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.
Shan're: Honorable One/Friend. Used informally, most commonly among the aristocracy, to acknowledge an esteemed noble or someone below their caste.
An'da: Father.
Elun'dorini talah: "Let Elune's will be everlasting".
Stormrage
Not waiting for his friend's acknowledgment, Illidan inwardly begins casting Oculeth's Invisibility spell on himself, a slight purplish-blue glow washing over his head and shoulders before disappearing from view among the shadows. For the matter, it only makes Lothrius go into a sudden panic, over-gesticulating frantically and muttering through clenched teeth. "If you don't get us killed first, I swear for everything you hold dear I'm going to kill you myself," However, when the muffled chattering from the floor below is the only reply he gets, he stifles a very annoying groan, "… And then dig you out of your grave to kill you again!"
Merely snorting low in amusement, Illidan sticks close to the door as Lothrius gives up, tapping it thrice with a knuckle. When Lady Ailen shows herself, he's just as quick to make up an excuse—something about Duchess Astravar requesting his partner's presence—as it is for Illidan to sneak in effortlessly, crouching on a far corner of the dressing room and next to a wardrobe, careful not to make any noise.
Mylenne, however, stays still and silent as she waits for Lady Astravar to get them alone once again, yet she keeps looking particularly tense as her friend does so, lavender ears quirked up in alert and bare shoulders stiffen. Thankfully and before leaving her to become more suspicious, one of the maids guides her to a chair facing a full-body mirror; all women turning her backs on Illidan as they walk to the opposite side of the room, an odd sense of awkwardness hanging in the air as everyone seems reluctant to break the silence.
After sending a glare at the three maids, one by one, Mylenne's the one to do so. "Well, now that you have me alone, you can start with spilling the truth. Which Stareye sent you?" Her reprimand makes the trio fidget in obvious nervousness, prompting her to add, "Oh, don't mind Lady Astravar here. I'd like her to know what this is really all about,"
The portion of Lady Ailen's face Illidan can see from his hiding spot looks dumbfounded, tilting her head in confusion and opening her mouth to say something. However, one of the maids—presumably the one in charge—replies first, "You are right, it is fair of you to ask for honesty after having us under your wing all these past centuries. It… was Lord Silgryn, as you suspected," She lifts her hands in the universal sign of surrender, "But please, Milady, do not take upon Bara and Loratha, I am the one responsible for us to be here. Besides, we are merely to keep an eye on you and nothing further! Lord Silgryn is only worried about you and—"
"Keep an eye on her? What's the meaning of this? Are you servants or informants?" Lady Astravar snaps out of her confused state, spilling the last word half-disgustedly, arms crossing as she scans suspiciously at every woman in the room, her tone clearly demanding a proper answer. "I'm hoping you can explain yourself, Lady Mylenne…"
Mylenne raises a hand to the noble Lady in attempts to calm her down, "That's all I want to do and why I brought you here. But please, take a seat with me first," Pointing out to the closest chair, she waits for Ailen to oblige before continuing, sitting across from her. "To be honest, I intended to go to Lady Starweave instead, but I fear you're the only one that can be trusted with this right now. Thing is, I'm in need of your help,"
From his hidden spot, Illidan unconsciously tenses. It's easy to assume Mylenne would have opted on avoiding Syrana so not to resort to him and Lothrius as well, but what does Lady Astravar have to offer instead?
And most important, what could she possibly be needing help for?
"And let me guess: It has nothing to do with the main event of the evening and why we're all here for, is it?" Lady Astravar arches a brow, an air of mistrust showing all over her heavily painted face.
Mylenne just sighs softly, appearing to hesitate at first, lilac lips pursing briefly. "Let me be plain and simple, then: My uncle, Silgryn Stareye, is planning to assassinate my father tonight, and I need your help to not make it happen," She then deadpans, eyes fixed on her noble companion, gaze unwavering.
Well, we're screwed. Why am I beginning to think Lothrius was right with that bad hunch all along? First was Silgryn, then Lord Desdel, and now Mylenne? Is every Stareye playing their own game tonight?
Lady Ailen's shocked gasp can nearly be heard from outside the room, "What? I… why would he do that!?" Bringing a hand to her cheek in a way to recompose herself, her wide-eyed gaze lands dangerously close to the corner where Illidan lies hidden, yet only briefly before turning to Mylenne and the maids once again. "Doesn't matter, it's a reckless plan anyway; Lord Stareye couldn't be safer elsewhere. Nearly all the Rooksguard was brought here by him and General Ravencrest, and Conjurer Vilessa herself is in charge of the Palace security!"
Mylenne nods wholeheartedly, taking Lady Astravar's gloved hand in hers, "I know that, and that's why I've been looking for someone like you to side on with me," She says in a calming tone, waiting a moment for Ailen to recover, "In truth, this isn't coming just as suddenly as you may think. Father's been looking for a fair excuse to banish my uncle from Suramar once and for all, ever since his last return. Silgryn's recklessness will give him plenty of reasons and even a consistent proof to bring to the Duchess and pledge for that. Not to mention people may die tonight because of it,"
One of the maids procures a glass of water for the noble Lady, keeping a polite distance after she takes it and vaguely nods in thanks. "Dear Elune. I mean, the centuries-old rivalries of the men of House Stareye are of public knowledge. It's a common topic among the nobles of the Court, even. But I had no idea it went as far as this," After taking two gulps and a deep breath, she seems to be recomposing from her previous shock, "I wonder, does your father knows he's in danger right now?"
