Ten
"What the hell were you just doing with my nephew?" Vereesa screamed. Blind rage soared through her like a cascading river. Her fists twitched and threatened to reach up and knock Calia to the ground and continue to crush her until she was mesh with the concrete road beneath her.
Calia's face went white, and she took a step back towards the church. "I-I don't know what you're talking about," she answered.
The elf took the step back as her chance to advance a step forward at the cowering woman. Her hand violently twisted and shook as she accused, "Don't play stupid, Calia, you're far too good at it. My nephew has been to Hell and back, and he does not need a no good woman like you getting involved with him."
"Involved?" she gasped. "What are you talking about? I came to the Church to seek forgiveness, and your nephew simply introduced himself. I think you're getting way too far ahead of yourself."
"Am I? We all know how it goes. Cute guy meets a 'needs-fixing' girl in some random area and agrees to court her. Eventually they end up falling in love, and let's be honest that cannot happen. You are no good for anyone let alone Arator. I will not stand for it. My goodness, if his mother were here you'd already be six-feet-under," Vereesa preached.
From the abyss, Calia's courage seemed to refill her, and she gritted her teeth, standing taller. Her eyes narrowed on the elf, and her hands balled into fists. "What is your angle, Vereesa," she asked. "There's clearly nothing going on between your nephew and I. He was simply introducing himself to me. He's also the only damn person in this town to show me even a bit of decency!"
"Decency? Do you honestly think you deserve it after all you've done? You tried to separate a mother her child-"
Calia marched closer to Vereesa as the words left her mouth. "Her child? Oh no. No. Arzagos is my child, and I had ever right to try to get him back."
"The right? Calia, you lost all rights when you abandoned your child in the middle of Azeroth. You left him in the middle of a torn world where hardly any inhabitants are except for some aborms and wild animals. And besides that, you abandoned your entire family the moment your brother came through Lordaeron slaughtering anything and everything that looked at him sideways. It's funny, people use the term 'morally gray' as a term for things people don't quite understand, but you can't say that can you?" the elf seethed. "No, you can't. You are a moral disgrace. Not a single thing about you screams morality. You are a terrible human being, and you need to realize that and leave us to our lives. That means especially leaving my nephew alone."
Calia gasped and Vereesa shook her head and scoffed, " Don't gasp. Don't insult me like that. You know how terrible you are. I'm sure you've thought about it numerous times. I'm almost certain that's why you came to the Church of the Silver Hand. You came to ask for forgiveness, well if you didn't get you answers let me help you."
Slowly she began to pace back and forth and shook her head. "You cannot be forgave. There's nothing for you here," Vereesa said. "Now is the time that you tuck your tail between your legs and run out of town."
A renowned sense of self-worth seemed to rush through the Menethil girl, and it almost worried Vereesa. She had thought she was finally tearing her down, but now she could retaliate and the elf wasn't ready for that really. Calia took a couple more steps forward until she their faces were almost touching.
The elf could feel the heat radiating from Calia's face. Her breath was like fire as she spoke, "I won't be doing that. I'm sorry to burst your bubble, Ms. Windrunner, but I'm not leaving town like that. Not that it's any of your business, but while I was in the church the did Light forgive me. The fact that your nephew even spoke to me like an actual human being unlike the rest of you 'people' in town was just an added bonus."
She took a few more steps down the stairs past the speechless elf. Her anger seemed to seethe through every single word that she said. "While you're drilling me, maybe you should think about yourself. Do you think you have any right to talk to me about morality? I'm almost certain that you're not perfect, but no one is judging you about it and letting you go about your life the way you want. I think you need to let me do the same. I thank you for your opinion, though."
Vereesa spun around and seethed as she watched Calia storm off. Everything inside of her told her to run after her and beat her down like she was a culprit she had found stealing from the local cafe, but she stood her ground. Something she had said made her doubt herself, and she hated it, but how wrong was she?
Her head spun. There was no way she would let herself agree that Calia Menethil was right. She was an officer of the law. She protected the town from thugs, gang members, and other wrong do-ers. She was no immoral woman. Everything she had ever done was to protect someone. That woman, on the other hand, only did things to protect herself. Vereesa Windrunner was not like that.
Carefully she descended the stairs and rejoined the bustling city. She bobbed and weaved through every person that was around her. Her feet carried her towards her "office", but as she neared her racing pulse and throbbing vein in her forehead told her she should wait to go inside. Part of her wanted to talk to Turalyon about his date offer, but in the mood she was in, it didn't seem like such a good idea.
Quickly the elf spun away and rejoined the crowd of people and headed back towards where the church. A little longer walk would do her good. Perhaps it would help her clear her head, and maybe she would have a decision for her brother-in-law when she got back.
Brother-in-law. The thought seemed to stew in her mind as she stopped. Why was she even humoring the idea of going out on a date with him? It was wrong in so many ways, but-
She sighed. The way he made her feel like she was a person, almost whole again. He was great with her children. Everything about him was simply perfect and irresistible, but she wanted to keep telling herself it was wrong to make it all seem right; however, deep down she did care about him more than a person should for an in-law. What should she do?
"Really? Were you just speaking to a person about morality?" a voice cackled.
Vereesa's head snapped up to the balcony above her. Sitting there with her legs crossed sipping on a tea cup was one of the last people she wanted to speak to at that moment. The youngest of the Windrunners sat beaming down at her sister over a newspaper.
"My god. Sylvanas," the elf sighed.
Tyrande laid in her bed and simply stared at the ceiling. Everything that was going on didn't make sense to her. In thousands of years, nothing so terrible had ever come to the lands of Teldrassil. Even the handful of times that the Burning Legion had invaded and almost destroyed everything they held dear didn't compare to the pain she was feeling.
Her husband was dead. The one true love that she had in this world, the one thing she fought for most in the entire universe was gone. The worst of it was that it hadn't come from the one thing she thought it would be, their mortality and old age. No. It had come from something much deeper.
