A/N: Being an adult is stupid and makes it ridiculously hard to keep up with any sort of consistent fanfic schedule. HOWEVER, there is now a release date for the Illidan book that is pretty much going to single-handedly ruin all of my headcanons, so you can almost certainly guarantee completion of Retribution before it is released in early April. Because I'd like to finish before the canon comes along and blows up every little gap I filled in with my own ideas. It'll be like a game. Surprise chapters- you never know when I'm going to post them :P
...
ten
The first thing to which Tyrande became aware was the aching, throbbing pain that seemed to resonate in every part of her body. It resounded in each bone, pulsated in each muscle, made her shoulders slump and her eyes feel heavy as she rolled onto her side and forced herself to cough up the water that had filled her lungs.. A muffled groan on her lips, she lifted a hand with a vast amount of effort and tried to call upon the Light of Elune to offer some restorative powers. The pale golden glow twisted around her in shimmering strands, seeping into her pores and reviving her strength, until she was finally able to push herself up, half sitting but mostly leaned back onto her outstretched hand behind her.
Blinking slowly, she tried to clear away some of the lingering dizziness and exhaustion that had overcome her, tried to make some sense of her surroundings. The white cloth of her dress was ruined with grass stains and splattered dirt, and her long tresses of hair were snarled and matted with leaves, dripping river water that splashed against her clothing and bare flesh. Her memories came back to her in flickering, shattered pieces- the Undead had been advancing, far too many for them to fight off, and she had done all that she could to save the others. She had fallen, fallen, crashed into the icy cold water below, and the currents must have carried her here, wherever that was.
Her strength was limited, and with each rise and fall of her chest, she could feel it waning, fading. Each ragged breath was harder than the last, and keeping her eyes open long enough to maintain focus on anything was even more of a challenge. The world around her blurred together, colors blending into a nauseating rainbow that swam around her until all she could think to do was close her eyes just to block it out. For the first time in as long as she could remember, Tyrande didn't know what to do. She didn't know how to save herself. She didn't know if she was strong enough to even try.
It was the snapping sound of a branch somewhere in the distance that forced her to open her eyes once more. Blinking to try and bring her vision back into focus, she peered into the shadows and tried to make out the figures shambling towards her. A bright glimmer of hope made her believe that perhaps it might have been the Warden or the Blood Elven prince, having tracked her down and come to rescue her. But that hope was shattered when she realized the figure coming towards her was not an elf at all, but a half-rotted corpse, another of the endless Scourge, and he was followed closely by a band of allies.
Grimacing, Tyrande tried to push herself up, tried to crawl back to keep some of the distance between them. But her body seemed unable to obey her, and for a moment, she was frozen, trapped, paralyzed as they inched closer and all the priestess could do was stare up into the literal face of death and pray that this was not where she would meet her own end.
And as she always did, Elune answered her prayers, but it was far from in the way that Tyrande might have expected. Before the Undead could come any closer, the ground trembled and the air shook with a mighty thud, as Illidan Stormrage landed between the approaching enemies and the fallen priestess. His leathery wings were outstretched to their full span, casting a dark shadow over everything around him, and he clutched the glaives menacingly, waving them before him to beckon the skeletons forth into battle. He spared but a second to glance back at her before launching forward into combat; his movements were unnaturally fast, irregular and unpredictable as he sliced through each body and left them in irreparable pieces.
At last, when all of the Undead had been defeated, and a heavy silence had fallen over them, interrupted only by the dull and steady sound of the currents along the shoreline, Illidan folded in his wings and slung the war glaives over his back, and made his way to Tyrande's side in a few easy strides. He dropped down to his knees in an instant, reaching out to pull her up into his lap, cradling her there as his fingers strayed over her skin. From this proximity, her luminescence was blindingly bright, the white glow of her aura filling his entire vision until it was all that existed, until it had blotted out everything else. "Are you hurt?" He asked, doing all in his power to keep his tone even, to keep his own warring emotions locked away where they couldn't do anyone any more harm. "Tyra, talk to me. Please. I need to know you're alright."
