Darnassian:

Dorei: Shortened for Kaldorei. May refer to a person (regardless of gender), a youngster and also can be used in plural.

Quel / Quel'dorei: Children of noble birth, also slang for Highborne.

Sar'thera: A pejorative, meant for someone who's considered irritating or exasperating. Slang: Sart(e).

Shan'do: Honored Teacher.

Elune-adore: "Elune be with you", works as a greeting and a farewell.


Stormrage

He wouldn't voice it in the open if not asked for in the first place, yet Illidan doesn't feel exactly surprised to hear Silgryn attempting to take his final straw in that never-ending war of schemes, lies and deceptions that seemed to surround the entirety of House Stareye for centuries, if not thousands of years already.

In fact, he's inclined to encourage it; even with Mylenne's—understandable, yet hopeless at that moment—near outrage towards the situation.

He may be an orphan with a brother as the only family left, but Illidan is damn sure if he'd be in Mylenne's shoes, he'd gladly end that pretense of a parent with his bare hands if needs be. If there's any breaking point for him, that's becoming a pawn for someone else's mere profit, family or not be damned.

A gleam of a certain deviltry reflects on Silgryn's gaze as he keeps staring at him, a set of sharp teeth showing behind his pleasant grin when he searches Illidan's face and finds he's pretty much fine with his crazy plan; no words needed for, probably, the first time ever.

However, the youngest of the Stareyes serve as a sheer contrast of their silent agreement, throwing her hands in the air. "Do you listen to yourself or is there some switch in your head that turns off and on and makes you not to?" Mylenne barks, wiping off her uncle's smug face as quickly as it came in the first place.

"Why, excuse me?" Silgryn shoots an incredulous look at his niece, fists clenching, "You think I'm happy with this? You think I'm enjoying it?"

"Yes, you totally seem like!" She counters, looking determined in not stepping back, the usually soothing of her silver eyes then blazing with fury, "It's my father you're talking about! Your Goddess damned brother-in-law!" Mylenne's remark comes with a frustrated punch on her uncle's chest, prompting Silgryn to take a step backwards with the motion—and some surprise as well. "He's family! You can't just—"

"It's precisely because of that!" With some impressive reflexes—even for Illidan—Silgryn grabs his niece by the wrist as fast as the blink of an eye before she intends to land a third punch, leaning dangerously close to her, "Family doesn't torture their loved ones over wealth and power!" He snarls, lavender face contorted in anger, nearly daring the rest of the group to face him if they happen to have the guts to do so, "They don't keep their children or mate locked up to do their biddings. They certainly don't beat them up if they don't do so!"

Illidan's stomach churns in indignation, holding back a growl, blood boiling up through his veins at the confirmation of what Mylenne really endured in her mysterious monthly absences and always kept strangely hidden. The same poisonous feeling clamps up in his throat as well, for he's aware that, somehow, has always ended up giving the Stareye patriarch the benefit of the doubt when it came to be something related to his daughter.

How can you blame yourself, though? Most likely everyone would shrug it off if word on the street came about Lord Stareye sauntering off another brothel, but something like that? Not even Lothrius would bet on that, and he always tends to bet on the most ridiculous things…

What he can assume from all this is, Lord Desdel might have been a simple warrior surrounded by powerful Sorcerers and prodigious tricksters, but at the end of the night, he's the one who overcame them all and ended up becoming the most charming of the Stareyes.

No wonder why Silgryn hates him so much—although it's, at the same level, pretty concerning his daughter doesn't realize that just yet.

Edging closer to Mylenne and getting on Silgryn's line of sight so to keep him from a further outburst, the latter merely glares at Illidan, although has the decency of letting his niece go, drawing a long sigh afterwards. "Family cares about each other and goes through whatever means necessary to keep them safe. Do you really think I see my so-called brother-in-law as that? After what he did and keeps doing to all of us?" Silgryn ponders, a slight sort of begging slipping through his voice.