While there was no way to prove it, Tyrande believed that Illidan Stormrage was the reason her husband and his brother were buried under ground. She scoffed to herself as she realized that it had been numerous times that she had seen Malfurion delve beneath the Barrow Dens, but now he was actually lying under the ground for good. It was all due to someone she thought she had cared for.
I don't know how you did it, and I don't know why. Illidan, I'm going to find a way to prove to the people that you did this and make sure to bring you down from that seat of power. It is not yours, she thought to herself.
Slowly she turned to her side and peered out at the light that was encompassing "her" city and people. Despite the sunlight, she only felt like there was a darkness enveloping her fellow denizens. Somehow she needed to figure out how to bring them out of it and allow the wrong-doings of Illidan Stormrage to come out.
Every lead she had thought she had, though, turned out to be a dead end. Her prime suspect had been the most devious person she knew, but when she had confronted the late Queen Azshara she had stated she knew nothing about what had transpired. For some reason, Tyrande believed her. It was very seldom that if Azshara did something fantastic that she wouldn't revel in it and tell everyone that she knew.
It couldn't have been her, but who else could have helped the demon hunter? She knew there was no way he could have pulled this off himself. Her mind raced trying to find anyone else that would have a vendetta for Malfurion, or even have the nerve to help Illidan. Nothing logical came to mind-
In an instant, she knew who had helped him. That damn goblin! He was the one that was working with Illidan! It all makes sense. How he got the documents, the fact that the goblin was there at just the right time, and the clean up..
The priestess's mind drifted to when she had confronted the green-skinned abomination. She had seen him perched upon the sleeping druid's body repeatedly jabbing a dagger into Malfurion's chest. As she entered the only sound came from the blood dripping on the floor and the heaving sounds of the goblin's breathing.
Everything at that point had become blind fury. As he slowly turned around, his eyes wide upon seeing an intruder, she had lunged. They tumbled over each other on the ground and rolled until the creature was sitting on top of her. He grinned and as he began to drop the dagger towards her, Tyrande fidgeted her legs and brought them twisting around the arm holding the dagger. In one swoop, she threw her body sideways and they both tossed to the side.
As her legs and his arm moved to the side, she kept rolling and pulled his arm back snapping it at the elbow. The crack emanated through the Barrow Dens as did his screams of pain. Quickly she hopped to her feet, as he took a few steps backwards crying about his arm. She swore that Elune would have no mercy upon his soul, and as he began to speak to her, her hand snapped out. The hand had quickly grabbed the blade at her side and sliced through his throat as if it were butter.
She watched as his body tumbled to the floor, and in an instant the tears fell as she turned back to the bleeding body of her beloved.
I killed the only link. I killed the one person that could have linked Illidan to everything! Even though she cursed herself, part of her still had trouble believing that Illidan had been in on the plan to kill his own brother. The demon hunter was many things, but a murderer seemed wrong. She knew, though, that if she could find a way to take him down that truth would come out as well no matter what.
Gracefully she stepped out of bed and donned her silk dress that she normally wore. A walk would be what she needed to clear her head. With that on her mind, she stepped out of her room and descended a small flight of stairs until she came standing in the Temple of the Moon, and as she entered the area serenity seemed to rush through her.
The calming waters that poured from the statue of High Priestess Haidene caused a trail of mist to roam the temple, while the trickling sound made for an alluring tune. A rainbow jumped across the falling waters, and seemed to wink at Tyrande as she slowly headed down the hall towards the stairs that let to the lower level of the temple.
She bowed and greeted many Night Elves as she passed as this was the gathering of the Sisters of Elune. At this point, they were the only thing she had left, and even just seeing them was a breath of fresh air. In the darkest times, Tyrande knew that everyone was there for one another. They had transcended so much throughout her time, she knew that they could overcome the rule of Illidan Stormrage. She would take him down. After all, she was the reason he was roaming the world after so many years.
As she neared the bottom of the stairs another elf was waiting for her. The woman wore an elite elven uniform that was only given to those of high ranking generals. Her mauve skin matched the color of her clothing and seemed to complement her navy hair that she wore in a tail behind her. Her glowing white eyes seemed glow even more fervently as Tyrande neared, and as she did the elf bowed quickly and stood up while running to hug her.
"Mother," the elf breathed. "You've finally came from your room. Aside from the few times you left to speak to people you think were responsible for father, no one has seen you. Are you alright? Have you found a way to see if Illidan was behind it?"
Tyrande smiled down at the girl as she stepped back. Not very often did she call her mother. The poor girl must have clearly been worried about her. She responded, "My daughter, Shandris, it is so good to see you. I am sorry that I was beside myself for so long. I realize that staying cooped up in my room does no one any good, and to answer your question, no, I haven't figured it out. The one link I had is gone."
"I'm sure there is something out there. If Illidan was the one who caused all this, and it was some big conspiracy to become leader, he needs to be brought down. I will nock an arrow and do it myself. Simply say the word," Shandris stated.
The priestess let out a chuckle. Her adoptive daughter was always the type of elf to take initiative. That's why she had made her the General of the Sentinel Army. It still amazed her that the tiny girl that she had found during the War of the Ancients after her biological parents were slain by demons had grown up to be this hard-headed woman that stood before her. While they were also close friends, Shandris Feathermoon was still her daughter, and Tyrande was not about to let nearby Illidan-enthusiasts hear her speaking like that and take it back to him.
"Hush, Shandris, you mustn't speak ill of your uncle. There are many people in this city that keep him in high favor, and we would hate for him to know exactly what we're doing," Tyrande instructed.
The elf nodded, "You're right. Forgive me, Tyrande. It's lucky you decided to come down, however, there's actually a visitor here to see you. I told him that you weren't taking visitors, but he insisted and I almost had to run up and drag you down."
"That would have not been necessary, Shandris," a man's voice chortled.
Tyrande peered past the draping waters as the source of the voice came closer. It was an elven man. He wore dull brown clothing that seemed to bring out the light pinkness of his skin and the ears to poked through his hood. She could make out slight white wisps of hair contouring his face, and his yellow eyes seemed like they had seen battles and wars beyond his years.