It was the sound of her name- her nickname, the one that he'd been using since they were children- that sent her over the edge. Her arms lifted to encircle his waist as she buried her face against the heat of his skin and, for what must have been the first time in as long as she could remember, she allowed herself to cry. She cried for all that they had lost- for the fallen Kaldorei, and their destroyed homelands, and the days of innocence when it had been she and Illidan and Malfurion without a single care in all the world. She cried for the love that she had sacrificed, for the chance that she had never taken, for the decisions she had made that had prevented her from ever getting to hear Illidan say her name so softly and so sweetly, as he had in that moment. She cried, and Illidan held her against him, unfurling his wings and wrapping them around her like maybe he could shield her from all the rest of the world, like maybe for just one single moment, he could be the one to keep her safe.
Illidan wasn't sure how long they stayed there like that, only that it didn't seem nearly long enough. Still, in time, he forced himself to loosen his hold on her and ease her into a sitting position. "Hush," he murmured, his tone surprisingly gentle, the demonic energies that moved within him apparently having subsided for the time being. Tyrande twisted her body around to look at him, pressing a hand to his chest, slender fingers resting upon the carved indentations of his markings.
"You saved my life," she murmured, dipping her chin slightly, though not so much that she was unable to look up at him through her lashes.
Tentatively, Illidan lifted a hand of his own to push her matted hair back from her face, tucking the tangled strands behind one of her elongated ears. "Consider us even, then," he replied, the words almost tinged with some teasing amusement. "Though I would have come to save your life even if you had not saved my own."
Tyrande closed her eyes for a moment far too long, recalling the last time that they had met, the way that he had shoved her down and looked straight through her like he had never seen her in his life. A part of her truly believed that this was all the work of the demonic magic he had consumed, there he was being torn apart from within, and that the man who had held her as she cried was the true Illidan, the one that she had known and loved. But it was impossible for her to look past the horrors that he had done, the wrongs that he had committed. She could forgive, and she could declare their debts repaid, but she could never forget, and so she could never fully heal from the lingering wounds that he had left on her heart.
After another long moment, Illidan pushed her carefully from his lap and stood, extending out a hand to help her to her feet. She took it, lacing their fingers together and keeping the hold even as she used her free hand to smooth out the creases from her ruined robes. For a moment, they stood there face to face, neither of them knowing what to say but neither seeming eager to let this moment shatter around them.
It was Illidan that finally brought it crashing down around them. "Let's go," he said then, turning away from her, letting her hand slip from his grasp.
The priestess took but a single step in his direction. "Go?" She repeated faintly, brows pulling together. "Where are you taking me?"
Illidan threw a quick glance back at her over his shoulder, hesitating for a moment like he was trying to memorize the exact shade of her glow, the precise intensity of her radiance. "Back to Malfurion," he stated, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "You didn't think I was just going to drag you off and keep you for myself, did you?"
"Well, no, but-"
"Then let's go," he repeated at once, turning his gaze forward and starting off once more. But he must have made it only two steps, his hooves kicking up little clouds of dust around his ankles, before he came to a halt. "Unless," he said slowly, and Tyrande thought she might have made out the slightest of amused smirks tugging at the corners of his lips. "Unless you wanted me to drag you off and keep you to myself."
His taunting playfulness was contagious, if only because she couldn't even recall the last time she had seen him like that, had seen him let his guard down so very much. Like after all that had happened, all the gaps that had come between them and all the cracks that had shattered her memory of the boy she once cherished so very much, he had found enough sense of peace to let that part of him show. Like for the moment, at least, she could truly believe that Illidan, her Illidan, was still in there somewhere, struggling under the weight of the choices that he had made.
In a few strides she had fallen into place at his side- they were uneven and swaying, for the entirety of her strength had yet to return to her- and shot a glance at him from the corner of her eye. "You want me to want that," she retorted, lifting her chin as she waited for his own reply.
But the teasing remark that she had been expecting never came; instead, she got a shadow falling over her as he stepped into her path, tilting his head towards her and bringing a hand to rest gently against her upper arm. "Perhaps," he murmured, and all at once the atmosphere lost that light and playful tone, jolting back to the heavy severity. Illidan trailed his fingertips up the skin of her arm, sparking little flames everywhere he touched, up her neck and then along the length of her jawline, pausing before he reached her slightly parted lips. "But I know that any chance for that is behind us now."