Surprisingly so, Mylenne pushes Illidan away, startling the rest of the men with her erratic behavior. "Stop, stop! I can't take this anymore, Silgryn!" She snaps, angrier and upset than ever before, sending a sense of apprehension through him, "You have to stop being so obsessed with the past! None of us can change it!"

"The past!? You dare—" Ever the stubborn, Silgryn doesn't look like relenting by a mere inch, their discussion quickly turned into a shouting match, prompting the rest to stand there with an odd mix of concern and uncomfortableness altogether. "All I've done was for the future of our Household. A future for you, Mylenne," Hargo'then makes a subtle attempt to push the Stareyes away, yet Silgryn brushes the boy away as if an annoying bug, standing to his full height. "I'm merely doing all I can for him not to ruin and break the only good thing that's left of our cursed family!"

Mylenne doesn't show a slight inch of intimidation, sending a full-heated glare that would probably make the wildest of beasts shy away from her—the twisted voice endlessly whispering dark thoughts on Illidan's mind then basking in the view. Ha! The good apple never falls off too far from the tree, you see that now? She's just as rotten as the rest of her family! Oh, I adore this side of her…

"As if!" She barks back, the magic within her dangerously flaring to life, sheer worry overtaking Illidan's senses as he quickly recalls the last time he saw that happening, the hideous voice in his mind flickering off in an instant. "I never asked for you to do that! Why can't you leave me the hell alone!?"

Her uncle gapes at her incredulously, pretty much looking like he's about to tear his hair off. "How the fuck can you think I can just sit here with arms crossed and pretend everything's alright when I'm about to endure seeing the only dorei I have left being thrown into the quel den and set up on that pathetic pretense of a—"

"Silgryn."

Hargo's voice crosses the room as merely a whisper, yet somehow it makes Silgryn turn to him, snapping his mouth shut a moment later. The palpable tension in the air partially dissipates while the two of them just stare at each other in silence, a slight purplish glow flashing on the Officer's eyes, the rest of the group frowning in evident confusion. A shocking look crosses Silgryn's face, frozen still for what seems like an eternity, hypnotized, eyes darting all over Hargo as if searching something—strangely enough, as if a confusion spell has been thrown on him.

Mylenne crosses her arms as her uncle's face pales and Illidan feels taken aback by the abrupt change in his demeanor. However, he doesn't get a chance to ask what's in his mind before a pair of dull silver eyes find his, looking at Illidan's face as if it's the first time he ever sees him in his life.

Uh? What's wrong with him?

He staggers a little at Silgryn's surprised stare, cobalt brows cinching and blinking repeatedly before his gaze finally lands on Mylenne. "… Why did you keep them out?" Silgryn asks her in a very thin voice, barely able to make up a proper sentence, his shoulders slumping down and incredulity plastered all over his face.

Mylenne's eyes grow wide, a flash of a certain realization crossing her bright silver eyes, seemingly lost for words. "I—" She swallows hard, making Illidan beside her tilt his head in sheer confusion. "I just… had to…" Her lavender ears tilt downwards and back, embarrassment brushing away her previous blazing, fierce anger at a moment's notice.

"Is that so? So much for boasting about family, and you leave the real ones out?" Their shouting seems like completely forgotten as of then, leaving Silgryn to look at her as if he can't believe what he's seeing, dark violet brows contorting in sheer disbelief.

The dark voice of Illidan's conscience comes back to prickle at him, snarling and numbing him with doubt. Pah! And there she goes, hiding something from you once again. One would believe after all these years she'd stop with the secrecies. And yet, that looks like a family trait…

Before giving in, Illidan quickly summons the strength to shut down the voice of his thoughts with a hard blink, finding Mylenne's glinting eyes and searching her tense face for any answer he can manage to take off her. Right when she shies away from his eyes as if ashamed, Silgryn recalls her attention once again. "We need to have a real talk, you and I,"

"Except I don't want to talk," Mylenne cuts him off, eyes getting glossy as she evidently fights back some rebel tears, and all Illidan can do is scoot closer to her, drawn by a sudden urge of trying to wipe out that conflict plastered all over her face, her body language nearly begging for any sense of comfort she can have.