"Yes. Actually, half of his men were chased down on our way here, but he doesn't want to give in to my uncle. Don't forget how of a prideful lot we Stareyes are…" Mylenne chuckles darkly, crossing her legs as she faces her friend properly, "I think father has hopes for Silgryn to show up in a dramatic fashion, as I'm aware he can, but I already did my best to make sure he won't," A long sigh follows, appearing to summon some strength to continue, "I also happen to know who Silgryn sent here,"
Her last comment prompts both Ailen and Illidan's complete attention—if she didn't have it before, that is. What's she planning on? "Well, that's good! Have they arrived already? Or, um, are you friends with them?" Lady Astravar points out to the three silent maids, yet a slight frown shows on her face as it's Mylenne who nods in admission, "Okay, um, alright. Then, perhaps you can talk them down or something, or… Wait!" She stands up abruptly, clapping her hands and startling the maids, "I know! You can lead me to the assassin! I'll have my guards lock them up somewhere until Lord Desdel's free from harm! What do you say?"
Mylenne's shoulders slump down in apparent defeat, drawing another long breath. "That will be complicated, Lady Ailen, for they are your guards…" She finally deadpans.
Her disclosure makes Illidan draw an inward breath, jaw nearly dropping. What in Elune's fucking sake? She thinks Silgryn sent us?
"What!?" Lady Astravar stops on her tracks, shocked to the core once again, bringing both hands to her head. "Oh… oh, Goddess! And I just let one of them go! Maybe he's already… I should—"
Realizing he can't stay hidden for much longer, Illidan rushes to get in the way of Lady Astravar and the door as quick as the blink of an eye. His Spellcaster robes flutter with the motion, air rippling around him as his invisibility spell drops, standing on his full height before the woman.
"There is no need of that, Milady." He says plainly, staring Ailen down in a way to prove how serious—and, if accidentally, how distrustful of her—he is.
The five women take a step back at his sudden appearance, one of the maids barely muffling a yelp and another even reaching for an empty bottle, prompting Illidan to take his helmet off as a way of showing he actually means no harm. Not like it's relevant, for the matter, after noticing Mylenne's wide-eyed stare on him, bright silver then blazing with sheer fury.
"What the… y-you've been here this whole time!?" Her fangs briefly glint with the dim candlelight in the room, careless of her clothes and expensive jewelry as she launches herself at him, as mad as Illidan's ever seen her. "I had the feeling you were, but didn't want to believe it. And still you… you dare!" Mylenne barks, slapping his cheek sharply, making him flinch away in near shock—if from her odd revelation or her audacity, he's not really sure.
Yet before grasping the chance to explain himself, the maid who had previously spoken up interjects once again. "I beg your pardon, Mistress, but I believe this is a misunderstanding," She scoots to Mylenne's point of view, trying to get her attention, "Before coming to this room, I was ordered to unlock a personnel-only door which leads to the gardens. I understood that was meant for the assassin to sneak in," Mylenne's brows quirk up in question, not really getting it, "What I am trying to say is, it is unlikely for Lady Astravar's guards to be the assassins. Why would they come through the main entrance otherwise?"
"At least listen to her. Of course we're not here for that," Illidan insists, doing his best not to put up an unbelievable face, holding his stinging cheek and careful to keep a safe distance from the raging woman. "We're trying to sneak you away from here, you see?"
Mylenne's features soften drastically at his remark, her previous hard glare switching to a suddenly confused look. However, the air of hostility isn't fully turned off as Lady Astravar grabs her friend by the elbow in a protective manner. "Who are you? And what have you done to my guards, Sorcerer?" The noble Lady asks in her usual demanding tone, frowning in skepticism.
Illidan sighs heavily, idly wondering how long they'll keep going with the tiring interrogation. "No need to worry, Milady. We merely switched assignments, your former guards are safe and sound at the Stronghold," He can't help with slightly rolling his eyes with the irrelevancy of the topic, as much with adding, "Just… slightly upset for not coming over, but that is all," A smug smirk shows on his face, inwardly thanking the Goddess for having Syrana and her invaluable help.
"Oh, cut the crap, Illidan." Mylenne brushes off his nonchalance, returning to that oddly awful demeanor she's been having ever since she argued with her uncle. "And whatever you've been scheming, just drop it too," Crossing her arms, she looks away as if offended, "I'm not going anywhere and whatever may be our stand with father, I still won't leave him alone right now…"
He barely swallows a groan, dangerously reaching the end of his tolerance. "Mylie, listen to me. I'm only doing this for your safety," Illidan partially lies—not like he needs to tell otherwise—stomping into her personal space and grabbing her arm almost harshly, not moving a mere inch when Mylenne tries pushing him away by the chest, flustered, "This place will be in total chaos in any minute from now, and I really can't assure there won't be any casualties when that happens,"
Their eyes lock for a long moment, fierce anger flashing across Mylenne's gaze—yet only briefly, unable to handle their staring match for much longer. He lets down his guard a bit as well, "You don't have to be there, Lord Stareye can handle this by himself. He has his own guards as you both said, but you…" A soft sigh escapes Illidan's lips, ears tilting downwards involuntarily, "I know you, and I can't bear to see you in the middle of it all only to defend that sart of your father." His hand travels from her arm to her cheek, cupping it tenderly, "I just can't…"
As if surrendering to his touch, Mylenne's eyes flutter close and sighs as well, leaning into his hand. "Even if I want to, I just can't leave. It's too late for that now…" She says with the thinnest voice, a sense of regret plastered all over her face as she takes his hand with both of hers afterwards. "Silgryn hasn't told you everything, isn't he?"
