

"I do… remember that part." Blaize apologized, he didn't know what else to do when Dannox never sounded more distressed before. Something was definitely wrong, definitely twisted up and pulled apart and just wicked. He snatched up all his clothes and left the house.

Novia sneaked in on Dannox, while he was watching Blaize through the window. The old General was barely composed, marching hastily down the street.

"You did well, my love."

Dannox flexed his fingers into a fist, watched the knuckles bulge. "Of course I did. There is no way in this life or the next, that I would ever let you endanger my family. Now, will you forget about Filthy, Rach and our daughters?"

She lifted her chin. "I can't. Not unless you forget all that I said about Vashj, Saturna and Kael'thas. Oh, Big Dan, don't feel so bad. You two looked good together, I saw through the keyhole. I bet he'll come around after a while, out of guilt, and then you can have one of your friends as a true lover for real. Perhaps, for the first time in your life."

She slapped him first, before Dannox could shout at her.

"You're still free to take it up with your one-legged opera whore. There's no reason for you to hate me, when, considering all the sanctuary I've given you—you convict, you lying friend to what's left of the Burning Legion! I'm still being so generous…" Novia gathered up her skirts and left. Dannox lay back down and felt sure he was the worst person in the entire world.