However, his worries and willingness to do so are replaced by a mix of hurt and confusion when Mylenne instantly flinches away from his grasp, "Don't drag them into this, Silgryn. I already know how that 'talk' is going to turn out," Mylenne frowns, jaw clenching and nostrils flaring in apparent frustration, "You'll be going once again with my so-called mother's legacy, with your attempts to make amends, and with how you or I are supposed to rule over our Household instead of an impostor because she just said so. And you know what? I don't want to hear about it anymore!"

A somber silence falls over them all as the only woman in the room paces nervously, looking torn between leaving or keep enduring that already exhausting conversation. She apparently can't help with drawing a tiny sob, yet is quick with rubbing her face so to swallow the tears threatening to fall down. "I let my mother go for a long time. You have to do the same, Silgryn… you must…" Mylenne adds, almost imploring.

She certainly has a point there, the voice within Illidan resurges, his mouth curling into a sneer as he silently admits the same. Not like he'd say it in the open—it's not his place, after all—but Mylenne's right: Silgryn's obsession over Aedriel Stareye has been the main reason why he's got them down spiraling into all sorts of trouble. From spying over everyone to spending centuries wandering around the Empire looking for something nobody can be sure if even himself knows what it is in the first place to, if accidentally, put his niece in danger along the way; everything Silgryn has ever done had his late sister at the end of the line.

And most of all, for what? Just to atone for the past? To have a guiltless sleep at the end of the night?

"So… That's it? You're just giving up?" The elder Stareye keeps as incredulous as ever before, looking near shocked with each word his niece says, "You're going to throw away your life and oblige to your father's current whim, just like that?" Apparently caught by a sudden fit, Silgryn points at Jarod's pretty silent form, still leaning against the window, "And what about his future? Have you thought about it?"

Unable to keep his thoughts to himself from much further, Illidan speaks for the first time since Silgryn laid out his grim yet expected plan, "What's he got to do with all this?" He arches a brow, pointing at Jarod with his chin as he crosses his arms, half demanding a proper answer.

For his offense, Silgryn doesn't even bother to look at him in the eye, intent on his stare at his niece. "Seems you clearly haven't thought about any of the dorei in this room, for the matter," He says harshly, lavender forehead creasing in evident disappointment. "This isn't only about you and me, can't you see that, Mylenne? How much more we have to endure your father's madness before he finally tears all of us apart for good?"

"I understand your outrage, kiddo, believe me…" Arluin appears to summon his guts to finally intercede and stop Mylenne's erratic pacing, hands on his hips, "I wouldn't approve something like this on my own blood relatives out of the blue, I get that. But what you think Lord Stareye would do once he gets to escalate further on the nobility ladder? Because these things are now just whims and requests, but once he finally gets a proper place as the Lunastres' main vassal House, then it'll be his word against all of us lowborns, don't you think? And he won't stop bringing hell on everybody who opposes him, that's pretty much obvious already…"

Arluin's remark seems to leave Mylenne to wonder, making her draw a tired sigh as she runs a hand over her violet mane in frustration, her gaze locked on the floor. Silence falls over the room once again before she speaks, exhaustion appearing to wash over her, "All I know is that our family's been torn apart even before I was born…" She confesses, her voice merely a whisper, "This has gone too far already. How can you really believe taking another of us out will solve anything at this point?"

Silgryn sighs as well, also running a tired hand over his face, "What would you like me to do? Sit here and watch as you, let's say, take one for the team?" He waves a dismissive hand in the air as if it's one of the most ridiculous things he'd heard in his life, "That's pretty dramatic of you, you have to admit that…"

Surprisingly so, something seems to click on Mylenne after that observation, violet brows cinching as she lifts her chin to face her uncle. "If it means no one else will get hurt, then so be it," She says, resolute, before heading for the door, barely glancing across her shoulder when she turns on the handle, "You keep saying I'm the only good one left of our family, but that's not true, Silgryn. We're all rotten on the inside, and I'm no exception."