"Jarod Shadowsong, it's a pleasure to see you after all of these years," she greeted. The woman knew well who the man before her was. Although a hero during the War of the Ancients he had soon placed himself in exile after he believed the druids to care more for nature than they did for their own people. He and the priestess he was seeing at the time left together, wed, and lived their lives together for 10,000 years even after becoming mortal, but soon after the Cataclysm his wife had been struck by an illness.
The rest of that story was ancient history, but she knew after he had reemerged, her daughter had told him she had feelings for him, but he agreed they would never work as she wanted to involve herself more with the elven society and he wanted out. Even though she had tasked him with a force to hunt down threats that would come to Darnassus and asked Shandris to help, nothing had come of it, and he had gone searching for them until he had come back when the Legion invaded. The fact that he was here now was certainly troubling for her people.
Jarod slightly bowed and smiled, "Ishnu-dal-dieb. The pleasure is all mine Lady Whisperwind." His head tilted, and he nodded to Shandris. "Shandris, looking as beautiful as ever."
Thought he complexion wouldn't show it, the younger elf blushed and smiled. "Thank you. It's been a long time, Jarod. What brings you back? After the war we had heard you were wandering Azeroth looking for survivors and trying to send them to Teldrassil," she questioned.
He became uneasy and answered, "I was. For some time. That's not why I'm here currently, though." The man fidgeted a bit and then continued, "Shandris, do you mind giving Tyrande and I some privacy for a moment? She can fill you in later."
Shandris quickly obliged clearly looking for any excuse to hide her blushing face. "Of course! It was great to see you. Don't be a stranger!" In a flash she was gone, leaving the two elder elves alone.
The moment she was gone, Jarod strode forward and wrapped his arm around Tyrande's waist. He kissed her cheek and then his lips moved down her neck and then to her shoulder. They both groaned, and he took a step back still holding her hand in his own. "It's been so long, Tyrande."
"And there's a reason for that, Jarod. What we did was wrong. We both had a momentary lapse of judgment. There's a reason I wanted you and Shandris working together. You two actually have a chance," the priestess explained.
"No," he responded, "we don't. She's a poor replacement for you."
"Stop it."
Jarod's thumb traced the ligaments in her hand as he laughed, "It's true. You and I both know that day you-"
Tyrande interrupted, "We both know what happened, when, and where. There's no one we need to rehash it for. And no one else needs to know, so you really need to stop talking about it and tell me why you're really here. By Elune, Shalasyr would be appalled if she knew."
Instantly her hand fell limp at her side as Jarod let go of it and stood back. A wave of anger seemed to have crashed into him. "You're absolutely right. You want to know why I'm here. That's exactly why."
"What do you mean 'that's why'?" she asked.
He answered, "Maiev needs to be brought down and I need your help."
A laugh escaped her mouth, and she felt ashamed the moment it did. "You want my help with your sister? Why would I do that? Have you not heard of the mess I'm in here? My brother-in-law possibly killed my husband and is now leader of us all. Your little sibling rivalry concerns me little."
"Because, Tyrande," he started, "we can both get what we want. You help me to bring down Maiev, and in doing so we can also hurt Illidan and possibly make him vulnerable enough for you to strike and bring him down. This is really a win for both of us."
Tenderly he grasped her chin between his finger and thumb and pulled her head towards him until their lips met. He seemed to suck the very air from her lungs, and as much as she knew she should pull back she didn't until he released.
"Do it for that one time," he breathed.
The tauren peered around at the towering buildings, the food carts, the miscellaneous stands, and the hundreds of people bustling about the cobbled streets and simply laughed. It had been years since he had turned away from Azeroth to focus on other destinies.
He has spent an entire fort night with his life consumed by the battle that tore the planet asunder, and realized quickly that Azerite and the lack of just simple communication between the races would bring it all to death. So in turning way from everything, he had found his true calling and looking around at what the last vestige of mortality held almost seemed to bring a smile to his face. He had jumped from a sinking ship, and had so much more because of it.
Laughter, cries, and greetings were thrown towards and around him, but none of it mattered. There was only reason he had stopped wandering the dead world and joined the living. He sought power. Wherever it would take him, and however he had to get it. It just so happened that the whispers had been correct and led him directly where he needed to be.
"'Ello 'mon! What can I be doin' for ya? Name's Astroll," a troll voice snapped him out of his trance.
Despite trolls being an incredibly tall race, the tauren could look this Darkspear directly in the face. She wore maroon and gray Horde battle garb and the only thing that could be seen of her teal skin was the area around her brown eyes and the ears that jutted out from her hood.
Behind her was a sign that read "Mayoral Candidates Apply Here", and he knew he had come to the right place. Being the mayor in a town brought all the power the man would need to enact his long awaited goal. He just needed to find a way to get his name on the ballot.
As he peered down and shuffled through the papers they wanted filled out, he noticed only two names were even being considered for the ballot. "Jaina Proudmoore" and "Calia Menethil" took up almost all of the tiny sheet, and he scoffed to himself. He had met both women in his prime and neither were fit to look over another group of people. Even more so recently, the news of their misdeeds had been whispered amongst contacts and found its way back to him.
"Yes," he cleared his throat, "I would like to become an official candidate on the ballot for Mayor of Dalaran."
A moment of silence sprout between the two before the troll heaved over in laughter. She grasped her sides and eventually spoke, "No."
"No?"
"Ya 'eard me, mon. That's not de way dis works," she answered. "Ya 'ave ta be 'avin a followin', and ya must fill out dis paperwork. Da paperwork den takes weeks ta be examined an' den maybe ya get on da ballot."
A flicker of anger caused the tauren's ears to twitch back and he glared at the poorly dressed troll. "Then what the hell is all of this about then?" he asked.
"Formalities," the troll responded.
"You did all of this for formalities when both of these women have had their name on her for some time now? And just no one at all can run against them?" the tauren questioned. "That's some democracy Dalaran has going on."
Astroll began to pack things into the boxes she had placed below the tables. "Sorry. Das da way it is."