Illidan's brows knit together in a worried frown, lending her a hand as Mylenne tiredly tries removing the shimmering silver tiara adorning the crown of her head, the rest of the room's occupants finally giving them some space. "When the letters with the invitations arrived, after the fight we had at the bar, I left right away, as you surely can remember," She begins, reluctant to meet Illidan's eyes. "Thing is, I found my owl, Normosh'el, outside the bar, with another invitation. It was one for Silgryn…"
Half-consciously and more because how accustomed he is to do her hair over the years, Illidan remakes a violet braid that got in the way while taking away her tiara, humming idly. "I don't get it. What's got to do with all this?" He wonders, fingers working fast and on its own accord and then latching the small braid behind her lavender ear with a pin, making it twitch as his thumb accidentally brushes her lobe.
"It's no secret that father's been working for very long to get Silgryn banished, no matter the cost. It turns out he already has solid proof to do so," Mylenne explains half-vaguely, gesticulating in a way to get to the point she's attempting to, "Anyways, father invited him over not with intentions of a truce, as written in his letter, but with the idea of bringing him to the Duchess and expose him publicly—"
"Or rightfully claim Lord Silgryn's head if he happens to not accept such terms, I'm guessing," Lady Astravar intervenes, biting her lower lip and looking deep in thought.
"… Which even you can admit was exactly what would have happened if Silgryn were around right now," Mylenne remarks with a sharp flick of her wrist. "I mean, I know he's smart enough to not believe such a lie as a truce between them, but he'd have come anyway only to prove father he has the guts to show his face,"
"Either way, that was a bold move from Lord Desdel. Even if Lord Silgryn doesn't come, he can place an arrest warrant on him for not doing so…" Lady Ailen speaks almost as if she admires the Stareye patriarch, the silver of her eyes glinting, looking like running through many outcomes in her head, "I genuinely wonder how Lord Silgryn will get away with this one. As clever as he's known to be, I haven't seen him getting out of worse situations than this just yet,"
Beside him, Mylenne snorts without an inch of amusement. "My uncle's not how you remember him to be anymore, Ailen. As much as I can admit it was father who cast him out and started this… war among my House in the first place, Silgryn has retaliated as recklessly as I've ever seen him,"
Having a hunch that Mylenne's speaking from her thoughts on that evening at Aedriel's hidden vault in Stareye Manor, Illidan can't help with tsking in disagreement, "Sometimes a time comes when you must fight fire with fire, Mylie…" He just says, knowing it's not safe to go into further details, hoping for her to understand what he really means.
Sure thing, Silgryn Stareye may not be the sharpest or cleverest of dorei in Illidan's eyes, but if there's one thing he can give him, is that he really works for what he aspires to achieve. And that may usually be frowned down from the Highborne nobility, but at least he tries turning the odds in his favor and is not afraid of the consequences as his pairs commonly might be; something that, whatever the differences they may share, makes him worthy of Illidan's respect, which isn't particularly easy to earn.
"And drag us all into the fray in the process?" Turning her guard down a fair amount, Mylenne turns to a table and procures a glass of water, bitterness adorning her voice, "Don't get me going with how little he seems to care for the lot of us, or not enough to at least ask for our opinions in the first place."
Of course, Illidan wouldn't really trust Silgryn with his life or the ones he holds dear, but just enough to accept his terms and work together towards a common goal such as the one he's currently neck-deep into.
Bah, you can't be that shameless to dare think you're not doing this for your own selfish reasons, Stormrage. You want to impress her, it's not that big of a deal. Most men would do much worse than you for just a petty minute in the company of a stunning noblewoman such as Mylenne…
Speaking—or thinking—of which, another offended snort reaches Illidan's ears, cutting off his self-ponderings. "Aaaand given you seem to care just as little as well, I'll just go straight to the point," Mylenne gives him the fakest of smiles before frowning hard, seeming upset at his lack of proper attention, "There's something you should know, Lid. Remember when we got Arluin out of the dungeons? Turns out, one of Jarod's men saw us and went to General Ravencrest,"
The sudden news makes Illidan hum in concern, although it's Lady Astravar who, once again, happens to be the most surprised of them all. "Wait. Dungeons, you say? You mean you sneaked into Black Rook Hold, of all places?"
"A long story, Milady," He cuts her off with a raising hand, not bothering to look at her in the eye, "But that means he saw me as well," His brows knit together hard, inevitably starting to run through the worst outcomes of that—almost forgotten—event in his head.
Does that mean he's in trouble? But how Syrana, his most trustworthy informant and unofficial Queen of Gossips, hasn't heard of it but Mylenne did?
As if reading his thoughts, Mylenne crosses her arms, sending him a suspicious look. "It almost seems as if you don't know me already," Her lips purse into a sneer, "That's the first thing I asked, by the way, but nobody recognized you. We Stareyes are easier to be spotted,"
Vaguely pointing at her long violet mane, she begins pacing around, mood changing drastically as she looks like summoning some strength to continue explaining, "Thing is, Jarod and I found another way to stop father from banishing Silgryn and get Jarod punished for insubordination and perpetuating an ongoing investigation,"
She draws a heavy sigh, eyes fluttering close, anger seeming to be long gone. "And so, we've already made a deal with him…"
Illidan's breath catches before he's able to find any words to say in reply, an odd mix of emotions coursing through him—frustration, dread, sheer concern boiling up altogether. Does that mean what he suspects it does? Whatever deal they made, nothing that Lord Desdel Stareye could have ever demanded of her in exchange would be good in any way, that's for certain. And no matter how overdramatic he may put it, Illidan can't help but take the news as grimly as it sounds.
