A/N: So, I don't play Horde, and I don't know anything about Orcish or how the grammar works, but I CAN tell you that the term of endearment used in this chapter by everyone's fave warchief is pulled from the wowwiki/orcish page, and "supposedly" translates to 'my love'. I just wanted to put that out there before someone was like 'waht are you doing'. If it's wrong, it's the wiki's fault. I DID MY RESEARCH, DAMMIT.

As always, my heart goes out to those of you that are still here after all this time xx -Skye

...

thirteen

Malfurion was no stranger to dreaming. He had spent the vast majority of the last ten thousand years trapped in an endless state of dreaming, one from which waking was nearly impossible. As such, he understood that dreams held deep meaning, that they could possess signs not meant to be ignored.

After the horrible scene with his brother, Malfurion and Tyrande had returned to Nordrassil. She was silent the entire journey, not even so much as sparing a glance in his direction. To say it hurt would be an understatement; in all these years, no matter how far from her he had felt, his feelings had never wavered. His love for her had remained true. But he would not allow that to deter him from his decision. He had been right about Illidan from the start. He could not be trusted. He had little interest in helping them, only furthering his own warped motives, whatever those may have been, and plotting against his own blood, his own twin, to try and steal the affections of the only woman Malfurion had ever loved.

He had gone straight to bed once they had made it home, leaving her to wallow in her miseries and her secrets, leaving her with little more than a muttered goodnight. But sleep was difficult, and he was restlessly tossing and turning for the better half of the night. When he did finally manage to drift off into unconsciousness, the dreams came. They filled his mind with images of Tyrande and Illidan, nightmares too real to be ignored or denied. His subconscious knew what his waking mind had not been able to accept, that whatever had transpired between them was more than he could bear to imagine.

Several times he woke with a start, and each time the dreams returned. When the sun had just started to push its way past the horizon, be drifted off once more. This time, the dream was different. Malfurion was alone in the woods, and the sky was ablaze with burning fires, and in the distance he thought he could hear the sounds of screams, but they were too muffled and far away for him to tell for sure. This scene was familiar to him, like the ghost of a memory that he had almost managed to forget, even if he could never truly forget that ancient war that had nearly ended them all.

"The Legion will return to finish what they started all those centuries ago."

The sudden and unexpected voice sent Malfurion spinning, searching the darkened depths of the forest for the source of the words. But he found himself alone, only him and the trees. Or it seemed that way, but after a second glance, he caught sight of a flutter of wings, inky black as a raven landed on the low branch of a nearby tree. Narrowing his eyes, he watched as it settled into place, its beady black eyes staring right back at him.

"I will not allow them to destroy my home," he said, lifting his chin defiantly, as though to rise to some imaginary challenge.

The raven on the branch tilted his head to the side, and although it never moved its beak he knew that the voice he had heard was its own. "While I appreciate and applaud your bravery, Druid, I'm afraid you will not be able to defeat them on your own."

"What choice do we have?" Malfurion cried, hating the way the words were laced with this desperation he could not deny. He had been trying so hard to keep it all together, but he could not pretend that he wasn't afraid everything was going to fall apart. The last time the Legion had attacked, the Kaldorei had found allies, without whom they never would have stood a chance. But this time, they were completely alone.

"Come to the base of Mount Hyjal," the voice told him, as though whatever entity it was that spoke, it could read his very thoughts. "And there you will find the answers you seek." With those final words echoing all around him, the raven lifted its wings, vanishing so quickly it might as well have never been there at all, and all Malfurion could do was stare at the spot it had just perched.

Malfurion awoke with a start, jerking up in bed and gasping for breath, though no amount of air seemed enough to fill his lungs. The raven's words were sounded in his mind.

He knew better than to ignore significant meanings of dreams.

...

He found Tyrande outside, sitting on the dewy grass with her legs stretched out before her, leaning back on her hands. She was staring up at the moon like it possessed all of the answers in the world, even those to the question she knew not how to ask, or was perhaps simply too afraid to.

"Tyrande," he said, her name a slow and soft whisper, lacking the usual emotion that it carried whenever he spoke it. She barely even bothered to acknowledge him, nothing more than the slightest tilt of her head in his direction. "We must go," he told her then, and this time she did look back at him, giving him a questioning look. Although she said nothing at all, her gaze prompted him to continue on. "I have reason to believe the aid we required to fight back against the Legion is awaiting us at the base of the mountain."