With each pamphlet and piece of paper that landed in the box, it felt like a bread crumb falling away from the path he had made. Too much planning had gone into this, and it simply had to work. He wasn't the only one counting on this...
"Wait," he placed his hand on the troll's as she was grabbing the last stacks of paper, "can't we discuss this at least? There has to be some way that I can get my name on that ballot to compete with those two."
"I-"
Before she could speak, he interrupted her, "Do you really want Jaina Proudmoore telling you what to do for four more years? Does she even have time for Dalaran anymore? The past month or so it's simply been her and Calia Menethil going at each other's throats. Jaina has caused more drama than she has helped solve. Quite frankly I don't believe that it someone who should be leading. Besides, she has a child to look after, and I know doing that and duties as mayor cannot be easy on her."
Astroll sighed, "Arza sure's a 'andful, but Jaina 'as never really let us down. Tings are gon' well."
His snout twitched as she tried to justify the sorceress, but he continued, "For how long? She's already been mayor since as long as people can remember. Do they know what it's like to not be under her heel? No. I can help people actually be free and have a say in things that go on here."
"Wat about Calia, den?" the troll questioned slowly slipping her hand out from under the tauren's.
"Calia?" he snorted. "Calia Menethil? The woman whose only reasoning to come to town was to get back at her best friend and try to ruin her life? Yes, I think it would in Dalaran's best interest to put her in charge so that she can use that power and abuse it all in hopes of bringing Jaina's life to ruin. Astroll, do you even hear how ridiculous that sounds?"
The troll grew silent as she loaded up the last of her materials and sat each of the boxes on the table she was behind. For a few moment she simply sat and stared at the tauren, seemingly taking in everything that she had heard. Her eyes seemed to pierce into him trying to read what he was about until finally she retorted, "I can't. Sorry, mon."
Blind rage flashed in front of his face, and he almost leapt forward towards the unsuspecting woman. He could have punched through her chest in a heartbeat and left her there in the pile of papers that she refused to let him sign before anyone even noticed what was going on; however, that would have set him even farther back in his plan and no one could afford that.
Instead he grasped the violet knapsack at his side and dropped it onto the table. The weight of the contents caused the table in front of the two to collapse in on itself. Astroll gasped and jumped backwards as the tauren sneered.
"Perhaps this will change your mind. 5 million gold pieces. It's yours so long as you put my name on that ballot for people to vote. And it better be soon, from what I hear the election ends shortly before Winter's Veil and I believe that's coming up soon," he offered. "So, do we have a deal?"
The troll stood her mouth agape and inched her head up and down. "Aye, mon," she breathed. "Wat's da name?"
As he turned around to walk way, he peered over his shoulder and smiled at her, "Gidora."
Yrel raced past everyone as fast as a pregnant draenei could. Her hooves carried her around, behind, and even straight through each person that stood in her way. Something was awaiting her at her home, and she needed to figure out what it was.
If it was finally an answer as to if she should choose Maraad or Anduin, the very thought made her feel so much better. Could it be that easy? Would there just be a simple piece of paper or something that would make the choice that much easier?
Of course not! I made this choice to lie! I have to deal with it and figure it out on my own. I can't keep hoping that a magical answer will descend down from above and make it all better. It will only get better once I make it better.
Heaving, Yrel had to slow down as she grew nearer to her home. Her heart was racing from sprinting, but from what she might find when she arrived inside. All of it made her head reel and quickly she had to grab onto a nearby railing to avoid falling.
"Are you okay?" a random orc asked helping her back to a fully standing position.
She placed her hand on the orc's shoulder and took a deep breath. "Yes, thank you so much. I think this is why running in general is a terrible idea, and even more so when you're a little over a month pregnant," Yrel responded.
The orc laughed, "Yeah. Running. Ugh. Me not that kind of orc."
Both of them shared another laugh as he waved and left her to herself. Taking a couple more moments to recover, she started again towards her apartment as it neared closer and closer. Her hands ran over her stomach and rubbed the unborn child within her. Soon all would make sense.
In almost an instant A Hero's Welcome peered above her, and she walked inside. After greeting the innkeeper, barmaid, and bartender the draenei started up the stairs. While normally it took her no time at all to traverse them, running throughout Dalaran, and the stress of the day made it so that each time she had to raise her leg, it felt like she was dragging it out of quicksand. The top of the stairs seemed years away.
At the top, though, a renewed sense of vigor took over. She crossed the hallway and whipped out her keys. As she jostled them around trying to find the correct one, her pulse once again rose. Her answers were behind the door, she just had to see what it was.
The key clicked and Yrel threw open the door to simply see Anduin standing with a look of shock upon his face. A brown folder was in his hands filled with what appeared to be a laminated piece of paper.
"Anduin, what is that?" she questioned nervously.
Baine. Baine? Baine! Why did it have to be him? Of all the people in this town or even in Teldrassil the one person Wrathion chooses to have a relationship with is my best friend. How did he think that would be okay? I can't believe how stupid this all is.
Anduin shuffled his feet kicking small pebbles along the road as he strolled towards his home. Just a few days ago he had been happy. He had been in the arms of someone who deeply cared about him. Everything was eventually going to work out of the best, and perhaps then they could have rode off into the sunset together.
As fast as it had come, it had been dashed by the same person. Wrathion had informed him that what they were doing is wrong, and all the while being with Anduin he was actually seeing his best friend, Baine Bloodhoof. It had almost felt like the rug had simply been ripped out from underneath him without so much as even a warning.
Maybe I'm not destined to be happy.
The thought weighed on his brain as he carried on down the road. Everything that had happened in his life, all of it, none of it had been happy. The entire duration of his life had been plagued by sadness and bitterness. Then the moment he ever saw a glimpse of something beautiful and real, it was taken away.
Or you simply let it get away. Or you ruin it, he thought to himself. Which was mostly true. If he could simply admit what he was, and if he could bring the words to light and tell Yrel, they could be together.
But I'm...not. I'm not. I'm not? Do I even know?
Everytime he thought about whether or not he was gay, it was always a question to him. The way he felt about Wrathion was completely real, and the only time he had ever made love to a woman as with Yrel, while picturing that she was a man. Was it that far off?