That, from now on, Lord Desdel appears to be having his daughter on a leash—cornered to a wall, forced to do as he commands.
"Mylie, you… you just can't… have you gone out of your mind!?"
The creak of the door as it suddenly opens startles everyone inside the room, prompting Illidan to—in an act of instinct—put his helmet back on in a rush, inwardly cursing himself for being as careless as he's been in a place filled with enemies lurking in every corner. For everyone's relief, it's just Lothrius, yet the distressed look in his eyes says the exact opposite.
"Um, guys? The Nightsaber himself is coming up the stairs…" Appearing just about to go into a panic, Lothrius' near crazed gaze lies on Illidan, frantically gesturing to the exit with his head. "You know I can't put a spell on him, right? We have to go!" He mutters through clenched teeth, holding the door for him.
Gathering the best of his composure, Illidan nods in acknowledgment, hesitating to spare a glance at the women and risk staying and further ruining any way out for him. As much as he and Mylenne have just started to disclose with each other, his instincts tell him to leave it for a more appropriate moment—if they will ever have another one, that is.
With a clouded mind and after an intake of breath, he heads for the door, only for Mylenne to stop him all of a sudden. "Look, Illidan, I need you on my side more than ever. Please…" Their eyes lock once again as she clings to his purple sleeve, and his heart feels like shattering into pieces at the desperate sight of her, "If you weren't the ones Silgryn sent, then I take you know who the assassin is,"
He swallows hard, the dark corners of his mind beginning to question why he'd ever got up from his bed that evening in the first place. "Yes, but it's useless. I have no idea where Ha—" Catching a brief glance at Lady Astravar, Illidan bites his tongue, getting a sudden bad hunch, "Where he is." Nonetheless, Mylenne gets it right away, barely holding a shocked gasp as it escapes her mouth, covering it with a trembling hand. "You know I'd do everything in my reach if you just ask me to, but I haven't been told of the other's intentions, I don't—"
The sound of several muffled footsteps, appearing to come from the stairs end, prompt her to recover her composure as fast as it went off—probably also realizing how dangerous it is to have him so close and around as well.
"O-okay, then. Here's what we'll do," Letting him go, they both walk to the door yet not further enough to stand outside; Mylenne's voice barely a whisper. "I'll hold off father here and try talking him out of keeping our stay again, but you two have to find him. And stop him, no matter what." Her bright silver eyes glint with sheer determination, intent on showing Illidan how serious she appears to be. "You must trust me on this, alright?"
I always do. It's just anyone else I don't trust. But the words get caught on Illidan's tongue as a large shadow comes nearby, unconsciously sending a cold shiver down his spine with the sound of a ruffling, long crimson cloak; leather boots tapping on the porcelain floor ever so elegant yet menacingly at the same time.
In a moment's notice, he stands in attention at the other side of the door from Lothrius, gaze strongly fixed on the balcony, not even blinking nor wanting to seem bold enough to stare at the imposing figure of Lord Desdel Stareye—remarkably so, being one of the few males in Suramar just as tall as Illidan is.
Yet he's the one who does.
"Enjoying the evening, fledglings?" Lord Stareye's deep, baritone voice booms across the hallway just as ominously as his very presence, a crooked smile on his scarred face, silver eyes sharp as a predator as he stares Lothrius down. "I certainly hope so. Tonight is a celebration, after all."
And we'll absolutely do just that after we hang your head on a spike, you big piece of shit, the twisted voice within Illidan snarls, growling as the caged beast it really is, rejoicing in advance for what's about to come upon him that very evening.
Lothrius hesitates, however, yet after a tense silence washes over them, he seems to opt for a polite greeting. "Milord…"
"—and hopefully, it may be the last for the likes of you." Lord Desdel looms over him, nearly into Lothrius' personal space, his smile widening into a wicked grin. "Sadly, I cannot say the same for the rest of my fellow nobles, but once my Rooksguard takes charge of the affairs of House Lunastre and their vassals as we rightfully deserve, perhaps they will also see no need of spiteful sorcery and follow our example."
Illidan clamps his teeth down the inside of his cheek so to keep himself in check, although it's a sense of pride what does the job as, subtly glancing sideways, he notices Lothrius' portion of his face behind his helmet as hard as a rock, not giving in to Lord Stareye's intimidations in the slightest. His friend doesn't give him the satisfaction of a comeback either, staring at the balcony with a straight chin, still as a statue.
With a low, dark chuckle, Lord Desdel leaves him be, then casts a glance at Illidan at the side, his pleased face finally relaxing and returning to its natural scowling features. His gaze lingers on Illidan for a considerable—and very uncomfortable—amount of time, but if he'd just recognized him from previous encounters, Illidan can't really tell, more than determined to not give in and stare back as the noble Lord dares him so.
"Now, if you excuse me, my adoring daughter awaits my presence," The newly appointed Lord Commander merely says before sauntering into the room, a tint of sarcasm in his voice. "Mylenne, my dear, you haven't changed yet…?" It's the last Illidan and Lothrius hear before the door snaps shut.
