Black Rook Hold lived up to its name, as well as its reputation, in every sense. When the squadron had first approached the fort and the source of Lord Ravencrest's familial pride, Illidan had to admit that it had been impressive. The Commander had every reason to be proud of the place he called home. Now that Illidan was being led through the interior by a footsoldier, he marveled at the fact that his surroundings matched the imposing exterior perfectly.

The windows were comprised of stained glass which cast vivid, rich shades of color onto the plush carpet. With every step that Illidan took, his boots wandered into the territory of another shade, and quite frankly, it was beautiful. Even the carpet was magnificent, and he had to wonder how a military commander such as Lord Ravencrest managed to keep the hold so luxurious and well-kept. After all, hundreds of soldiers paced across these very floors. There was bound to be wear and tear eventually.

As he followed after the soldier in front of him, he noted that the interior had one flaw: there was no lighting. The moon's pale glow, shining through the tinted panes of glass, was the only illumination in the Hold. Sure, he appreciated the aesthetically pleasing aspect of magenta and violet prisms of light cascading into the hallway, but if he bumped into one more thing…

The soldier came to a halt in the opening of the third hallway they'd passed thus far. As he leaned forward, trying to peek down the way, Illidan raised a doubtful eyebrow. "Do you even know where we're going?"

At the sound of his voice, the soldier started and whirled back around to face him. His eyes were wide as he glanced back at the hallway out of the corner of his eye. "O-Of course, sir! I just...this is only the second time I've been down this hallway so..."

Illidan grunted in annoyance; of course Ravencrest sent someone who would be just as lost as he would—had he been wandering around on his own—to show him the way to his quarters. Before the commander had sent them in the direction of the personal rooms, he'd spouted some nonsense about having an important meeting to attend. He'd instructed Illidan to meet them in the planning room in a couple of hours and spun on his heel, disappearing down the hall on the opposite end of the main room.

The nearly instant dismissal from who was essentially now his commander had raised warning flags in Illidan's mind. Ravencrest had been so insistent on bringing him here to Black Rook, that the young sorcerer had expected to be pulled directly into the exclusive circle of command. When that hadn't been the case, he'd been left to wonder whether this was truly a good idea; perhaps Ravencrest didn't value his presence and his abilities as much as he'd seemed to, when Illidan had played a vital role in taking down those demonic hounds.

When the soldier in front of him started walking again, mumbling under his breath, Illidan followed after him with less motivation in his strides than before. Resentfully, he realized that there was no point in stewing over what-ifs or possibilities in his head. What would happen, would happen, and only time would tell him what those prospects might be.

All he could now was wait.

Finally, the soldier stopped in front of a wooden door, with curved sides that led up to a pointed tip. He opened it and stuck his head inside to check whether there were any inhabitants. Evidently there weren't, since he pushed it open all the way and swept his arm in front of him in a dramatic fashion. "I believe this is your room, sir," he announced as he stepped back into the hallway.

Illidan nodded his thanks and traipsed inside, shutting the door behind him. He tossed his deerskin pack onto the floor beside the bed, before gracefully lying down and reclining against the wall. As his exhaustion caught up with him, his mind drifted.

His first thoughts were of Lord Ravencrest's behavior since they'd arrived at Black Rook. A wave of displeasure swept over him and the corner of his lip curled up into a sneer. He'd never been one to simply lie down and accept whatever fate threw at him. However, he wasn't stupid. He knew enough to recognize that sometimes, the smarter decision was to step back and let the other pieces on the board carry out their moves as you observed. Then, with the newfound knowledge that came with your observation, you could act.

Because of the unusual amber shade of his eyes, he was no stranger to foretelling and predictions. From the time he'd been old enough to speak, he'd understood that he'd been destined for great things. After all, it was all he ever heard. Before his parents had left this world, his father said something to him that had stayed with him since: "Your destiny does not wait for you, Illidan. You must rise up to meet it."

It was one of the few things he'd ever said to Illidan specifically, and not to Malfurion as well.

Of course he loved his brother, but being a twin was difficult. There was no sense of identity, no real idiosyncratic difference—at least, not to others' eyes. If one brother succeeded in something, then the other likely would as well. Especially because so many of them believed that Illidan could excel in anything, simply because of the prophetic color of his eyes. So when Illidan hadn't taken to druidism like Malfurion had, it had been...frustrating to say the least. Every time he failed in a lesson, his father's words would echo throughout his mind. He had felt so torn between supporting his brother, and following his father's advice and finding his own path.