He knew deep down what the truth was, but saying it aloud was too much. It was frowned upon. It wasn't normal. There were too many people that still looked up to him, that would judge him, and that would find it wrong. Anduin wouldn't do that to them. He could fight against who he was for the rest of his life if he had to. And he did have to for the sake of his child, for his family.
Before he knew it, Anduin as reaching for his door knob, but as he did the thought of being way from Wrathion for the rest of his life caused his chest to hurt. His free hand reached to grab at his heart and a tear drop fell to the ground.
As much as it pained him, though, he knew that's what he had to do. No one would find out what they had done, or how he felt ever. They couldn't.
Slowly he turned the doorknob and walked inside, falling with his back to the door as he entered. His head slammed back into the wood, and he repeated the action a couple of times trying to beat his terrible thoughts out. As he did he heard a scratching sound from below him and peered down as a large manila envelope soared under the door, past his feet, and into the kitchen.
Quickly he sat up from the door and spun around to open it and peer down the hall. The hallway was completely dark, and he could clearly not make out a silhouette of anything, and he knew how much noise the stairs made so they hadn't gone down them. Who had put this here?
Hesitantly he stepped back into the apartment and closed the door, making sure to lock it behind him. Then as if being pulled by some magnetic force, he walked forward and grasped the envelope in his hands. It didn't weigh much, so he wasn't quite sure what to expect, but as he opened it and pulled out the contents it seemed to weigh more than a ton of bricks.
Anduin's heart stopped as inside were numerous enlarged Polaroids of Wrathion and himself in numerous scintillating positions in the weeks that they've snuck around together. Someone had been following them and was taking pictures. Why would they send them to his home though? Unless they wanted-
In his panic, Anduin didn't hear the door open behind him as the last person he wanted to see walked in. "Anduin, what is that?" Yrel asked.
"My god, Sylvanas," Vereesa sighed.
"Dear sister, do join me for a cup before just parading off," the woman invited.
An internal struggle erupted within her. It had been many years since she had even spoken to the woman she used to call family, and recently had spent most of her time dodging around the town so that she would have no interaction with Sylvanas Windrunner; however, that had clearly failed.
Inching forward, she walked into the tiny coffee shop next to her and headed up the stairs towards the balcony her sister was seated on. Begrudgingly she sat down across the table, crossed her legs, and peered at what her older sibling had become.
No longer was she Forsaken nor was she "alive" so to speak. Halfway through the war, Sylvanas's true intentions had come to light. As her plan to prolong the Forsaken's lifespan had come crashing down around her, the banshee queen needed to take a turn and find a way of keeping herself alive. The ritual she had undergone had almost brought her back to life, but had been interrupted. To this day, Vereesa still had no idea how it had been stopped, but it left Sylvanas changed.
Looking at her made the youngest elf think that she was peering at some comic book villain. One half of Sylvanas's face was the dark ash of her Forsaken life, complete with dark cloak and smokey ruby eye. The other showed off the vibrant pale skin and blonde hair of her elven years, the other half of her cloak a gleaming blue that shined in the sun.
Sylvanas took a sip of tea and placed it on the table and smiled at Vereesa. "Oh please, Vereesa," she sighed, "you're looking at me with even more disgust than you did when I was completely dead. Part of me is just like you again!"
"You will never be like me. Sylvanas, you gave up family a long time ago. This...this simply just made it even worse. The things you had to do for this ritual...I can't believe you can even look at yourself in the mirror," Vereesa snapped.
"It does take some time to get used to it, but the look is growing on me. Besides," the eldest sister started, "we were talking about you and what you've been up to."
Vereesa scoffed, "What I'm up to is none of your business. We are not sisters anymore. What I do shouldn't even be a flicker on your mind."
Slowly Sylvanas reached forward and took another sip from her cup before setting it down. "Vereesa, you were shouting at some random girl about being moral. I can't believe that you think you have the right to talk about that, sister," she laughed.
"What do you mean, Sylvanas? The joy of being the youngest of three sisters is that I can watch and learn from the both of you. I know exactly the difference between right and wrong. The same thing can't be said for the other two Windrunners," Vereesa retorted.
"Really?" Sylvanas asked. "Is it the right thing to do going after your sister's husband? Is that moral to you?"
Vereesa uncrossed her legs and stamped her foot on the ground. "I'm not going after Turalyon! There's nothing going on between the two of us. He is simply living with me for the time being while he finds a new place, and we work together."
"Yeah I don't think that's all of it, is it?" Sylvanas sneered. "Just the way you spoke there, getting so defensive, there's more going on isn't there?"
"No! Even if there was, what would it matter? Alleria left him. She left him to pick up the shambles of his life. I just so happened to be there to help."
The elder sister laughed at the top of her lungs. For a few minutes, she tried to catch her breath and when she finally did an incredibly serious tone fell over her. "That isn't what really happened did it?"
"What do you mean?" Vereesa asked.
"She came to me, same as you. Just because you and I don't talk doesn't mean that your older sisters don't converse amongst each other," she sighed. "Now exactly why did our eldest sister depart?"
The entire day came rushing back to Vereesa as she gritted her teeth. She remembered vividly as Alleria had come to her and told her the Void was threatening her and everyone around that she loved. In a panic, she had told her that she had to leave town in order to protect everyone, and she would have to make Turalyon feel like she didn't love him anymore so that he wouldn't come looking for her.
As Sylvanas drained the last of the tea from her cup, a sneer crept upon her face. "That's what I thought. How do you think it would go down if all of a sudden Turalyon found out the love of his life still did care for him and simply ran to protect him?" Vereesa shifted uneasily in her seat and Sylvanas continued, "Exactly. We both know that he'd leave in an instant if he knew that. So whatever is going on between the two of you, you and I know it's not morally right, goodness it's not even morally gray. It's wrong."
"How dare you!" Vereesa shouted which warranted her a couple looks from onlookers down below the balcony. "You don't get to speak to me about morals or anything. Look what you did? You started a war. You killed countless of innocent people. The entire reason Azeroth is destroyed is because of you not knowing what a moral is!"