So that's what appears to be Lord Desdel's incentive for the evening. However, it still looks hard to point out what does that has to do with his daughter or the—quite incompetent for Illidan's liking—daughter's childhood friend that happens to have him as a Shan'do. It's not clear enough, but the only thing Mylenne and Jarod Shadowsong are sharing that evening beside the obvious family drama are the preparations for a marriage arrangement to be held.
A sudden and very crazy thought crosses Illidan's mind as of then, nearly setting him off with the oddity of it all: It could be that… Lord Desdel's leaving his widowhood behind and getting married? But, then again, why hasn't he heard anything at all?
They should search for Syrana, and fast.
As if having a life of its own, Illidan's feet move towards the hallway and to the stairs, head racing with questions upon questions that need to be answered before he loses his mind for good. No matter her slight inclination to do so, Mylenne still doesn't seem willing to give him any, and her warrior friend is definitely not an option to lean on—even if it's just his pride speaking, Jarod is technically not one to be trusted.
He doesn't get to walk too far before the damned door opens once again, Lady Astravar heading out as composed as Illidan has seen her in the entire evening, making the universal signal to get on the move with a vague gesture of her adorned wrist. With some frustration—due to nearly have forgotten his actual job—Illidan obliges and turns on his heels, only for the noble Lady to snort in slight amusement.
"Not you," She says as if it's obvious, a small smirk showing on her face before sauntering past him with Lothrius in toe, who merely shrugs, apparently being more clueless than him.
However, Illidan doesn't have the chance to wonder what's going on as Mylenne strolls to the hallway as well, blabbering what seems to be a sort of vague excuse before closing the door afterwards. His heart skips a beat, annoyance long forgotten and something close to hope blossoming within him, a soft sigh and softer smile creeping up his face. Has she reconsidered his offer of leaving the palace?
It gets surprisingly better than just that when Mylenne rushes to him, small lavender hands pulling his head down by the helmet, her face tilting to the side as, of all things she could have done, she does the most unexpected one:
She kisses him with all her might.
Time stops all of a sudden, and so does his need to breathe or even blink. Actually, he can't find any way to reciprocate somehow; not when all his brain does is going into short-circuiting, utterly lost for any sense of reason as her lips press hard against his. All Illidan can do is stay so very still, staring at her through crinkled slits and arms limping on his sides, savoring what he so deeply wishes to be like home and warmth—the same heavenly feeling he'd been craving for ever since he first kissed her, some months back.
But instead, it gets to be like the most bittersweet feeling in the world.
It lasts only a breath, however, and when the gesture should have been all Illidan has ever wanted, it still feels completely wrong, leaving him just as stunned as lost for any words whatsoever. As his sights return and Mylenne leans away from him, bright silver eyes then brimming with tears, his heart seems to shatter into pieces, a sense of hopelessness overtaking his senses.
He should be rejoicing in that very moment; maybe throw the biggest fucking party, Silgryn Stareye's style, and yell to even the darkest corners of Suramar City to hear of his most wild dream becoming true at last. That Lady Mylenne of House Stareye, of all women in the Empire, finally appears to have reciprocated his feelings—and to him, him, nothing more than a petty nameless lowborn from the humble town of Lorlathil, of all men in the Empire.
He should be kissing her back with all his might as well, then take her hand and run far, far away together as he'd planned countless times in his sleep. Just the two of them, turned fugitives and living the good life at its fullest, side by side as it should be.
And yet, for some wild reason, he hasn't felt so torn up in all his life as of then.
"What… was that for?" Illidan has no idea how he'd found his voice again, instantly regretting what he just said as Mylenne's face slightly cringes as if in pain.
She takes a deep breath and a hard swallow. "Because I know you too," She replies in the same weak tone, walking backwards, mindful of quickly wiping some tears running down her face before her makeup gets ruined. "And you won't, but… I can only hope you'll find it in your heart to forgive me…"
He hasn't the slightest idea what's with the Stareyes and their more than gloomy last words that evening, but at that very moment, right when Mylenne returns to her father and silence falls over his shoulders like a heavy rock, he's certain he had just lost the will to know any further.
Turning on his heels, he meets Lothrius standing at the end of the stairs, face filled with sheer concern. "I get you now, you know," Illidan's lips purse tightly, hands clenching into fists, "I too have a very bad feeling about this…"
They can't really blame her skepticism, not when she'd just found out they're not the guards her family had hired for the evening, but as him and Lothrius follow Lady Astravar across the other side of the Palace without a single word between them for twenty minutes or so, her attitude starts to get on Illidan's nerves as well as Lothrius'—judging by his constant fleeting looks at the back of her head, that is.
Eventually, his friend seems to have reached the end of his patience, or maybe it's just curiosity getting the best of him. "Um, where exactly are we going, Milady?" Lothrius wonders as they walk past the gate leading to the gardens and, consequently, where all the nobles appear to be gathering around. "Are you not supposed to—"
Lady Ailen merely glances past her shoulder. "You think that, as my guard, you have some right to question my every move?" The remark prompts Lothrius to shut his mouth, the three of them turning around the corner and to a less crowded lobby. "Come now, there's no reason to head to the gardens just yet,"
"But…" Illidan interjects, figuring out his friend may have a point with blending among the nobles, only to almost bump into her as she stops abruptly, facing him properly.