Now that he had, he was elated. But it didn't seem like anyone else understood. Tyrande had never made her disdain for Night Elven sorcery a secret, and though Malfurion encouraged Illidan to study what he loved, he clearly lived and breathed the lifestyle of a druid; he was truly a lover of nature through and through.

Oddly enough, the one person who'd been truly happy for him, was someone he'd only known for a couple of months—an incredibly short time in the eyes of a Night Elf.

When he'd told Tyrande of his advancement under Lord Ravencrest, he hadn't been able to contain his excitement. It had boiled over and he couldn't stop himself from telling her right then and there. Nor could he stop himself from confessing his thus far unrequited love for her. Her response however, had been rather lackluster. At the time, he hadn't paid much attention to it, considering he felt like he was still floating up in the stars. Now that he had a chance to reflect back on it, he remembered her strained smile and her almost disappointed expression. He clenched his hands into fists as a wave of emotion swept over him at the mental image. It wasn't necessarily a sense of disappointment—more so that he had hoped for a different, more positive reaction after waiting so long to confess to her. He'd expected a smile, or words of encouragement, and all he'd received back was...nothing. He felt like a child thinking that it it "hurt his feelings" but to be frank, his pride was smarting; perhaps it was disappointment.

Then there was Eliana and her unexpected response.

Her soft, encouraging smile had been genuine. Illidan swore that he could practically feel her goodwill drifting over to him, lifting him up and inspiring him to be a better version of himself. Though Tyrande seemed to have smiled by default—as if she'd expected his words and didn't find them pleasing in the slightest—Eliana was exactly the opposite. She seemed...truly happy for him, happy that he'd found his calling in life. In fact, she'd said as much.

The contrasting reactions from one of his closest friends and the woman he loved, to a newly acquainted friend were stark. All in all, Illidan found himself more confused about that entire moment than he did about the current one. His reflections left him with more questions than he'd had immediately after he'd left with Lord Ravencrest. Why was Tyrande so upset that he'd chosen the path of a sorcerer and joined the battalion? Someone had to step up and protect their home from whatever it was that had invaded their land, and he'd never hidden the fact that he didn't quite take to druidism—she'd been present at their lessons, so she would've known that better than anyone else. In addition to that, why did Eliana's smile and encouragement send shockwaves of joy coursing through him? When had that started to happen and when had he begun to seek out her approval? What did it all mean?

Shouts from outside his door interrupted his musing and he swung his legs over the bed, making his way across the room. When he opened the door, he stuck his head out into the hall, his eyebrows raised. A soldier sped past, nearly clipping Illidan in the face with his armor strap, and he reeled back, cursing under his breath.

"What in Elune's name is going on?" he whispered to himself.

As he stood there watching the soldier disappear down the hall, the clanking sound of armor reached his ears and he looked back in the other direction, only to spot yet another soldier sprinting past. This time, after the second soldier rounded the corner, Illidan stepped out into the hall and shut his door behind him. He jogged after them and since he was following someone who actually knew where they were going, he was back in the main hall in no time.

The entire room was filled to the brim with elves; some were standing along the perimeter of the room, while others were running in every direction. Illidan had to edge between a few of the soldiers as he made his way towards the front of the room, where Lord Ravencrest stood in all of his caped and plumed glory. Even from across the way, the commander's presence was demanding.

When he approached the front of the throng, he spotted a familiar mane of navy hair that was streaked through with ebony lowlights. He only knew of one male elf who had a similar shade of hair to Tyrande, and that was Cytheas.

Illidan found himself reflexively tensing at the male's appearance, and when Cytheas heard Illidan's footsteps nearing, he turned. His silver eyes narrowed when they landed on the young sorcerer and he didn't say anything, choosing instead to face Lord Ravencrest again. It wasn't until Illidan sidled up to Cytheas—brushing his shoulder none-too-gently against the soldier's pauldron—that the other male spoke.

"Illidan."

Illidan kept his eyes trained on Lord Ravencrest when he replied, "Cytheas."

The two males remained silent for a few seconds until Cytheas, in a rather abrasive tone, asked, "What are you doing here?"

"Why don't you ask your commander?" Illidan sniped, and Cytheas' upper lip curled in thinly disguised disdain.

"I imagine he will have more important things to worry about—especially in a few seconds," Cytheas muttered and Illidan finally looked at the other male, his eyebrows drawn together in confusion.

"What do you mean?" Illidan pressed.

Cytheas' tight expression was now tainted with a hint of smugness and a pall of dread settled over Illidan—nothing good could come out of Cytheas' mouth next.

"The beast has been sighted."

