A/N: I want to apologize a thousand times over for the delay. Being the idiot that I am, I volunteered to work like a thousand and one hours of overtime in the past week, and as such I've been too burnt out to write anything coherent. But on the plus side, this chapter is ridiculously long, and it was surprisingly fun to mess around with.

Let the record state that we are starting to reach the point where I am abandoning all hope of lore, and I just hope you are all okay with that. Send me love. I am in the final stretch here, and could use the extra push for a big finish.

UPDATE: Just noticed the duplicated scene, and amended it. Whoops...that's awk...

twenty one

The Eternal Palace loomed against the sky, the very walls seeming to glow in the light of the moon. It was still just as impressive and stunningly beautiful as the first time he had seen it, and still just as imposing. Illidan stood before the gates, doing his best to gather his composure.

He wasn't even entirely sure what he was doing here. All he knew was that he had spent the entire night wandering aimlessly, trying to figure out what he alone could possibly do to bring an end to this catastrophe. Maybe it was just sleep deprivation, or maybe he had honestly started a slow descent into insanity. Malfurion had suggested they go straight to the source, and that was what Illidan intended on doing. Going straight to the source, and finding a way to bring the Highborne down from the inside out.

He just hoped he could figure it out before the entire world went up in flames.

At last, he squared his shoulders, lifted his chin, and strode up to the gates. A pair of Highborne guards in full armor, brandishing dangerous looking weapons and scowling as he approached flanked the entrance.

"Halt!" One of them cried out, lifting his weapon menacingly and taking a step toward Illidan. "I should run you through for daring to approach the palace. What business have you here, rebel?"

Illidan held his hands up quickly, hoping the gesture might convey some offering of peace. He didn't bother to ask how they knew that he was- had been- with the rebellion. At this point, he could only guess that it was because whatever night elves hadn't been annihilated were assumed to be against them. "I have turned my back on the rebellion," he said slowly. The words felt like a sharp twisting in the pit of his stomach, validating and solidifying his act of betrayal to his people.

The guards exchanged a short glance, before the one that had spoken let out a loud laugh. "You really expect us to believe that?"

Illidan had every intention of saying that yes, in fact he did, but before he got the chance, the great doors swung inward to reveal a slender Highborne woman wearing a nearly nonexistent gown and an unnaturally predatory smile. "Illidan Stormrage," she purred in a velvety voice.

The dark haired elf swallowed hard, forcing himself to bow his head to her. "Lady Vashj."

Upon hearing her name roll off his tongue, her grin only widened. "I knew you would return to us sooner or later." Her gleaming eyes flickered between the two guards. Without a single word, both men lowered their weapons, standing down. When her gaze finally found its way back to him, she beckoned him towards the palace. "Finally forsaken your hopeless attempts at stopping us, have you?" She asked then. Illidan was surprised at how easy it was to nod in response. Vashj seemed pleased by this, and stepped to the side a little so that he could come to stand beside her. The Highborne's gaze traveled over his body pointedly before locking with his own. "Good. It's about time you got on the right side of this war."

…

Illidan swore that with each step further into the palace, his heart was closer to beating out of his chest. Vashj was leading him along, rambling on about something, though he honestly hadn't the slightest idea what she was saying. His eyes flitted around warily, memorizing everything around them. Every face they passed, demons that marched in perfect sync and eyed them cautiously or elves that murmured respects to the woman walking alongside him, Illidan forced into his memory.

They emerged into a corridor that seemed vaguely familiar. His mind flashed back to the last time he had been here, the only time, with Ravencrest. When he had met Vashj, and stood outside the very same doors that were before him now. The doors that led to Queen Azshara's private chambers. Each breath he took seemed hitched in his throat. He wasn't supposed to be here. He wasn't supposed to be standing outside the bedroom door of the enemy, the person responsible for ushering death itself to their doorstep. He wasn't supposed to be selling out his friends, his family, the people he loved.