Not at all intimidated by his height, the noblewoman leans into Illidan's personal space, chin up and defiant. "I said I will help, Sorcerer, and before all, I am an Astravar. So whatever you may think of me, remember we are proudly known for keeping our words." Lady Ailen sneers, frowning hard, golden eyes gleaming in purplish tones as her inner magic manifests, if only briefly. "Regardless, I agreed to help Lady Stareye, not you. So learn your place if you intend to keep your job…"
'Learn your place'? Well, well, the Twilight Tide just had a surge of petty arrogance. At least she's bold, you should give her that.
However, the Lady's audacity kind of hits one of Illidan's soft spots, forcefully making him swallow his own pride and shut his damn mouth for the current moment, falling behind her slightly swagger walk across the lobby with a defeated Lothrius stepping over Illidan's shadow.
Thankfully so, his crushed mood gets somewhat better as they come across some known faces from the Moon Guard. Nearly the whole Astravar's Court seems to have gathered on that hall, including Conjurers Thalerian and Vilessa who look to be having a heated discussion next to a long window facing the gardens of the Palace. Near the next exit, there's a bunch of other Spellcasters dutifully following someone who—at a simple view—looks like a very important envoy from Suramar's Court, judging by the marble sigil of a crown engraving their purple cloak.
"Milady, you've finally made it!" A familiar voice recalls the trio's attention, their broad smile and welcoming demeanor first catching Illidan's eye as he turns to the source, prompting a relieved sigh out of him. "Ah, I'm afraid we had to start this lovely Nightwine without you, but let me fetch you a glass right away!" Lord Nyellus Starweave clicks his fingers and signals a waitress over, bowing gracefully to his Duchess' daughter afterwards as his way to give a proper greeting.
"Oh, Shan're Nyellus, you're too good for me…" Lady Ailen pats his arm gratefully, her polite smile widening even further as another friendly face comes by, providing her a full glass of wine. "And you've brought your little daughter with you! Shalasyr, what a sight for sore eyes, it's been so long!"
Brushing away the courtly manners, Lady Astravar wraps Shalasyr in an eager hug, making the young Starweave more mortified than before, although recovering pretty quickly and hugging the woman back rather clumsily, mindful of the expensive jewelry adorning Ailen's neck and ears. A third newcomer then appears to come in Shalasyr's rescue, clearing her throat exaggeratedly behind the pair of women, prompting them apart and facing her.
"And no hug for me? Aw, you just broke my heart, Ailen…" Syrana makes a melodramatic show of looking devastated, brushing her forehead with the back of her gloved hand and pretending to be about to faint. Her father tsks in disapproval, but that doesn't seem to stop his eldest daughter's mocking act.
Lothrius snickers very quietly behind the nobles, yet he goes unnoticed by everyone but Illidan. "Where were you, dear?" Nyellus asks his daughter as she joins the group with more drinks.
"Distracting Lord Blackforest as you asked, An'da. What else?" A gleam of deviltry crosses Syrana's golden eyes, appearing as pretty much entertained as usual among events like those, fixing a non-existent crease off the teal sleeve of her gown with nonchalance. "Oh, nothing too troublesome, Milady, he just can't seem to stop fawning over Arcanist Valtrois over there and it's giving the Spellcasters some headaches already," She stabs a thumb past her shoulder and to the general direction of Elisande's only envoy.
The Starweaves and Lady Astravar spare a moment to give the Arcanist a subtle once over. "Well, it's not like she can pass unnoticed, with almost half the Moonguard breathing on her neck…" Ailen seems to think out loud, taking a small sip of her Nightwine. "I just wonder why the Grand Magistrix would send one of her Court over here, and without her own guards,"
"From what I can tell, I believe it's safe to say this gathering will beat Lord Moonblade's last masquerade ball," Syrana says in an obvious tone, resting her weight on her other hip, "You heard it from me, but this is the event of the decade, my dear Ailen. Don't tell Lord Moonblade, though, or we wouldn't stop hearing his cries for months…" She covers her mouth for the last part, adding up a mocking roll of her eyes.
Illidan's stoic façade almost falls apart with Syrana's amusing chit-chat… until there's another thing that unexpectedly does the job—a very sudden white noise assaulting his mind, nearly deafening him for a whole second. He's forced to swallow a grunt of pain, eyes shutting close.
That's Arcanist Valtrois? A voice that's not his, nor from the dark corners of his mind, whispers right to Illidan's ear and into his head, clouding the rest of his thoughts. Don't get near her, Illidan. I'm told of her talents and you definitely don't want her to use them on you…
His senses get clouded, doing his best with not looking as startled and utterly alarmed as he admittedly is, yet tensing noticeably nonetheless, feeling Lothrius' worried glance through the corner of his lidded eyes.
"… I think an engagement party always surpasses a kal-tora, no matter how fancy," Lady Astravar's voice sounds oddly muffled, as if coming from miles away, even when she's standing right next to him.
What's most concerning is that Illidan knows who that voice belongs to. How in Elune's sake is that even possible? Is he going mad already?
"Conjurer Thalerian finally getting matched, that's something I thought I wouldn't get to see anytime soon," Nyellus guffaws next to Shalasyr, everyone looking pretty oblivious of one of Lady Astravar's guards nearly going into a fret mere inches from them, still raptured in their conversation. "However, I'm inclined to believe the reason why Elisande's envoy is surrounded by Moonguards tonight is as a sign of good faith from him,"
"Makes fair sense, if the Order's turning under the Lunastre's wing…" Lady Ailen agrees with a thoughtful nod.