Those four words affected Illidan more than he could've ever imagined. Instantly, he broke out into a cold sweat and clenched his hands into tight fists, his jaw mirroring his tense posture. "Has he…" he trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

Did they spot Malfurion, then? If so...how will we...is he doomed?

Cytheas nodded. "Indeed. That is why I've returned: to report to Lord Ravencrest so that we may send out a unit to intercept them."

"Them? The beast didn't work alone, then?" Illidan played along, trying to goad Cytheas into telling him more information without giving himself away.

"No, he did not," Cytheas replied, his every word dripping with superiority. It was as if he knew he held the upper hand and wasn't afraid to use it against Illidan.

Unfortunately, Illidan knew that to be more true than he would've liked.

It was then that Lord Ravencrest called out to the room, demanding for all of the soldiers to stand at attention. All of them but Illidan snapped their heels together and about-faced, saluting their commander.

"It has been brought to my attention that the beast has been sighted—and rather close to the city, as well. Cytheas Nightfeather has graciously offered to lead the unit that will capture the beast and his accomplices," Ravencrest announced.

"I'm sure he has," Illidan mumbled under his breath.

Luckily, neither Cytheas nor Ravencrest heard his sarcastic remark and the commander instructed, "Five others of you will accompany Lieutenant Nightfeather. You leave in fifteen minutes."

At their leader's direction, the other soldiers in the room dispersed. Cytheas wandered away from Illidan and spoke to a few of his comrades, likely choosing which ones would be fortunate enough to go with him. Illidan narrowed his eyes at the other male, wondering how in the world someone as kind and caring as Eliana, could be so close to such a pretentious, arrogant male.

The sharp rap of a boot heel reached Illidan's ears and he turned away from Cytheas, only to meet Lord Ravencrest's gaze. He inclined his head in a respectful manner and the commander clapped him on the shoulder. "You'll be going with Cytheas too, of course. He could use your abilities."

"My lord, I—" Illidan began to say, until Lord Ravencrest interrupted him with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"I will not hear any of your protestations—you are going."

A strained sigh left Illidan's lips and Ravencrest held the young sorcerer's eyes intently, until Illidan nodded. "If that is where you want me, my lord, then that is where I shall be."

A tiny smile lifted the corners of Ravencrest's lips—Illidan surmised that he wasn't the type of male to smile freely, if ever—and what could only be described as a satisfied, smug expression, spread across his face. "Good. I expect only the best from my soldiers and I know that you will be vital in bringing that beast and its little friends back in no time. We'll see how it got free then, will we not?"

Ravencrest strode away in Cytheas' direction and Illidan's eyes followed, fixated on the hem of the commander's extravagant cape as it flapped behind him. He tightened his lips into a thin line and mumbled, "Indeed, we will. And what are we to do then?"

Thirty minutes later, Illidan, Cytheas, and five other soldiers were riding back towards Suramar. Every step that his mount took carried him closer to the beast—and Malfurion. Each time the Nightsaber's massive paws hit the ground, the force reverberated through his body, causing the dread that plagued his mind to grow. He clenched the reins tightly in his fingers. What would happen when they caught up to them and it was very obviously Illidan's brother who stood beside the creature? He held no illusions; that was why Cytheas had spoken so assuredly back at the Hold. He knew who Malfurion was, and reports of his appearance had likely reached his ears already. Illidan could care less about the beast. But his brother?

That was a different matter.

Though they'd never particularly seen eye-to-eye, it didn't mean that he wanted Malfurion at Lord Ravencrest's mercy. The commander was not known to be gentle in his questioning, and in the end, he and Malfurion were still of each others' blood. In fact, they were all that remained of the Stormrage lineage. He couldn't let his brother fall into Ravencrest's hands.

Up ahead, the silhouette of the massive tree that made up Malfurion's home towered over them. The waterfall in the backdrop provided a highly deceiving and false sense of security. All Illidan could remember were the days of old when they'd made their way to Mal's house to relax, after the brothers had a difficult day of learning with Cenarius, and Tyrande had her lessons at the Temple. Now, surrounded by soldiers who only wished to capture his brother, it was a stark contradiction to those memories. A tense, dreadful moment in comparison to happier, more carefree times.

In front of his twin's home was a wide open field, carved through the middle with a dirt path that led up to the rounded, wooden front door. At the moment, the expanse was empty, and Cytheas called for the squad to halt. They dismounted and sprinted over to the row of bushes that lined the clearing, ducking behind them to take cover as they waited. They sat there in silence for a few minutes, the pale glow of the moon the only source of light around them. After trying and failing to wait patiently, Illidan questioned, "What are we waiting for?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Cytheas glared at him for interrupting the quiet, and whispered, "Reports reached us ahead of time that they were running in this direction. We are waiting for them to arrive."