Her silver eyes find Illidan among the group before leaving, catching the silent plea he sends her way. "For what is worth, just know I'm truly sorry. But I can't go on like this... We've caused so much damage already," Mylenne murmurs, lower lip trembling and Illidan's chest heaving, nearly choking with an overwhelming urge to run over and hold her tightly in his arms—anything to ease that despair washing over her, threatening to take over his senses if he doesn't act on it.

"Mylie… hey—" It's all he can mutter, his feet moving on its own accord, not minding in the slightest about the rest of the men in the room, but all Illidan gains is a heavy lump in his throat, his heart falling down to the floor as Mylenne just leaves him behind, not looking back as she slams the door close.

A near deafening silence falls over them once again for what feels like an eternity, a mix of many emotions coursing through him, struggling to at least keeping it together somehow. It's been barely an hour ago when he'd finally made amends with Mylenne after three months apart, making this whole new situation incredibly unfair for the both of them and much more than frustrating. And to add it to the conflict, what's she sorry for?

It's surprising you haven't got used to this already, Stormrage. What were you expecting after all?

An awkward cough from Arluin shuts off the voice of his thoughts. "Well, that could have gone better…"

His lover brushes it off with a dismissive flick of his wrist, a then familiar ice cold mask falling over his face—the one he tends to wear when coming up with another serious scheme. "Pfft, whatever. She'll come around eventually. We have more pressing matters to attend to," Brushing past Hargo'then, Silgryn procures a plume and a parchment from one of the many pockets of his trousers, sauntering near Arluin and getting ready to work right away.

At the couple's demeanor, Jarod seems to have reached his limit, removing himself from his perched spot beside the window. "I can't believe you guys. You're no better than those quel you're standing up against," Sheer disappointment narrows his face as he too reaches for the door, not bothering to look at any of the remaining dorei on the room. "You know what, I'm out of here,"

"What!? Are you for real?" Silgryn's bark doesn't seem to get onto the boy, boasting the former to trot on his direction before he leaves, "Song Boy—Jarod!" He doesn't get to follow Mylie's friend, however, as Hargo lands a heavy hand on Silgryn's shoulder, merely shaking his head.

Illidan crosses his arms, inclined to agree with Hargo for once, knowing it's probably for the best to let them go for the current moment. "You can't honestly believe they'll be okay with this," He can't help with giving his two cents, frowning hard at Silgryn's sudden nonsense.

His comment prompts the elder Stareye to stare him down, initiating his stance. "Oh, really? And yet, I'm not seeing you walk out that door, lad," Arching a sly violet brow, Silgryn doesn't even blink, his gaze unrelenting and daring.

He takes a moment to contemplate the situation. Admittedly so, it's not that easy to pick a side on the matter, for he'd always choose to support Mylenne, no matter what. Although as of then, it's certain he can't just stay with arms crossed when Silgryn and his crew are apparently just giving him the chance of a lifetime to finally end that centuries-long reign of tyranny among House Stareye, once and for all.

Mylenne would most likely end up hating him for going along with Silgryn's wildest scheme to date, that's for sure. And yet, he would end up hating himself if something would happen to her and he didn't take the chance when he had it. What if the Stareyes haven't truly revealed the reasons behind that shady reunion? It's not like Illidan really needs another excuse when he's been craving to snap Lord Desdel's neck with his bare hands for quite long ago—the mere memory of a bruised and weeping Mylenne making his blood boil up with an all-consuming hatred.

Yes… yes! That's it! Grasp onto that hatred! The dark voice within goads him on, poisonous bile climbing up his throat, jaw clenching as the recollection of that night comes fully onto his memory. Stay true to who you really are, Stormrage, there's no use to keep struggling…

Their conversation clings to his mind as a reminder of what he'd promised back then. "I'd kill anyone who dares to lay a single finger on you, Mylie. I wouldn't care if it's the fucking consort of the Queen, I wouldn't be thinking twice about it…" He'd said that evening, and if he had to admit it, he's ever been surer of something in his life like then.