"Vereesa-"
"On top of that, you witch, when all of that failed you jumped ship on your own plan and tried to find a way to protect yourself alone. And tell me, how did that ritual go? Look at yourself, Sylvanas. The kicker to all of it, is you lost the one thing you cared about most didn't you?" the sister screamed.
"Don't you even-," Sylvanas gripped the sides of her seat.
"To perform that disgusting ritual, you had to carve the heart right out of Nathanos's chest. You killed the man you claimed to love, all to protect yourself so no, Sylvanas, you don't get to talk to me about literally anything ever. I'm going to do what I want, and I never want to hear another thing from you. Ever," she responded.
Without waiting for a response, or for her sister to leap at her, Vereesa stormed back into the coffee shop, down the stairs, and back out into the city. Determination set in as she headed towards the Visitor's Center. Sylvanas had lit a fire under her, and she knew what she needed to do.
As the door to the office opened, Turalyon stared up from the paperwork he was working on, his face aglow. "Vereesa, thank goodness! I made a breakthrough in the Spookie case. She was indeed framed," he claimed.
"What?" she gasped. "How? By whom?"
Worry washed across his face as he flipped through the papers on his desk. "That I don't know. What I do know is that there were also partial prints on the weapon. Granted partial prints won't do much for us considering we can't use the machine to make them full and go through the database; however, it should be enough to get her out of jail and back into the arms of her daughter."
"That's fantastic! I can't believe you were able to find those! Turalyon, that's amazing!" As she finished her sentence he stood up, and they embraced as they normally did when a case was close to being solved. This time, though, Vereesa sensed something different. A spark.
She stepped back and peered into the deep brown pools that made up Turalyon's eyes. He smiled and she grinned back and passed her hand down his chest. "If I recall, we still have a date to make-up. Our shifts are almost over, how about we change and head to the Legerdemain Lounge and see where that date takes us?" she questioned.
from Jarod,
She appears to be leaving her home and on her way to Illidan. My other sources say that Illidan is currently in his room. You know what you have to do.
Tyrande peered down at her phone and began to type out a reply:
to Jarod,
I still think this isn't going to help anything at all. What if he doesn't even fall for it? This could all backfire, and it would take everything with it.
As the message sent, she felt herself feeling faint. She'd spent so long running around and trying to implicate Illidan in her husband's murder that she had barely had time to mourn his passing. Now she was going to try and seduce the murderer himself. The very thought made her sick, and she clutched her chest and tried to slow her breathing.
A beep from her hand caused her to stand upright and peer down at her phone screen:
from Jarod,
You can handle Illidan, Tyrande. If you plant this seed, we can grow this plant and sow what the plant bears afterwards. This is how we both get what we want. Who knows, maybe after we've ruined Maiev and Illidan perhaps you and I can...;)
She let out a deep breath and held her phone to her chest. Her heart raced and slowly she slid her phone into the pocket of her sequin dress. As she smoothed out the creases in her clothing, Tyrande slowly turned the doorknob to the room in front of her.
The woman let the door click behind her and peered at the half-naked man in front of her. Illidan had clearly just exited the shower and was drying himself off. Little beads of water still stuck to his chiseled arms and back, and his jet-black hair hung in shambles all around.
Rage build up inside of her. Her husband's murderer stood so nonchalant and it angered her. Tyrande's hand moved towards the dagger she kept at her hip. It would be so easy to plunge it between his shoulder-blades and make it all go away, but as she did Illidan spun around and she knew it was show-time.
"Tyrande? What are you doing here?" he gasped.
In an instant she leaned seductively against the door frame, and grinned back at the demon hunter. "I'm here for you, Illidan," she whispered.
"I really don't have time for this. I'm done with all of it, Tyrande. The accusations, the threats, the looking into things I've done, I simply don't want to do it anymore so before you go off on another tangent-"
"Illidan, I'm here for you," Tyrande breathed.
His face contorted into confusion and an exasperated laugh escaped his lips. "What are you talking about? I'm gonna have to ask you to leave," Illidan advised.
Gingerly she pressed herself off the frame and provocatively started towards Illidan, running her hands down her body. She could feel the goosebumps crawling up her arms as she got closer to him. The entirety of her body convulsed at the thought of being with the scum of the earth. She knew, however, that this is something that had to happen and there is one thing she could do. Tyrande could bring Illidan to his knees.
"What are you doing?" he asked as he tossed his towel aside.
"For so long I tried to deny my feelings for you. I pushed them aside, and I even convinced myself that I was in love with your brother. I spent all these years with Malfurion, and trying my best not to look your way," she started. When she came nearer, her hand moved up from his waist to his chest and then her index finger wound its way back down the contours and lines that sculpted his body. "Now that my 'beloved' is gone all of my feelings for you seemed to come rushing back like a dam breaking loose."
Quickly he stepped back from her and grabbed her hand in mid-air. He snapped, "Stop. You've spent the last couple weeks telling me how you're going to prove that I did something to my brother to take control of Teldrassil. Now all of a sudden you show up uninvited and trying to confess some long-forgotten feelings? Tyrande, I know you, and I don't believe you. This is some sort of act. You need to leave."
The priestess clenched her teeth and somehow forced it into a smile. She grasped his hands in her own and pulled them around her waist. Although her gut wrenched she laughed, "Illidan, I didn't know what I was saying. I was grieving. Someone had murdered someone close to me and I simply needed someone to take it out on."
"So you decided to place it on someone you claim to care about? You're smarter than this, Tyrande," Illidan scoffed.
Her mind raced. She could feel him slipping away, and Tyrande knew she had to reel him back in especially as she was sure Maiev was close to walking in on them. She agreed with Illidan on one thing, the elven leader was smarter than this and something had to be done.