Tyrande felt her brows knit together, felt her mouth open and close several times without any sound ever actually making it past her throat. He spoke truthfully, and of course she knew that. She had made her choices, not once but twice, and neither of them had been in his favor. She had seen the things he was capable of, had seen the way the demonic magic with which he flirted so freely had twisted and changed him, not only physically but internally as well, over and over again. No, she had made her choices, and she knew that she wouldn't have changed her mind even if she could, and she knew that it was unfair to have ever given Illidan the impression that she would.
This time, it was her that shouldered past him. "Let's go," she said quickly, repeating his own words back to him. Flitting his wings behind him, he was left with no choice but to follow after her. Once upon a time, he thought, he might have given anything to walk beside her as he did now. But for that single moment, Illidan thought that he was just grateful to get to stand in the radiance of her glimmering light one last time.
…
Maiev wasn't sure how long she had been struggling against the vines that Malfurion had put in place around her, only that it wasn't going well. Her weapon lay at her feet, out of her reach, and they were far too thick for her to simply tear through with her bare hands. Every second that was wasted stood between her and Illidan, separated them, allowed him to get away from her all over again.
And this time, he was not alone, but was assisted in his escape by the very people that had damned him into her care to begin with. It was sickening, it was against everything that she knew to be true, and she would not have it.
It wasn't long until the Watchers found her. They had been dealing with the last of the naga forces on their own, as the other factions of allies seemed to have made themselves scarce in the absence of their respective leaders. Or perhaps they had retreated to their base camp alongside Prince Kael'thas, that traitor. The very thought of the young elf made Maiev scowl; if not for his apparent inability to keep his mouth shut, she never would have been in this situation to begin with. She should have known better than to trust anyone else in helping her with her mission. It was the interference of others- one other in particular- that had liberated Illidan in the first place and set off this whole disaster.
Cordana skidded to a halt in front of her mistress, weapon at the ready and still slick and gleaming with blood. "Warden, are you alright?" She asked hurriedly, using her blade to carefully cut through the bindings until her commander was able to stumble forward. "What happened? Where is the Betrayer?"
In a swift motion, Maiev bent down to retrieve her weapon, gripping tightly as she used her free hand to adjust the placement of her plated armor. "Gone," she sneered. "Again."
Cordana's long, emerald brows pulled together in a deep frown as she shook her head slowly. "I don't understand," she answered slowly. "We had him, it was over-"
"Tyrande," Maiev huffed, brushing past her lieutenant and scanning the area around them like some great sign might appear to point her in the right direction. "Malfurion and Illidan set off to find her, convinced there was some chance she may yet live." Sliding the umbra crescent into his proper place across her back, she balled her hands into fists at her sides, gauntlets groaning slightly as they scraped against themselves. "She has interfered for the last time in this. From now on, we are on our own."
With that, she started off, a new determination in her hurried steps, leaving Cordana and the others to follow after her. "But Mistress Shadowsong," the younger elf said, when at last she had managed to retain a close enough pace so as not to fall behind. "If the Betrayer has been pardoned by Shan'do Stormrage-"
Maiev came to an abrupt halt, turning sharply on her heel to face Cordana fully. "If Shan'do Stormrage has pardoned the Betrayer, we can only assume he has done so from a lapse in clarity and judgment, and will continue our pursuit regardless. I vowed an eternity to Illidan, and that is precisely what I intend to give him."
…
Some time later, Malfurion found himself pacing along the banks of the river Arevass, pausing every few moments to scan the rushing waves like he expected his brother and Tyrande to burst right out of the depths. A few paces away lingered Kael'thas; most of their forces had departed for the camp, but he had opted to stay with the Druid, an offering of what little support his presence could provide, since he had been the one to confess the truth of Tyrande's near-demise.
"What is taking so long?" Malfurion asked frantically, spinning around towards the young prince. Kael could clearly see the worry etched into his face, the evidence of the love that he bore for the High Priestess. "They should have been back by now."
Wondering idly if he would have been better off back at the base with the rest of the Sindorei, Kael gave a helpless shrug, the most he could think to do. "Are you sure it was wise to entrust someone you once condemned?" He stated quietly, unsure if his opinions, irrelevant as they were, would be welcomed.