You hate when she keeps things from you, but who's doing it now? You want this; you've yearned for it for quite a long time.

The corner of Illidan's mouth curves up in a smirk, golden eyes gleaming darkly as he meets Silgryn's gaze. Under the men's full scrutiny, his resolve is finally set. "I won't lie: I've wanted to take that sart down for quite a long time already…" Illidan lifts his chin proudly, his previous doubts brushed away within the next breath, its claws far away to grasp him. "Perhaps you can start telling me what's on your mind first,"


The next Full Moon

Lothrius shifts uneasily, pretty much unlike his usual easygoing demeanor, running a nervous hand through his midnight blue hair, gleaming in shades of cerulean thanks to the dim sunlight left as dusk begins to set. "Hate to say it, buddy, but I have a veeeeery bad feeling about this," He repeats for the tenth time in the week, adjusting the hems of his Spellcaster robes so to seemingly do something with his hands. "If we're to keep guard on the Astravars, I'm not sure if we're going to have a way out that easily if something goes sideways. And Conjurer Vilessa will be there! She's ruthless, man! There's no way she wouldn't find out—"

Illidan lands a heavy hand on his friend's shoulder, startling him a bit, "Can you calm down for a second?" He says sternly, leaning down on his eye level, "We've run through all outcomes a dozen times. It's too late to turn back just now,"

A more clothed than usual Silgryn walks out the bar to join them right then, Arluin and Oculeth right behind his tracks, the three of them carrying a quite grim face. "Have a little faith in yourself, Slender," The elder Stareye snorts, adjusting a humble traveling cloak across his shoulders, a recently polished silver blade on his waist glinting briefly before disappearing from view under his robes.

Arluin seems to carry a similar set of blades, handling one to Lothrius and another to Illidan. "Here, this should come in handy if you can't pull up your fancies. And watch it, they're poisoned," Illidan nods in appreciation while latching it on his lower back, careful to keep it hidden under his purple cloak.

"It wouldn't kill you to keep a watchful eye on Vilessa, though," Oculeth points out as he brings a hand to the top of the Spellcasters' heads, casting the usual barriers such as another couple of protective spells over them; a dim purplish-blue light washing over them like raindrops before fading within the next moment. "I trust you've already caught the hand of the invisibility spell I taught you, lad?"

Illidan clicks his tongue in nonchalance, "Bah, it wasn't even hard to begin with," He reassures his late Shan'do, leaning on one hip in a cocky posture, "Hope you know I'm looking forward to something more challenging next time,"

"And you better keep your pretty head between your shoulders and focus, or there won't be a next time," Silgryn glares at him sharply, getting a cackle out of his bald friend. Lothrius, however, gulps and shifts once again, the whole situation appearing to be getting on his nerves.

Arluin recalls the group's attention the next moment, "Hargo and my birds are already on the hunt as we speak, so you better get moving," He urges the pair on, bringing them to the backyard where two nightsabers are already saddled and waiting, "I don't recall Duchess Astravar being pretty lenient with her guards, and she definitely hates to be kept waiting. As are all…"

Without further ado, Illidan saunters past them, holding onto the metallic collar bound on the saber's neck, mounting the beast in one swift motion, Lothrius silently following. "Remember, guys: The very first moment you catch Mylie alone, you get her the hell out of there," Silgryn takes mind to instruct for the thirtieth time or so, patting Illidan's saber on the cheek before taking a step away, "Be quick about it, and forget about Jarod if needs be. He can take care of himself anyway…"

At first, Illidan hasn't agreed at once to be assigned in sneaking Mylenne off instead of the main goal they were all working on. However, he'd eventually found some comfort in having her in his sights at all times should the worst come to happen—and, after all, each one had a critical role to play that evening. "Don't worry. Lothrius will cover me as I slip her out of the Estate," Illidan's friend nods sharply in reassurance as he explains. "Meet us at my hiding place?"