Illidan grunted in response and rested his weight on his heels. Cytheas shifted his weight from one foot to the other and they fell into silence again. After a minute or two had passed, and there was still no sign of Malfurion or Broxigar, Cytheas cleared his throat. Illidan glanced over at him, a silent inquiry in his eyes.

Tentatively, the other male asked, "So how is…" He trailed off and cleared his throat again, before he finished with, "How is Eliana?"

At the sound of her name leaving Cytheas' lips, a sharp spike of heat flared through Illidan and he found himself holding back from punching Cytheas in the jaw. It was an entirely foreign emotion to Illidan and he was left confused and angry, all at the same time. From between clenched teeth, he muttered, "She is fine."

Why is it that him asking about her well-being makes me so...angry? Perhaps it is because she has said that they are no longer friends; perhaps I feel that he has no right to ask about her…

After all, he was the one who overstepped the bounds of their friendship. Is that why I feel so protective of her, when it comes to him?

Cytheas hummed, though whether it was in approval or disapproval, Illidan couldn't say. A few seconds later, Cytheas continued speaking. "I haven't seen her since the Festival. I mean, I've seen her—I caught a glimpse of her the other day in the Square—but we haven't spoken. At all."

"I am sorry to hear that," Illidan deadpanned.

Truthfully, he wasn't. He felt for Eliana and the fact that she mourned the loss of her lifelong friendship, but ever since he'd first met Cytheas, he'd never exactly harbored friendly feelings towards the male. Eliana's recollection of what had happened between them, after she and Illidan had parted ways on the day of the Festival, cemented his opinion of her "friend". It morphed from apathy to an intense dislike, and the more time he spent with her, the less he seemed to like Cytheas.

Cytheas faced Illidan sharply, his eyes narrowing at the young sorcerer's tone. He opened his mouth to speak again, but as if on cue, the sound of the underbrush rustling reached them and rapidly increased in volume. Their conversation was forgotten for the moment and in a single, sharp motion, Cytheas directed the group to head to their left. Unsheathing their weapons, the five soldiers rose in tandem and sprinted off into the forest, with Cytheas and Illidan on their heels. They burst out into a small glade and in front of them, frozen in their tracks with their weapons at the ready, was Malfurion, Broxigar, and a red-headed male that Illidan did not recognize.

Cytheas pointed the tip of his sword at them and commanded, "Now, Illidan!"

The other male's shout startled Illidan into action and he raised his hands, channeling his sorcery into his fingertips. Warmth traveled down his fingers and left him in tendrils of red, magical energy, enveloping all three of them in a shroud of paralysis.

Once they were detained, Cytheas stepped forward and clapped Illidan on the shoulder as the sorcerer wiped the sweat from his brow—he was naturally gifted in magic, yes, but it still drained him quite a bit every time he used it. When their gazes met, Cytheas held Illidan's, his eyebrow quirked upwards as he complimented, "Well done, Illidan. Well done."

A/N:

Whew, sorry this chapter took me so long! It's a bit on the short side and it's mostly a filler with a bit of exposition. It's meant to segue into the next chapter where more of canon happens though, so it was definitely necessary.

You guys might've noticed that I deviated from canon in this chapter. In the books, Lord Ravencrest and a whole band of soldiers, including Illidan, are the ones who capture Mal, Brox and Rhonin. I chose to have it be a bit more intimate, with just Cytheas, Illidan, and five soldiers along for the ride. When they return to the Hold, it'll hop back in tandem with original lore. I also inserted a bit of creative liberty in reference to Illidan and Malfurion's parents. To my knowledge, they're never mentioned in canon and since they aren't around, I assume they passed some time ago. I wanted to kind of link Illidan's ever-present feeling of being outside the circle of his peers, to a bit of his past. Feel free to PM me and let me know if lore says otherwise! The next chapter is also likely to be in Illidan's POV. I enjoy writing for him much more than anticipated.

First things first, angelacm and Arenoptara are back as my beta-readers! It's surprising how much happier I am with a chapter when these ladies go over it with their fine-tooth combs.

Many thanks to racethesun, crushcommando, Bohmzawe, Terikel, skyblueocean, Nightlain, kyveli, Khaylie, and KHandFF7fanforever for the reviews! They really do keep me going. In addition to that, thanks to everyone who recently favorited & followed the story : 3 I appreciate you all so much!

See you guys next time!