"And what makes you so sure?" she asked and it was impossible to ignore the edge of malice in her voice. It hurt him more than he cared to admit, to know that the bond he had always believed would be immortal, eternal, was now so close to breaking.

Still, he choked back that hurt and forced himself to meet her gaze. "I suppose you might say a little birdie told me."

...

They left immediately, at his urging. It was almost a full night's journey down the mountain pass, and he feared that if they move too slowly the opportunity would be lost on them. Tyrande was silent as ever, her head held high as her body shifted with each movement of the great saber that carried her. Several times he opened his mouth in an attempt to strike up some conversation, anything to break through the painful silence and ease the tension that seemed to have taken up residence between them. But each time he snapped his mouth shut once again and said nothing, afraid that any words would only add to the distance between them.

At the base of the mountain, there was a small cave, nothing more than a slight opening, and somehow without really knowing he knew that this was where they were meant to be. Malfurion dismounted his great stag, and Tyrande did the same to Ash'alah. But before she could make her way to the opening, his hand snapped out almost against his will to grab her wrist, tugging her back and holding her in place.

"Tyrande," he started, but quickly snapped his mouth shut again as he contemplated his words carefully. "Tyra," he tried again a moment later. She stared up at him with a blank expression, lips parted and eyes widened. "About Illidan-"

"Just leave it, Malfurion," she snapped harshly, yanking her arm free from his hold. "You made your decision quite clear. Who am I to go against your wishes? Never mind that it was I that led our people all this time, that held everything together and offered them the hope and strength needed to rebuild. Never mind that it was I who freed him, and put my faith in him-"

"At the cost of how many lives?" He retorted, his eyes narrowing in anger. "Warden Shadowsong told me of the blood you shed, the Watchers that you slaughtered all in the name of saving him. And yet you call yourself a protector? You lost the right to make decisions for our people the instant you began killing them just so you might see him one last time."

She had nothing more to say after that, and Malfurion supposed that he didn't either. Shouldering past her, he made his way into the cave, without even bothering to glance back and see if she was following.

...

"I don't like this," Jaina said, shivering a little as she wrapped her arms around her chest, a feeble attempt to hold herself together. She felt as though she might shatter at any moment; she had finally managed to get comfortable, to get used to her new life here, and the unexpected arrival of the prophet had uprooted all of that like it was nothing.

Lifting her chin, her azure eyes met the steady gaze of Thrall's. The orc raised a hand to rest upon her shoulder, gentle and soothing, a small reminder that she was not alone. It always astounded him how small and breakable she was, how something so fragile could contain such a strong spirit. "Be brave, ha rega," he told her, reveling in the smile she managed to muster as he moved his hand to the side of her face, his thumb trailing idly over her cheekbone, feeling the softness of her skin under the roughness of his calloused fingers. "We have endured this long, have we not?"

Jaina felt relief wash through her as she was able to draw some comfort from his reassurances. She raised her own hand to place on top of his, linking their fingers together, and for one moment none of the rest of it mattered, because they had each other, and somehow Jaina felt in that moment that, so long as that remained true, there was no foe they could not vanquish. She knew how unlikely an alliance it was, how forbidden it was- or would have been, where they still in the eastern lands. But here in Kalimdor, there was nobody to make the rules for them, to tell them what was right or wrong. All they had to listen to was their hearts.

Her lips parted then, though she hadn't the slightest idea what she might say to him, how she could possibly find the words to describe the feeling that had spread from her heart, through her chest, chasing out the shadow that had been there before. For as long as she could remember, her heart had belonged only to Arthas- now just thinking his name made her throat constrict and her stomach twist and knot within her, and she had to squeeze her eyes shut and block the world out entirely just so that she might try and calm her breathing. But when her eyes snapped open, it was to see Thrall's own cerulean orbs, filled with concern as they fixated on her, and she was able to concentrate on that until she had gotten herself back under control.

She started to speak, perhaps to thank him for the mere fact that he had the capabilities to keep her from shattering completely, but the sudden sound of footsteps ricocheting off the walls of the cave kept her silent, as she whirled around towards the entrance. She expected to see the prophet there, tired of keeping them waiting when he had been the one to call them forth in the first place.

But instead her gaze fell upon a lithe, slender woman, dressed in a translucent white dress that clung to her curves and her pale blue skin. "We don't have time for this, Malfurion," she snapped as she tossed her long navy tresses over her shoulder and glanced back at her companion. He stood tall in the small cave, taller even than the woman at his side, with thick emerald hair and a pair of thick antlers twisting up from his scalp. "What are we doing here?"