But there was no time for any second thoughts now. Vashj took a step forward, her slender fingers raised to knock on the ornately carved door. A single second passed before a high-pitched voice called out for them to enter. Vashj pushed open the door with confidence, assurance that she belonged there. Illidan took a length breath, steeling himself, trying to muster that same air of poise.

"Your Majesty," Vashj spoke as she stepped into the chamber. Illidan remained where he was, frozen in place and wracked with nerves, until the Highborne threw him a quick glance over her shoulder, and he took it as the demand for him to follow. "This is Illidan Stormrage. He has turned his back on the last remnants of the Kaldorei, and humbly asks for you to welcome him into our ranks."

The room was dimly lit. Illidan's amber eyes scanned the shadows until they fell at last upon a tall, slender form. She was standing in the corner, her back turned to them, elegant fingertips drumming an inconsistent pattern out on the windowsill. She almost seemed to give off a glow all of her own. "Illidan," she repeated slowly, drawing his name out into an unnecessary number of syllables.

The night elf stole a glance at Vashj, hoping she might give some indication of what he was supposed to do, but her features were perfectly composed. Clearly, he was on his own. But then, he had known that in the first place, when he had stormed off into the woods, and when he had made up his mind to come here and turn his back on everyone that had ever meant anything to him. He was all alone.

Azshara clearly didn't have the time to wait for any sort of response from him. He realized that her incessant drumming had stopped, but her stare never faltered from the massive windowpane. "Come here," she said then. Illidan had no choice but to obey. He closed the distance between them, stopping less than a pace away, and for the first time she faced him. She was undeniably beautiful, and judging by the upturned corners of her lips, she was well aware of the fact. Illidan cleared his throat and, remembering himself, bowed his head before the woman who would be his new master.

The queen returned to looking out her window, leaning in slightly, almost longingly. "What is it that you see out there?"

Illidan frowned a little, but ultimately followed her gaze. Outside, he could see the Well of Eternity in all its splendor, its translucent surface sparkling, swirling. Armored demons were patrolling the edge and groups of Highborne were perched at each corner.

Azshara's features shifted to something else, something almost like adoration. "I see the future," she murmured softly. "They have already started the summoning. It is only a matter of time now until the portal is stable enough for our new lord to come through."

All of the air had left his lungs, but somehow he forced himself to take a great gulping breath. If the Highborne were ever going to accept him, to trust him enough so that he could find a way to stop them, then he would need to play along.

In a fluid, graceful motion, Azshara spun around to face him with narrowed eyes. Illidan stumbled back a step, entirely caught off guard by the sudden change in her emotions. From the corner of his eye, he could see Vashj visibly tense up. "Why should we trust you?" She demanded. Somehow, without ever raising her voice, she still managed to be one of the most intimidating forces he had ever encountered.

And yet, Illidan didn't miss a beat. "I will tell you everything the resistance is planning to do."

…

Shandris emerged from the forest into the clearing, bow in hand, and made her way to where Tyrande sat. Ash'alah was napping soundly in her lap. As soon as the younger elf appeared before her, her head shot up. "Any sign of him?"

Shandris shook her head, sighing sadly. "I am sorry, Tyrande. I didn't find a single sign of Illidan anywhere."

Tyrande sighed too, rubbing her fingers over the saber's fur idly. The cat had grown substantially since she had found her injured in the woods; that day seemed now to belong to a different place, a different time. She remembered how happy she had been, walking alongside Malfurion with little to no cares in the world.

Now, she could still feel the lingering burn of Illidan's kiss on her lips. She could still see the look on his face, the look of utter heartbreak as he backed away from her. She shouldn't have kissed him back. Not when she was only going to turn him away. Now, he was missing, and it was all her fault.

Things could never be simple again.

Sliding Ash'alah off her lap without seeming to disturb the cat at all, Tyrande rose to her feet. At her full height, she had to look down at Shandris, doing her best to muster something she hoped looked like a smile. "Thank you," she muttered. "Go ahead and get some rest. I'm going to find Malfurion."