The passing comment leaves Illidan to wonder. Is the Moon Guard also turning to House Lunastre? Having two diverse Orders such as his own and the Rooksguard under the same banner would indeed call for an interesting turn of events—and a more than fair reason why an envoy from Elisande's Court would come to oversee such negotiation—but also for some trouble as well.
But then, another stabbing feeling strikes Illidan's head, leaving him unable to focus on the ongoing talk, this time pretty less painful than the first one, however. Try not to panic, please. That makes it worse. The source of the voice seems to turn to the back of his head instead of his ear as before, prompting Illidan to scratch it in an act of reflex—and to massage away the tense muscles of his neck.
I promise I'll explain later, but now listen to me very carefully: Silgryn's been betrayed.
Unable to take it anymore, Illidan turns to search for the owner of the voice near frantically, fairly sure this time it's not the twisted one of his conscience playing games with him as he's already accustomed to.
There were no Rooksguard at the road, only couriers dressed up as soldiers. Lieutenant Piet just lost me but he and Lord Desdel knew we were coming.
For the matter, he's nowhere to be seen, sheer concern pooling on Illidan's gut, getting worse as he keeps speaking without pause. Perhaps he is, indeed, going somewhat insane.
If not, then how in Elune's sake could he be hearing Hargo'then in his head, of all people?
Someone tipped us off, Illidan, and I'm inclined to believe it wasn't anyone from Lord Desdel, but a Sorcerer. Conjurer Vilessa has just called for a code purple moments ago, she must have been informed somehow…
Lothrius elbows his side as subtly as he can, although it's Syrana who saves the two of them as, after a fleeting glance Illidan's way, recalls the group's attention. "Speaking of it, have you, maybe, seen Lady Stareye?" She asks Lady Ailen, sliding a friendly arm across the woman's shoulders, slowly yet surely leading her away from her family and the crowded lobby. "I've heard near the entire Rooksguard would be around tonight, but oddly enough, I've only met Captain Ravencrest and his daughter so far,"
Figuring out it's useless to question how in the hell Hargo is able to speak into his mind, Illidan takes a blind chance and tries to reply to his voice, feeling silly as he hasn't the slightest idea what's he doing. "Where are you, Hargo?" He thinks inwardly as if he'd be doing with a magic spell. "It must have been Mylenne who tipped you off! Can you hear me at all?"
Apparently, he doesn't seem to, still invading Illidan's mind without pause. Look, neither I nor my men can do anything until Mylenne's safely retrieved from her father and his warriors. Not if we're being surrounded by all flanks as we seem to be. By now, our best chance is to hold off until the end of the ceremony, at best...
"Yes, I left her with her father moments ago," Lady Ailen acknowledges, and Illidan's head feels like about to explode as he tries to catch up with many lines of conversation at once. "And now that you mention that, Syrana, is there a chance we perhaps can… speak in private for a moment?"
"Milady, I'm afraid Duchess Lunastre has just summoned everyone to the gardens," Lord Nyellus interrupts, stopping the women from going elsewhere, "Want us to join you or would you rather wait for your mother?"
Lady Astravar hesitates for a split second, looking like considering her options. However, she seems to give up easily. "Go ahead, then. Actually, why don't take my guards with you?" She adds with an annoyed tilt of her head, walking away already. "Mother has a fair share to spare anyways…"
Feeling utterly lost in his thoughts and worries, Illidan gives up as well and just allows his feet to guide the way among the crowd of nobles, following an eager Lothrius and a suspiciously silent Syrana to the gardens.
Below a huge Moonwell and at the end of a walkway made of polished cobblestones, Duchess Ly'leth Lunastre finally shows herself, accompanied by her family and some other important members of her Court. Only a polite smile narrows her face, keeping silent and patiently waiting as her guests arrive and gather around; Syrana, Lothrius, and Illidan joining the Astravars at the right of the sidewalk, partially blending among the nobles.
After everyone has seemed to arrive and the gardens go silent, the Duchess finally begins her greeting. "My Lords and Ladies, I am most grateful to be graced with your presence tonight. Know that the gates of my Palace are always open for you," Her voice is soothing and warm, yet it doesn't do anything for Illidan as, worryingly so, doesn't find the faces he's looking for as he searches for them among the crowd, if subtly.
"This evening, I would like to indulge ourselves in a celebration; one for our union and commitment, yet not merely for pledging to the Great House of Lunastre, but for all of us as a family, happily gathered under the same roof by the will of the Goddess,"
A respectful round of applause follows, "If you please, I would like you to join me and witness as we announce a new arisen House under our wing, and formally declare the one who will represent the Lunastres as our honored main vassals," Their host continues, a bunch of crimson and black dressed soldiers from the Rooksguard finally making their appearance, politely prompting the nobles to clear the walkway to the Duchess.
The gates to the gardens open wide afterwards, revealing a trio Illidan hadn't thought he'd ever see together before—yet untying an invisible knot in his stomach nonetheless, sweet relief flooding through him.
"Now welcome Lord Captain Kur'talos of House Ravencrest and his daughter, Lady Illysanna, joined by her suitor, Lord Conjurer Thalerian. You may approach," Duchess Ly'leth announces, goading them over with an elegant tilt of her head.