A brief look of doubt flickered across Malfurion's face, but it was gone in an instant. "Illidan would not hurt Tyrande," he responded, and Kael was surprised by the assurance in his tone, the genuine confidence in those words, instead of sounding like he was trying to convince himself of the truth behind them. "We have had our differences, but there is one line he would not cross."
Ignoring the curiosity that the words awoke within him, Kael made himself busy by picking imaginary dust from the sleeves of his robes and smoothing out the tangles from his hair. When the silence had gone on too long, he stole another glance back at the ancient elf. "And what, if you don't mind me asking, are your intentions for him now? Do you still plan to hand him over to the Warden?"
Malfurion hadn't had the time to devote any real thought to that, not with far more pressing matters occupying his mind, but the realization hit him then that a decision would need to be made, and it would fall to him, once more, to decide the fate of his own twin. Long ago, he had never imagined that they would ever be apart, but of course the weight of reality had crushed any naive fantasies from him long ago.
It seemed that now he would have no time for such thoughts either, for a moment later the very air around them shifted, rotating and drawing in on itself before it suddenly swirled and exploded into a portal, and Illidan stepped into view with Tyrande leaning into his side for support. The moment the portal had collapsed, Malfurion rushed to stand before them, extending his arms so that the priestess could collapse forward against his chest. For a moment, all else was forgotten, and all he could think to do was crush her to his chest, pressing his lips to the top of her head, breathing out a long sigh of relief. "I thought I had lost you forever, my love," he whispered softly, pulling back enough that he could meet her stare. Glancing up past her head at the place where his brother stood, he added, "If not for Illidan's aid, I surely would have."
Nodding in understanding, Tyrande slipped from his grasp, retracing her steps towards Illidan, reaching out to take one of his hands in both of her own, tracing faded scars and calloused fingertips. "You saved me," she murmured, looking up at him through thick lashes, and before she thought any better of it, she had gone up on her tiptoes to press a quick, chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth. "Thank you, Illidan."
Stunned and motionless, he stared back into her luminance, shifting his hold so that he could give her small hand a slight squeeze. "Whatever I may be, whatever I may become in this world, know that I will always look out for you, Tyrande. If ever you need anything of me, you need only call on me." He hesitated for only a moment before releasing his hold on her, letting go of her for the final time. It felt almost liberating, like a great shadow that had been cast over him or some unseen force bearing down on him from all directions had finally lifted away, and he could breathe without the burden of his unrequited love for the first time in all of his life.
Stepping past her, he came to stood before Malfurion. "We have had much strife between us, my brother," he began slowly, swallowing hard, trying to find the words to say. For once, he spoke from his own heart, his own feelings, and not the clouded judgment of his own rage and bitter resentment. For once, he was free. "I have known only ages of hate for you. But, for my part, I wish it to end. From this day forward, let there be peace between us."
For a few prolonged seconds, Malfurion faltered. He let his eyes fall shut, watching as memories flickered across his mind, and all the while Illidan watched as the earthly colors of his aura danced before him. When he opened them again, it was with a serious expression that his brother couldn't see, but could somehow feel in all the space between them. "You have brought much suffering to the world, Illidan. For that,
you can never be forgiven."
Illidan was quick to open his mouth, no doubt ready to defend himself, but Malfurion was quicker to raise a hand before him, speaking again immediately. "However, you saved the life of my love. For that I will let you go. But, should you ever threaten my people again…" The rest of that sentence went without saying. Malfurion watched blankly as his twin gave a sharp nod, clearly affected by the weight of his horns.
"I understand, brother," he said assuredly. "Thank you. And…" Pausing, he stole one final look at Tyrande, in all her radiance, but it was not with resentment or even remorse. "Take care of her."
In spite of the whole situation, Malfurion allowed a small smirk of his own. "Haven't I always?"
From her place at his side, Tyrande scoffed. "I am more than capable of taking care of myself," she retorted, and for those few blissful seconds, it was like they were children all over again. But those seconds soon passed, and they all knew that it was long past time to stop clinging to the memories.
"Goodbye, then," Illidan murmured. "I doubt our paths will cross again from where I am going." Turning from them then, he gave a short flick of his wrist, the atmosphere shifting as the portal reappeared, and without so much as a single backward glance, he vanished into the unknown.