Without another word, she set off in search of the Druid. When she had come to him with the news of Illidan's departure, an amended version of the story, he had taken it pretty hard. He had gone into the forest to clear his head, and she hadn't seen him since. She couldn't help but see the irony in the fact that it was exactly the way his brother always calmed down. In so many ways, they were so alike. And for all her life, she had loved them both equally. But kissing Illidan had made her realize where her heart belonged, confirmed for her that, whether she had even known it or not, she had chosen Malfurion. There was just no going back from that decision now.

She finally found him leaning against a tree, his eyes closed. She hesitated before approaching, unsure if she should interrupt him, but ultimately decided to go and sit down at his side. Her head fell to rest against his shoulder, her fingers finding his own and lacing them together. "There's no sign of him anywhere," she said, repeating back the words that Shandris had said.

Malfurion let out a deep breath, opening his eyes. He tilted his head so that it was resting atop Tyrande's, rubbing his thumb in small circles over the back of her hand. "He'll be back," he said, but the words were lacking conviction.

The pair stayed like that for a long while, enjoying the brief escape from the rest of their world. Malfurion allowed his eyes to close once again, whispered a reminder that he loved her. The words stabbed at her heart as she recalled her kiss with Illidan, her act of betrayal against him. She pushed the thoughts aside and assured him that she loved him too.

At the sound of approaching steps, they looked up. Cenarius stood before them, his expression utterly unreadable. At his side was the green dragon Aspect, Ysera. Her eyes were half-lidded, but she smiled faintly down at the two elves. "Malfurion," she said in a light and airy voice. "We must speak with you about something."

With a look of confusion, the Druid pushed himself to his feet, throwing a quick glance at Tyrande. When he looked back to his master and the dragon before him, he gave a quick nod of respect. "Is everything alright?" He asked, the words laced with concern.

Ysera nodded in assurance. "Everything is fine," she said, without bothering to add, as fine as it can be. "We would like to tell you about a place called the Emerald Dream."

…

Within a few days, Illidan found himself utterly restless with his new accommodations. He had spent weeks on end living in the woods, hiding from the demons, struggling to get by, fearful he may not make it to the next day.

Now, he found himself lying awake on the first actual bed he had seen in what felt like an eternity, unable to sleep as his thoughts threatened to tear him apart. As promised, he had given Azshara any information he had to offer. He had told her of Malfurion's plans to destroy the Well. He wasn't sure why, but he had been expecting the queen to be more perturbed by the news. Instead, she had laughed at the very idea and waved the matter off.

Still, she had almost immediately doubled the guards stationed there.

Deciding to give up on the whole concept of trying to sleep altogether, he slipped out from under the blankets and dressed methodically. He made his way to the chamber doorway, pausing to scan quickly for any guards that might be passing by. When he deduced that the coast was clear, he stepped out into the darkened corridor beyond.

He wasn't sure where he was going, and he certainly had no idea where he was, but he just kept on going, trailing his fingers along the stone walls and tapestries. He tried to recall the ways Vashj had led him through, but the palace seemed an entirely different place in the shadows of night. Hoping he might be getting closer to the gates, he turned a sharp corner.

Right into the path of a broad chested Highborne. The man was scowling, but his expression twisted into more of a sardonic grin as he raked his gaze over Illidan, who was doing his best to keep his own features from giving away the shiver of fear running through him. Somehow he managed to jut his chin out and hold the other elf's stare.

"Illidan, I presume," the man said in a low voice. Apparently, the word of his defect from the rebellion and consequent arrival at the palace had spread fast. For some reason, he got the feeling that Lady Vashj had something to do with the circulation of the information. Illidan looked up at the man's face, unsure if he was meant to recognize him or not. "You don't know me," he assured him, sensing Illidan's trepidation. "My name is Xavius. I serve as Azshara's advisor."

Illidan wondered idly if he was supposed to do something, and opted for merely nodding in reply. Xavius was still wearing that same sickening grin. It made the night elf feel uneasy in his presence. "But that doesn't mean I myself don't know about you," he went on, slowly and deliberately emphasizing each word. He moved from where he had been standing and began pacing around the shorter elf.