Casually Tyrande's hands motioned up and cupped Illidan's face in them. She peered into his golden eyes as he gazed into her beaming blue and sighed at her. "Dear, if I came at you and tried to paint you as a murderer, the town would have no idea I secretly had feelings for my brother-in-law. I did what I had to do. You told me I was smarter than that, Illidan Stormrage, and you're right I am. I wasn't about to let people start whispering about what a harlot I was for going into the arms of my husband's brother. So I created a diversion and here we are."
Illidan's face softened as she moved her thumbs back and forth across his cheeks. So badly Tyrande wanted to simply peel the skin from under her fingers, but instead she grasped his head and pulled him towards her and brought her lips down on his. Fire burned within her veins as she kissed her brother-in-law, and she quickly felt him giveaway to the kiss. Her arms reached up and wrapped themselves around his neck and just as they did the door behind them opened, and Illidan ripped himself away.
The pair peered over as Maiev stood in the doorway, her entire face covered in shock, the muffins she had been carrying barreling to the floor. Tyrande could tell her entire world was collapsing down around her. Somehow it pleased her and a smile crossed her face.
"Maiev? Maiev! No this isn't-," Illidan started, but in a flash she sprinted down the ramp and out of sight with the demon hunter hot on her heels.
Tyrande remained in the room a smug look of self-righteousness upon her face. Her finger traced her lips as she grew even more giddy. "That's only just the beginning. Illidan Stormrage, you don't even know what is about to hit you."
"Anduin, what is that?" Yrel questioned.
Panic coursed through his body as he quickly whipped the photos behind his back and faced the draenei. Anduin took a step back and took a deep breath. He forced a smile and greeted, "Yrel, baby, what are you doing home so early?"
"Don't do that. Don't try to change the subject. What is that behind your back?" she asked.
He shifted uneasily back and forth. Everything would come crumbling down if Yrel saw what was in the folder. How could he possibly hide it from her now, though? She had seen it. The woman knew that he had something and clearly was trying to keep it from her.
She can't see these. I'll lose everything. I have to trick her somehow? But how? Anduin thought to himself.
"Listen, if you can't tell me what they are I can just look at them myself," Yrel stated and reached forward for the photos.
Anduin quickly jumped backwards. "No!" he shouted. " You can't see what's in here!"
"Why not?" Yrel asked.
"Because," he started but then stopped. He wasn't sure what he could possible say to veer her off his case. Maybe this was how it all had to go down. Maybe this was how she was supposed to find out the truth.
"Ah!" Yrel seethed as she reached towards her stomach.
"What is it?" Anduin asked taking a step forward.
She answered, "It's nothing. The baby just kicked and I wasn't ready for it. Now, tell me what you're hiding, Anduin. We don't keep secrets. Clearly something has you worried enough to hide it from me and I want to know what it is."
An idea instantly popped into his head as Yrel moved her hands from her abdomen. "It's a surprise!"
The draenei sighed, "A surprise? What do you mean?"
"For you and the baby," Anduin continued, "I had some pictures commissioned. I know it's super soon and whatnot but I thought it was a great idea, but I don't want you to see them yet. It's a special surprise gift I have planned for you."
"Well you just told me all about them, why can't I just see them?" she retorted.
Anduin growled, "Because they're not ready yet. I'm not gonna let you see them until I know they're perfect, and right now they're far from it. I want this to be perfect. Please, just let me get these fixed so I can make this perfect for you."
"If you're not gonna tell me what's actually in that envelope, then I'm not gonna stay her tonight, Anduin," she revealed.
"What do you mean?" the king gasped.
"I know you're lying to me," Yrel began, "and quite frankly I'm not okay with it. Either you tell me exactly what you're hiding from me or I'm leaving right now."
"Yrel, I already told you what they are," he said.
"No, you lied. If they were what you said they were, you would let me see them. We could laugh together about how 'bad' they might be, but no, you're keeping them a secret."
"Why are you making such a deal about a gift I wanted to surprise you with? This is completely ridiculous!" Anduin shouted.
The draenei turned on her heel and ripped open the door and began to step back outside into the hallway. "No, ridiculous is the fact that you clearly think so little of me that I don't know my own boyfriend. I know when you're hiding something serious. This is one of those times, yet you're trying to play it off as nothing. I have nothing more to say to you." With a slam of the door, she was gone leaving Anduin to the photos in his hand.
He peered own at them once again and saw the numerous photos of him and Wrathion being together. Someone wanted to sabotage his relationship with Yrel, but who? The very idea baffled him. Anduin didn't have any enemies and he was almost certain neither did Yrel, but someone wanted to hurt them.
Anduin knew he had to hide the photos, but he needed to console Yrel first. Quickly he sprinted to the bedroom and opened the nightstand on his side of the bed. He placed the envelope inside the drawer and closed it, making sure to lock it with the key he kept on his keychain at all times.
A sense of uneasiness rushed over him as he peered over at Yrel's side of the bed. She was quick to tell him that he was hiding something from her, but not once had he ever thought that about her. What if she was, though? What if there was something she was hiding that was so bad that she felt guilty and was taking it out on him?
Carefully he flipped himself across the bed and stood in front of her nightstand. Anduin knew she kept the key on the bottom side of the drawer and slowly reached for it. As he placed the key in the hole, regret smashed into him.
Am I really doubting her? I know she has reason to doubt me. I know I did something, but am I so desperate to find something on her to make me look better? My goodness I thought I was better than this.
Without another thought, he turned the key and pulled the drawer open.
Yrel stormed down the steps and headed out into the dying night's traffic. The sun was beginning to set and the town was finally winding down. She, on the other hand, was more worked up than she had ever been in her life.
Katrana had told her the answers to everything laid waiting for her at home. She knew that the envelope that Anduin had in his had was that exact answer. How did she tell him that, though? The very thought her seeing a psychic and telling him that those documents were her key to everything not only implicated her in having a secret, but also made her seem crazy for seeing a psychic.
Why had he been so defensive, though? She had only asked to simply look at what was in his hands. Somehow he had made up an elaborate excuse that it was a gift for her. Yrel laughed to herself as she continued to walk. The psychic had told her they were the key to finding out the answers she needed, but he had made them something else.