Jaina felt her brows knit together in a frown, her gaze flickering to Thrall, and then back to the newcomers. She had never seen this manner of creature before, but their ethereal forms reminded her of the Quel'dorei back east, and she realized with a start that these must have been the fabled Night Elves she had read of in the ancient tomes at the Dalaran library.

When the man named Malfurion spoke, his voice was low, meant only for the ears of the woman. "A raven spoke to me in a dream and summoned me to this place."

His words resonated within the human; surely this raven he spoke of was the very same that had come before Antonidas, that had guided her and Thrall both to where they were now. Without hesitation or a second thought, Jaina stepped forward, away from the shadows and into plain view, and said, "We have been summoned here as well."

Thrall's clear blue eyes darted between Jaina and the elves, startled by her boldness, but a moment later he too came to stand at her side. It was painfully silent for a long while, as the unlikely group stared each other down, a silence that was broken only when Tyrande narrowed her eyes at them. "You are not welcome here," she sneered, turning away and crossing her arms tightly over her chest.

Malfurion looked on at her with surprise clear in his expression, but quickly composed it. "Who are you, outsiders?" He asked, his tone far softer than that of his companion, civil and cordial, though still undeniably laced with distrust.

The blonde offered up a small smile, doing her best to ignore the icy demeanor with which the towering woman greeted them. "My name is Jaina Proudmoore, leader of the human survivors of Lordaeron." Her words clearly meant nothing to them, if their blank stares were any indication.

Sensing the quickly swelling tension, the orc quickly dipped his chin in a quick show of respect." I am Thrall," he answered. "Son of Durotan, and Warchief of the Horde-"

"Your kind are responsible for the death of Cenarius!" Tyrande interrupted, whirling around to face him once more, her eyes burning with accusation.

In spite of the twinge of sorrow that resonated in his heart, Malfurion shot her a warning glare. It almost looked as though he might try and scold her for her animosity, although a part of him understood why she felt it was warranted. But before any of them could speak again, there came a great rustle of wings as the raven swooped in, landing in the center of the cave. The four unwilling companions watched in varying stages of surprise as his form shifted, somehow slowly and yet all at once, until a man stood before them where the black winged bird had just been.

"Peace, Priestess," he said, giving a knowing look to Tyrande. His voice was calm, but filled with a great power and authority, and somehow even she knew better than to speak out against him, though her features remained just as fierce. Turning his gaze from her, he looked at each of the others, one by one, before finally meeting her silver eyes once again. "They have come to aid you in this coming war against the Legion."

Her elongated brows rising, Tyrande's gaze flickered between Jaina and Thrall. "Them?" She scoffed. "We do not need them." Not when they had come into her lands, the forests she had defended for so many centuries, the forests she would have gladly laid down her life for, and defiled them so. Not when they had brought the demise of their patron guardian, who had protected them and offered them guidance since the beginning of time. Why would she ever put her trust in them, knowing the horrible atrocities they were capable of?

Thankfully, it was Malfurion who spoke out, his words directed at the prophet. "And who are you to make us such an offer?"

The elder man held his gaze without wavering. But when he spoke, his voice held no confidence or self assurance. It trembled with uncertainty, and Malfurion thought he could see an invisible cloak of guilt and burden settle in around him. "I...I am the one responsible for the Legion's return," he confessed, bowing his head at last. "And I am telling you now, the only chance this world has for survival, is if you all unite together against the greatest enemy ever to threaten it."

His words hung heavily in the air around them, pressing in on them, the severity and weight suddenly far too real for any one of them to handle. Then, when a couple of long moments had dragged past, Jaina gave a single, small nod. "Okay," she murmured. Her gaze flickering to Thrall, she added softly, "I have already learned that allies can be found in the most unexpected of places. I will do whatever it takes to keep my people- and all our people- safe."

Thrall nodded his agreement. All eyes fell upon the pair of elves, then. "We will offer aid in any way we can," Malfurion replied, but at the sound of a small huff from his side, he looked to his wife, whose defiant expression seemed to be wavering slightly as her own stare flitted about the room.

"Alright, fine," she drawled at last, letting out an exasperated sigh. "But only because I refuse to allow the demons to desecrate these lands once again. If we must work together to obtain that, then...so be it."

And so, their unlikely alliance was formed, strangers and enemies coming together, laying the past to rest, all in the name of defending their home from the coming battles.

In spite of the asperity of it all, Medivh smiled.