"You don't know anything about me," he snapped in reply. The thought crossed his mind that he should not have been pressing his luck with someone obviously high ranking, not when he held such a precarious place here, and had so very much weighing on his shoulders. But he couldn't help feeling threatened by the way Xavius was circling him, a beast ready to take down its prey.

At his Illidan's words, Xavius let out a quick laugh. "I know enough not to trust you," he retorted quickly. They were words that stabbed him deeply, that twisted into his heart. "So, tell me then, Illidan Stormrage. What was the catalyst that tipped you over the edge? What was the final straw that made you betray your own people?"

Try as he might, Illidan was unable to stop his thoughts from straying to Tyrande. She wasn't the reason, not really, but she certainly hadn't helped with things. If only she hadn't kissed him back. If only she hadn't allowed him that only final flicker of hope, only to rip it from him so cruelly, daring to throw his own brother's name in his face like a weapon.

It may have been Malfurion's plots to destroy the well that set him off, but it was Tyrande's selfish actions that drove him to the lengths he had gone.

Xavius, he realized then, was still watching him intently, studying him, searching for the answers to his questions. The change in Illidan's demeanor was subtle, but it was enough. Xavius made a low humming sound in the back of his throat before speaking again. "Don't tell me. Was it a girl?" The way Illidan's gaze flickered to the side, just for a second, said all he needed to know without the night elf ever opening his mouth.

"Did she reject you?" Xavius pressed. "Maybe she found someone more powerful, more worthy of her love?" Perhaps it was in his head, but Illidan swore there was some twinge of resentment in his voice, like maybe the words were hitting a bit too close to home for him as well.

Illidan swallowed hard. He knew that the pain in his eyes had given him away, that there was no point in bothering to lie when his every feeling was displayed clearly on his face. "Yes," he said, hating how weakened and broken the word sounded. He had been denying himself the chance to really process anything lately, since all of his energy had to be focused on winning the endless war. Now, it all seemed like it was crashing down on him at once, all the hurt and anger and sorrow building inside of him in attempt to tear him apart from the inside out.

Xavius gave him what he could only assume was meant to be a sympathetic look. "That anger will destroy you if you don't let it out," he murmured, words so soft they were barely inaudible, that Illidan could have only imagined them. "It's a pity you couldn't just...get him out of the way. Take her by force."

Digging his nails into his palms so hard that he swore he was drawing blood, squeezing his eyes shut so tightly a sharp pain shot through him, he shook his head. Xavius' voice was this low, melodic, hypnotic sound that almost felt like it was penetrating his very thoughts. But he wasn't going to give in, wouldn't let those feelings of rage overcome him fully. Horrific visions flickered across the backdrop of his mind, of Malfurion's dead body tossed carelessly aside, Tyrande looking up at him the way she looked at his brother, her bare skin pressed against his under the curtain of the moonlight.

Illidan snapped his golden glowing eyes open. "No," he said firmly. "I will not."

Xavius gave a start at the sharpness of Illidan's voice. "Of course not," he said quickly, waving his hand as if to dismiss the idea altogether. "Forgive me if I have overstepped any boundaries. It was merely a harmless little fantasy."

The night elf turned away without another word, retreating back the way he had come, trying to block out the memories of Xavius' words dancing around in his head.

Almost as soon as had disappeared into the darkness of the hallway, Lady Vashj slithered into place at Xavius' side from where she had been watching in the shadows. Xavius stole a glance at her from the corner of his eye. "You are sure the Druid is the one, then?"

Vashj stood with her arms crossed tightly over her low cut dress, staring with cold eyes at the place where Illidan had just been standing. "My spies are everywhere," she replied, without bothering to look at him. "I am certain. The one leading the rebellion is the same that has broken our poor deluded Illidan's heart."

The Highborne man nodded once. "Good. If we can get Illidan to harness his anger, we can use it to put an end to him."

This time, Vashj did look over at him, though her expression didn't waver. "It is also his brother."

Xavius allowed a wicked smile to snake across his lips as he met her icy gaze. "Even better."