What if they were actual commissions? What if those pictures were so adorable that it made me realize that Anduin was the man I was supposed to be with? My god, I just accused him of so many things. I should go back and apologize. Katrana never told me exactly what was in there. I should have believed him!
Abruptly she stopped and thought about turning around. Yrel felt in her bones that she was in the wrong. Anduin had been trying to do something wonderful, and she had shot it down all because of some ramblings from a black dragon. What was she becoming? She had so many secrets she was balancing that she was starting to suspect everyone around her.
The draenei knew she had to talk to someone so she quickly rushed to the hospital. Once she had passed the reception area she headed towards the psych ward. As she neared it, the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Screams could be heard echoing down the halls. How her best friend ever worked in this area of the hospital was baffling to her. It gave her the creeps, and she knew hardly anyone from town ever really visited here.
Hurrying her pace, Yrel headed towards Mishka's office. When she arrived there was no one around. Cursing outloud she headed back out into the hall where more cries had joined the high-pitched blood-curdling screaming that had already been going on.
As she moved down the hall she peered into the tiny squares that opened up into the rooms beyond the doors. The names on the doors seemed to peek her interest as they had been people she had once known, or had heard of. One of them read Blackhand, another said Lothar, and one further down read Jarod. She had known them all...once. Now they were in a psych ward awaiting treatment that she knew they probably needed.
Deep in her thoughts, she didn't notice when she ran right into a man. She peered up into the face of an undead. He wore forest green robes that still revealed the bones in his arms and legs, as well and accenting his pale white hands and yellow claws. Yrel almost gagged upon seeing that the bottom half of his jaw was missing, and scoffed as he was wearing goggles that literally screamed 'mad scientist'.
"I'm so sorry, sir," she apologized.
"Ah, good news madam, I'm in a great mood today! Allow me to introduce myself, I am Wardley Putricide. I take care of many of the patients here in the psychiatric ward of Dalaran Hospital. What can I do for you young lady?" he questioned.
Words failed her as she gasped, "H-How are you t-talk-"
"Talking? My dear girl after awhile of being undead you get used to not having certain extremities. A lower jaw is one I learned to live without and found a way to speak without. It was quite difficult, but I managed. Now what is it that you said you were doing here?" he asked.
"I-I'm looking for Mishka," Yrel stated.
"Ah, dear girl she's down the hall a little further looking in on one of our more difficult patients," Putricide motioned down the hall.
Yrel thanked him and moved on until she came to the area he had been pointing too. As she turned and read the door it said:
John Doe
Confusion spread through her, as she had never before seen anyone not remember who they were. Curiosity got the best of her as she peered through the window and inside. Mishka was talking to a man who was completely covered in a blanket except for a few locks of golden hair that sprung out from under it.
Almost instantly Mishka noticed they were being watched and seemed to say something to the man and headed towards the door. Once she exited the room and closed the door she questioned, "Yrel? What are you doing her?"
"Who is that?" she asked.
"He's our John Doe. We don't know who he actually is. He came wandering into town a week or two ago, and without the scanning machine we couldn't confirm who he was and he didn't seem to know either. Now he's claiming he's some man that was long gone from this world. Clearly he's confused and quite frankly I think he's a danger to himself and others," Mishka responded.
Yrel gasped, "Who does he think he is?"
Mishka smiled, "Yrel, you're my best friend, but I still can't break HIPAA. That's all confidential. How about you tell me why you're here instead."
The pair continued to walk down the hallway towards her office. Seeing all the different people that were here left her with so many questions, but she knew that she had came here for a reason. Something was going on with her and Anduin, and Yrel needed to talk to someone about it.
Rapidly she told her friend about what had transpired with Katrana, and how she had confronted Anduin when she arrived home. She continued on with how he had responded, and how she had swiftly left after he wouldn't tell her anything. The draenei watched for any sign of what Mishka was thinking, but in an instant she knew exactly what she was thinking.
"Are you serious right now, Yrel? You went to a psychic, she told you some mumbo-jumbo, and then you went home and blew up on your boyfriend? Does that not seem a little odd to you? Goodness I can't even imagine what Anduin is feeling right now! He was just clearly trying to do something nice for you and you took and made it this big deal. You basically shoved it back in his face and told him how much you didn't want it!" Mishka stated.
"I didn't mean to-," Yrel started.
Mishka interrupted, "Of course you didn't mean to, but you did. I can't believe you even thought that he was hiding something from you. And the fact that you took the word of a black dragon we all know has come to deceive everyone...you owe Anduin an apology."
Yrel hung her head in defeat, "I know. I knew that's what you would say."
"Then you came to the right place. He's a great man. He would never hurt you. Plus, isn't there something that you're forgetting to tell him?" she asked.
The paternity results she had gotten barreled back into her. She knew that Anduin was not the father of her child, but she was pushing it on him. Yet on the other hand she cared about Maraad who actually was the father. Yrel had been trying to tell Anduin he was hiding something from her all the while she was projecting while hiding something from him.
"I haven't told him he's not the father of the baby yet," Yrel stated.
"Exactly, and let me guess those results are locked in the nightstand next to your bed? You need to dig them out of there and lay out the truth. Only then can you come at someone else for being a liar," Mishka snapped.
Once the drawer was open, Anduin saw a tiny paper envelope on top of the other numerous objects that littered the drawer. His mind screamed at him to stop, but he still picked the letter up. If she was so sure he was hiding something, Anduin wanted to make sure she was being truthful with him.
Carefully he pulled open the top of the envelope and grasped the papers inside. As he unfolded them he noticed they were from the hospital. They were results of some sort, and he read further along.
"What are these, Yrel? Is something wrong with the baby?" he asked aloud. His eyes scanned deeper and deeper in the pages until he fell back on the bed his heart sinking to his toes.
"Oh my god. I'm not the father," he gasped.
Author's Note: I'm trying to write more. I'm hoping to have a chapter a week. It might not happen, but know there is going to be more work done on this. I have ideas in the works I just have to make them so it doesn't all come out too soon, and it's enjoyable to read. So as always R&R even if you don't like. I would love to know how I could fix something or keep your interest.