Tyrande felt the hot sting of tears in her eyes, the threat of them causing her throat to constrict. "So that's the end, then?" She asked hoarsely. "What shall we do-"
"What have you done?!" The desperately frantic cry of sheer horror destroyed the last serenity of the moment, the surrealism that seemed to have settled in around them. With a frown, Tyrande whirled around to find the source of the shouted words barreling towards them with a murderous expression etched into her features.
The High Priestess felt her own hands ball into fists, cheeks ablaze with her inner fires as she glared at the Warden with all the loathing she could muster. "Shadowsong," she hissed. "How dare you accuse us of anything, when you left me for dead-"
Maiev had barely a glance in her direction to spare as she stopped before the portal, flanked by her Watchers. "Have you no sense of justice?" She screeched, her glowing eyes flitting to Malfurion's own stoic and composed face.
"Warden Shadowsong, calm yourself, please," he said simply, evenly.
If she had heard him at all, she gave no indication. "How could you let him go?" She demanded of the Druid. "That was my decision to make. Were you not the one that ordered him into my charge in the first place? You had no right!"
Her frustration getting the better of her, Tyrande narrowed her eyes at the younger woman. "Illidan has atoned for his crimes. Can you say the same?"
Baring her teeth, Maiev's gaze shifted from Tyrande to Malfurion, and then to the portal that had yet to close. She found herself standing at the edge of some great emotional cliff, in which her options were clear. She could either to turn back, to walk away and lay this part of her life to rest forever, find some new purpose and drive to motivate her through her meaningless life, or she just dive headlong into the unknown, and finish the task that she had been granted or perish in her attempts.
She didn't even hesitate in choosing the jump. Sucking in a greedy breath and steeling herself for whatever might come next, she threw a pointed glare at Tyrande. "I do this for the protection of our people. Can you say the same?"
The High Priestess let out a small sigh, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. "I had hoped that we were past all of this, Warden."
But Maiev was quick to shake her head. "No," she replied. "It'll never be over, not until he is dead." And with that, she lunged forward into the portal, swallowed up by the swirling colors and disappearing into the abyss.
"Mistress!" Cordana gasped out. She took a quick step forward, but Malfurion grabbed onto her arm to hold her back.
"Cordana," he said softly, "don't damn yourself by her choices."
But she shook him off without a second thought, glancing back desperately at the other Watchers. "We too swore a binding oath," she reminded them. She didn't bother waiting for a reply before following Maiev through the portal. One by one, the others trailed behind her, until the last of the Watchers had gone, and the portal closed behind them.
In the silence that followed, Tyrande could think of nothing more to do than glance helplessly at her husband. The Druid heaved a great sigh, shouldered slumped as he met her gaze. "It's no use, Tyrande. She has become vengeance itself, bound forever to the hunt. I only pray that in her zeal, she doesn't cause even more havoc than Illidan."
Nodding numbly, the priestess turned away, wrapping her arms around herself as a shiver moved down her spine. She felt strangely empty, like all that they had worked to do was finally finished and now there was nothing left to fight for. Still, if there was one lesson that she had learned in all her years, it was that the battle was never truly over, and more danger would always come to find them.
...
None of them dared speak until they had returned to camp. Once the others were assured that all was well, Tyrande sought out the elven prince, found him sitting cross legged beside a fire, Rommath at his side as always.
"Prince Kael'thas," she greeted, when he had risen to his feet. "Your aid has been a great help to us all. Is there anything more we can offer to your people?"
The blonde lifted his shoulder in a slight shrug. "You have already done more than I dared to ask," he replied evenly. "My people's struggle is our own. I pray in time we will find the solution to our afflictions."
With a faint smile of appreciation, she bowed her head slightly in a show of respect. "May Elune guide you, then," she responded. "Pray you have the courage and serenity to do what is both needed and just."
The prince was quick to return her gesture. "And what of you and the other Kaldorei?" He asked her then. "What will you do now?"
She threw a quick glance over her shoulder, spotted Malfurion a few yards off talking idly with some of the other Druids and Sentinels. When she looked back to Kael, it was with a grin, and this time it was genuine, if not tinged with the slightest traces of sorrow. "We will go home," she answered. "And be free at last from this whole ordeal. I think it's long past time to lay it all to rest."