Captain Ravencrest saunters up front, chin held up proudly, his black cloak fluttering in the wind, Illysanna and Thalerian following him with arms linked, a ceremonial silver gown draped over their attires. "Who would have said, she certainly looks hot with some makeup…" Syrana can't seem to stop herself from commenting, thankfully keeping her voice low, only for Illidan and Lothrius to hear.
The new Lord of the uprising House bows gracefully before his Duchess, then moves aside for his daughter and betrothed to step further, facing her as well. "Lady Ravencrest," At the mention of her name, Illysanna brings a knee down before Lunastre, eyes meeting the floor. "With your union to the next-in-line Magister of the Moon Guard, do you pledge to represent and commit to the best interests of your Great House among Suramar's Court and the city's denizens, above all else?"
"May Elune be my witness." Lady Illysanna vows with sheer pride in her voice, not yet meeting her Duchess' face until said so.
Next to Illidan, Lothrius leans closer to Syrana's ear. "Does this mean you won't get to bang Thalerian anymore?"
Their friend snorts in amusement, trying to playfully elbow Lothrius' gut. "Eh, it's just an engagement," Syrana remarks, glancing past her shoulder, "Besides, maybe that girl would need some private classes on how to be a noble Lady, and who would I be to dare decline such nice fresh meat?"
"Then rise, Milady, and carry on with my blessing and the Goddess'." Lunastre outstretches a hand to the Lady, prompting her up with a smile on both their faces. "You now stand as a vassal of the Great House of Lunastre. Elun'dorini talah."
Turning to Illysanna's back, Thalerian moves her hair out of the way with delicacy, gracefully adorning her neck with a Jai'sural as the ancient tradition demands, a silver-white precious stone in the form of a tear shimmering faintly once the necklace is tied up on her neck. As the Duchess draws the sign of the Goddess upon them both, the couple faces each other, joining hands.
"With this favor, you are to be my lifemate," The two of them chant in unison, not drawing their eyes away from the other, "From this night until the Mother Moon calls upon one of us to join in Her loving embrace."
The precious stone in Illysanna's neck stops shimmering as their chant finishes, another loud round of applause following from the crowd as the Ravencrests courtly regard the nobles, then stepping aside to join the rest of the Houses. The gardens fill up with chattering not much after, yet Illidan's attention is caught by another bunch of Rooksguards and Moonguards alike approaching from the Estate's main hall—a very odd sight to be seen. Crimson and purple cloaks wave in the air as Warriors and Sorcerers dutifully stride together to stand in attention next to all the exits, effectively flanking the crowd of nobles gathering in the center.
Illidan's hairs stand on end—Hargo seems to have been pretty much right with his suspicions. But where could he or the Stareyes be, for the matter?
"Uh, oh…"Apparently so, another thing appears to catch Syrana's eye, accidentally bumping into Illidan as she takes a step back. "Hey, Lid, dear, why don't we just go? This is getting boring already and—"
Already getting shivers all over with being in a very precarious position, Illidan startles when Syrana clutches his wrist, pulling him away. "What? What have you seen?" He tries peeking past the multitude, sensing danger all around them.
But their friends only achieve to make Illidan grow more suspicious as Lothrius suddenly grabs him by the shoulder, both pulling him away in an insistent manner. "Yeah, surely Lady Astravar wouldn't mind us leaving. Come on!" Lothrius goads him on, Syrana already trying to make way for them to leave.
However, they don't get too far before the gardens shroud in complete silence once again, their host returning to her previous spot, everyone waiting for another speech. "Now, I would like to appoint and introduce the main vassals of our Great House." Duchess Lunastre announces to the crowd, her warm voice all that can be heard as, through the corner of Illidan's eye, she outstretches an arm to the gates. "Please welcome Lord Commander Desdel of House Stareye and his daughter, Lady Mylenne,"
Untangling himself from his friend's grasp rather harshly, Illidan's breath hitches for some reason, that sense of danger within him reaching its peak as he turns on his tracks, a very bad feeling making his heart race. Not minding Lothrius and Syrana calling for him, he takes some advantage of his height and searches for a better view.
Only to regret following his instincts, just as fast as he catches sight of Mylenne's violet mane at the walkway—a ceremonial gown draped over her dress, arm linked to someone he'd completely forgotten about.
"… Joined by her suitor, Lieutenant-Commander Jarod of House Shadowsong,"
A-N: (Yeah, it's not just you - my head is also pounding with the Kill Bill look right now, LOL! But mind you, it's not the worst cliffhanger I'd left you with already, so shush!)
(No, really, please don't kill me DDDD:)
First of all, my sincere apologies for the damn lot amount of characters in this chapter. But ugh, you know, it's a big event, and everyone has an important role on this, so I think it's kind of important to at least mention their names. I'm more than willing to answer any questions you may have, though!
Truth is, I intended to leave you with a worse cliffhanger than this one, but the update was kinda getting out of my hands, so I thought it could be better to finish it here for now.
Good news is, I'm very happy - and relieved, AHEM - to say we're literally halfway through Starsurge! Yeah, yeah, shit didn't hit the fan JUST YET, but you're smart enough, and I believe you're pretty much aware that's exactly what's going to happen in the next part :D
In the meantime, you can find me still working on my crappy art - but drawing the boyzzzzz! - to survive another day, or just begging people to commission me or either buy me a ko-fi before going bankrupt. Overall, all in a day's work, but just know I'll always have time for you and your encouragement and support is what really keeps me going