Silgryn's dark lips purse as if involuntarily, but he's quick in pulling up a calm face in the next moment. "Yep, sure thing," He doesn't sound pretty excited about it, turning to leave before seeming to recall something, eyes widening as he searches in his many pockets, "Oh, I almost forgot!" Returning to Illidan's saddle, he procures two shiny small shards, barely the size of his palm, glinting in shades of a dim violet, "Here, this one's for Mylie. The second is for you…"

As Silgryn hands them for him to take, Illidan recognizes the tokens instantly, brows knitting in a frown. "Memory shards?" He'd last seen those particular objects back at Stareye Manor's vault, next to some old and prized possessions from the late Conjurer Aedriel—the powerful arcane magic pulsing on the crystals inevitably throwing him off. "What's this for, Silgryn?"

For the first time in the evening to arrive, his lavender face softens drastically, the corners of his mouth curling up in a soft smile. "Just some answers to all your questions. Now be a good lad and take them," Dropping the shards onto his palm, Silgryn carefully closes Illidan's hand with both of his, something gloomy flashing on his silver gaze, not quite meeting Illidan's eyes. "I trust you'll be keeping them safe as much as my niece…" He then whispers somberly, his smile somewhat faltering.

He stays perplexed for a long minute, long ears tilting downwards as, with an elegant wave of his cloak, Silgryn turns on his back and saunters behind the pair of sabers. As much as Illidan thoroughly appreciates the gesture and finally seeming to have a tiny piece of his trust, he can't help but take his last words as a sort of farewell—not to add the traveling robes he's wearing.

He couldn't be possibly intending to leave Suramar, isn't he? He can't, though, not when his niece needs him the most.

When Silgryn casts a sad last glance at him, he gets a very uneasy feeling in his gut, blinking in confusion. "Until we meet again, Illidan…" Ever the proud one, the man doesn't give him the chance to say something back, slapping the beasts on their backs and prompting them to get on the run.

On their way out of the bar and to the Astravars, Illidan can't help with turning to look behind his shoulder, wide-eyed; Silgryn Stareye's figure going smaller and ever so still, a calm yet resolute look narrowing his lavender face before he disappears completely behind the cerulean trees of Suramar's outskirts.

His breath catches between his teeth as he turns to face the road. Just what on Elune's sake did he agree on?


The whole atmosphere surrounding the landscapes of Lunastre Estate is enough to point out and throw off anyone who, deep down, never had a real place among the aristocracy. With polished marble stairs, strong and tall steel fences, and pristine gardens adorning the scenery in many shades of cerulean and green, Duchess Ly'leth's palace seems as impressive and immaculate as the rest of the Great Houses' territory. If not—and surprisingly so—just as powerful, and that's telling a lot from the youngest Great House taking its place among Suramar's Court.

It doesn't seem odd, though—after all, appearances are everything for the Highborne nobility, and even Duchess Ly'leth has to prove every now and then how worthy she is of the place she's taking.

As easygoing as he knows his best friend to be, Lothrius nods in unexpected approval as the sight of the huge entrance gate comes to view, nearly gaping under his helmet while the two of them diligently escort the Astravar's cart from both sides. "From what I know, must admit I was expecting a more, um, modest scenery from the Lunastres," He mumbles only for Illidan to hear, "Could have fooled me,"

Illidan briefly shrugs his shoulders in admission, his attention turning to a silver carriage before theirs, holding back a menacing growl as a bunch of soldiers dressed in crimson and black robes approach to one of the doors; a familiar man leading the way particularly standing out from the group, wearing an elegant ceremonial garment instead—throwing Illidan off at the completely unexpected view.

Is the main point of this evening about sorting out the usual—at least, for the Highborne—arranged marriage? Why hasn't he been told?

More importantly, who are the ones set up for such a thing?

From his periphery, he notices Lothrius turning his head, ears subtly tilting upwards, prompting him to silently do the same. As the Astravar's opulent cart waits in line, both Sorcerers sharpen their ears and attempt to eavesdrop the dorei climbing down the transport as one of the Rooksguard men open the door for them to do so.

"Milady, Milord, is everything alright?" Jarod Shadowsong, clad in a long dull-silver robe tied up from neck to toe—which, from Illidan's point of view, apparently covers the same armor his militia is wearing underneath it—outstretches a hand for the second target of the evening, diligently helping Mylenne out of the Stareye's cart. "Should I be worried?" Illidan reads his lips while Lord Desdel briefly sneers at his comment.

Mylenne is wearing a pretty different dress than the ones Illidan is used to see on her, yet in sky blue and cerulean shades as her usual wardrobe, with the exact amount of opulence the event demands on their attendants. Except for the footwear, that is, showing a pair of light sandals without heels more fit to run than to enhance her figure—which, if someone asked for Illidan's opinion, seems to be precisely what she attempts to achieve with that choice of clothing, given the two long gaps of her dress across her thighs and the lack of sleeves.

It doesn't stop taking his breath away and making his mouth dry—or perhaps just the opposite—taking some advantage from the view and ogling her from head to toe for a brief, selfish moment.

Not that Lord Stareye notices the fair share of eyes glancing at his gorgeous daughter, for the matter, merely making sure Mylenne's delicate silver tiara is properly resting on the crown of her braided head, then returning his attention to Jarod. "Yes. Half my guards were missing on our way here. I just sent Piet to investigate their whereabouts," Lord Desdel mutters angrily while seeming to scan their surroundings with eyes of a predator, "I have strong suspicions either me or my daughter are being targeted right now,"

Mylenne's father reeks of sheer wrath even from Illidan's position, but Shadowsong appears to be a decent actor, feigning surprise as his silver eyes go wide, "What? That's a very serious assumption, Lord Commander," The only woman in the group of warriors also stares intently at her father, all waiting for a proper explanation, "Targeted by whom, if I may ask?"

Lord Desdel doesn't seem to bother with replying, the portion of his face Illidan can see from atop his saber briefly gleaming as he shows his white sharp fangs, grinning wickedly. That's the face of a man who's completely aware what are they're getting him into. He absolutely knows we're after his tail…

Mylenne rests a hand over Lord Stareye's forearm, stepping closer to him with pleading eyes, "Maybe we should leave, An'da. We may not be safe here," She leans her head to get on his line of sight, seeming to try her best to formulate the words she needs to make her father comply, her shoulders stiffening, "The Duchess will understand, I'm sure of that,"

"Agreed," Shadowsong follows quite quicker than apparently intended, nodding earnestly as he takes Mylenne's free hand in both of his, prompting the Stareyes' attention, "If either of you is in danger, then perhaps it's wiser to postpone the event for another—"

"Nonsense. We're not waiting any further," Lord Desdel looks as resolute as he sounds, waving a curt hand in dismissal and brushing his daughter away as subtly as he can, waiting for their carriage and servants to move before continuing his talk. "My blade's been thirsty for some traitor blood for quite a while. So let them come, and put up a good show for the Duchess…"

Lothrius nearly jumps when the Astravar's cart begins to move forward once again, the previous conversation lost on his and Illidan's ears while they dismount the nightsabers, more guards and servants alike approaching to help the nobles off. While Illidan feigns standing on attention, he keeps his eyes glued to Shadowsong and the Stareyes, the former looking reluctant to move and still attempting to make Lord Desdel see some reason.

As Illidan desperately tries to come up with an idea to keep watch over the Stareyes, the opportunity arrives before the trio reaches the entrance gates, nearly making him drop his façade with the abruptness of it all. The youngest of the Astravars, Lady Ailen, after getting off her cart, strides hurriedly to the stairs, leaving her family and a slightly lost Lothrius behind. "Lady Mylenne! Over here!" Ailen waves her over, holding up the many layers of her silk green dress in her walk, Illidan catching up with her in no time, "Please, wait for me!"

A forced smile shows on Mylenne's lips as she turns around to the voice, feline-painted silver eyes feigning joy as she excuses herself with her father and Shadowsong and obliges with Lady Ailen, waving back in a sort of shy manner while waiting for her at the stairs. That is, however, until her gaze lies on him, her pleased face dropping off in the blink of an eye—merely needing to catch Illidan's eyes behind his helmet to recognize him.

"Elune-adore, Milady. It is good to see you around," Mylenne recovers pretty fast as Lady Astravar reaches the stairs, taking her gloved hand to greet her properly. "You have my thanks for coming over,"

Lady Ailen cackles, dismissing her formalities with a flick of her wrist, "My friend, I would be crazy to miss it! I know mother isn't as eager as I am, but actually, this is my first time attending a ceremony such as this one," The young Astravar seems more than excited, giving Mylenne a quite friendly hug, violet eyebrows quirking up with the surprising gesture as she pats Ailen's back somewhat clumsily. "So, tell me. Are you nervous? Can I help you with something?" Ailen continues after letting Mylenne go.

"I, um… yes. Maybe you can," Illidan's ears unconsciously tilt upwards in question, earning a brief yet not less nasty glare from Mylenne's part, apparently going unnoticed by Lady Ailen as the rest of her family comes around. "Perhaps we can talk about it in private?" Mylenne's tone doesn't leave up a no for an answer, prompting Ailen to follow her after bowing to Duchess Astravar and her court as they gather at the entrance.

Lothrius and Illidan, as Lady Ailen's personal guards, instantly split up from the rest of the Sorcerers watching over the Astravars, silently and diligently following the pair inside the huge palace, watchful to give them their personal space; or at least, from Illidan's part, doing so to avoid any more subtle yet not less deathly glares from Mylenne. The young Astravar doesn't seem to notice how tense her friend seems to be, delivering the latest gossips while turning to the first floor and away from the rest of the attendants—apparently heading for one room in particular, if Mylenne guiding the way means anything to go by.

The women stop at what looks like a private dressing room, three pretty familiar maids showing themselves as the door opens, earnestly bowing before the ladies. "Mistress, you're already here. Lord Stareye sent us to tend for the last-minute, um, preparations," The tallest of the maids hesitates after noticing Mylenne's company, stepping aside to allow Lady Ailen to enter regardless. "Is it time already? Shall we begin, then?"

However, as Illidan and Lothrius on toe also step behind to follow Lady Astravar inside, Mylenne stands in their way, a very upset look crossing her eyes. "Guards are not allowed." She says, as curtly as ever, before slamming the door close, nearly hitting Illidan in the face.

Silence washes over the Sorcerers for a full minute, staring blankly at the closed door before sharing a dumbfounded look. Illidan is the first to come out from the reverie, anger beginning to boil up at Mylenne's rudeness. "Well, now I am mad…" Lothrius doesn't bother with replying, throwing his arms in frustration and walking to stand on the side of the door as expected of him, muttering some nonsense to himself.

A moment later, not giving too many thoughts about it, Illidan walks away from the door and to a shadowy corner of the hallway. "Just cover me, I'm going in,"


A-N: As you probably can notice, this isn't my usual cliffhanger. It's just that I really had to cut this chapter into - hopefully, because I still have no idea how it's going to end up - 3 parts due to the insane amount of things happening in here D:

I'd like to thank those readers who reached out to me via PMs, Tumblr and Discord, waiting so patiently for the next update. And wow, I really can't believe how much some of you held up and waited for this. I'm humbled beyond words, honestly, and can't thank you enough for being so kind and encouraging to me

In the meantime and while working on Pt. II and III - which are coming shortly, and I really mean this - feel free to reach me out and say hi as I also work on my art on Tumblr (Hoxadrine-art) and try to pay some bills before going bankrupt.