Funny thing about that last chapter. In the original plot of this story, I never planned to kill off Hanaak. But I found that it would be a much better twist. So yeah, it just kinda happened. Whoops.
Majiave crawled to Hanaak's collapsing body, cradling him as a mother would her child. His crimson blood seeped onto her armor and hair, staining the silver red. She paid no attention to Lindrith as she backed up a few steps, her own eyes wide with shock. It was possible her mission wasn't to kill Hanaak but to bring him back alive.
Majiave grasped Hanaak's hands, lacing her fingers with his. Silver light briefly flashed, washing over Hanaak and stopping the bleeding. However, not even that could help him now. A choked sob wracked her body as she realized the truth, tears streaming from her silver eyes. The crimson within was gone. Hanaak's lips curled upwards into a pained yet genuine smile. His trembling hand reached up, brushing away the gossamer strands of silver that had fallen out of place on his beloved. "Shhh...don't cry." His voice was soft. It was obvious he didn't have much longer. Majiave continued to cry anyway.
"No, you can't leave me!" She said in between sobs. "Please, just hold on a little bit longer! Please!" Her voice took on the tone of begging, but she stopped once he shook his head.
"I'm happy it was me instead of you, my love. Please, don't be destroyed by grief." His hand caressed her cheek weakly, his eyes straining. "You know that isn't what I would want..." Majiave nodded and moved her own hand to grasp his tightly. She lowered her face to his own, gently kissing him before pulling back.
"I love you, Hanaak." The tauren druid smiled sadly as his eyes glazed over, his last breath escaping his mouth. Thunder boomed in the sky, the sun suddenly blocked out by dark clouds. Majiave turned her face upwards as the rain began to gently fall on her face. She opened her lips and wailed in her grief, lightning illuminating her sorrow-stricken face, thunder roaring in the distance like an angry nightsaber.
Her beloved, her entire world, was dead.
Time had gone by slowly after his death. Majiave no longer slept, hardly ate, nor did she smile. Her once light lavender skin had turned pale, almost as if she was a ghost. It was as like all the color had drained out of her. But that wasn't because of Hanaak's death.
That was because his corpse was stolen.
She had no idea how such an event occurred, but apparently, the people carrying his body to Thunder Bluff were ambushed. Not one of them survived, and there was ample evidence of the Scourge being the culprits.
The night elf kept herself locked in her room and allowed no one in except her mother.
Majiave was inside. You couldn't tell she was crying except for the tears slipping beneath her lashes. But Tyrande knew without even looking at her. Silently, the other elf came over to her daughter and sat on the bed beside her. She gently put an arm around the elf's neck, allowing Majiave's head to rest on her chest. "Darling, you need to stop this. Hanaak wouldn't want this..." She stirred slightly, glaring at Tyrande with silver eyes glittering with tears.
"I don't care what he wants anymore. His body was stolen, and he was more than likely turned." Tyrande said nothing after the retort given to her by her daughter in grief. Instead, she looked over at the simple white rose that was in a crystalline vase. The petals were stained with crimson and drooping slightly. Tyrande knew that after Majiave came back to Darnassus, she began looking into the rose that Hanaak had given her.
Apparently, it was called the Weeping Rose. It was a special rose that only powerful druids could make, and it was given to the druid's lifelong mate as a sign of love and unity. However, when the giver of the rose died, the petals would begin to blossom crimson, and they would start to wither and die. Tyrande silently got up from the bed and went over to the rose, stroking the petals sadly. "It truly is a beautiful rose." She mused. She had no idea what to say. What could you say to your daughter after her fiancé was killed by her own sister?
Majiave looked up in shock, her face stained with tears. "Y-yeah, I suppose it is..." Her voice was laced with confusion at Tyrande's musings. Tyrande turned to face her, silver eyes looking over her daughter, graceful lips curling into a frown.
"Then you should know Hanaak wouldn't want you to do this. You need to take care of yourself." There it was, the reasoning. Majiave's hands curled upwards into fists. Her bangs hid her eyes, but Tyrande could see crimson shining through the silver strands. Don't tell me she's free...? Majiave was shaking with fury, her pale lips quivering as well. Tyrande could sense the anger building inside her daughter. However, instead of furious fire she expected, she had gotten water.
Tears began to fall from Majiave's eyes once more as her legs buckled as she began weeping uncontrollably. Her voice was dangerously soft as she spoke. "They took my Hanaak..." Tyrande now understood. Hanaak was everything to her daughter, just as Malfurion was everything to her. Shame flooded the high priestess, and she went onto the ground beside Majiave. Comfortably stroking her long, gossamer silver hair, she leaned down to whisper in her ear.
"There has been spottings of a death knight within the Plaguelands that looks just like Hanaak. Although, he calls himself Arlin. If you go there, you'll be able to see him and decide for yourself." Majiave nodded slightly and sniffed, drawing her delicate fingers across her eyes, wiping away her tears.
"I will." Majiave looked up at her mother. There was no longer pain in her eyes; just pure determination. "Thank you, mother."
Majiave lifted her nose, sniffing the air. The land smelled of sickly sweet carrion. But even though, it felt great to be beneath the sun once more, the sparking beams reflecting off her silver hair and making it glow like the light of the moon.
"About time you got here!" Majiave looked to her left, seeing Alyria in one of the trees. A smirk curved her peach lips as she jumped down. "So, I take it Tyrande told you?" Majiave nodded sadly and Alyria placed a hand on her shoulder.
"At least he's alive again..." Majiave whispered, looking down at her feet. "Even if it's as a death knight." The high elf nodded ruefully and removed her hand.
"Sadly, we're not going after him at the moment. You remember the Scarlet Crusade I assume?" Majiave let out a frosty laugh.
"Who could forget them? They torture anyone who they believe is connected to the Scourge." She rubbed the left side of her face, tracing over the large, ugly scar that cut across her flesh near her eye. Her gossamer hair normally covered the scar, but at times during battle, it would fall out of place. Remembering her torture, courtesy of Sally Whitemane, was painful, for it was something she never wished to experience-or anyone else to-again. She shook her head, forcing such memories away as she would a cobweb. They wouldn't help whatsoever.
"Indeed. But at least they'll never return in the numbers they were in." Alyira said, trying to lighten the mood. But not even her voice that was like the light of the sun could breach the cloud line that was Majiave's misery. She just nodded curtly, unable to form words.
"I-I think I'll scout out for a little bit. See if I can find any Scarlet Crusaders and confirm the rumors that they're locked in battle with the Scourge's forces." Majiave quickly jumped on her frostsaber and rode out without waiting for a response from Alyria.
She did not know how much time passed, but it didn't matter to her. Her faithful companion slowed its pace, stalking cautiously on the bloodsoaked earth that made a squelching sound whenever a paw was set upon it. She looked at her surroundings. Cinders flew in the suddenly crisp air, and signs of decay were easily seen, making Majiave feel sick to her stomach. She hated how a once beautiful forest could turn into this. She dismounted and walked upon the blood-soaked earth, her delicate nostrils flaring at the scent of burning flesh. She could see the tattered banners of the Scourge flapping wildly, the fire illuminating them.
She saw no signs of life. Not even a rat or cockroach.
Bile rose in her throat as she saw blackened bodies hacked to pieces and shattered blades scattered half hazardously around the area. Then she saw a bloodied tabard of the Scarlet Crusade strapped to one of the bodies that wasn't burned. His eyes stared at nothing, and there were multiple grievous wounds covering his body. His stomach and throat were slashed open, flies buzzing around the areas, and half of his face was ravaged as if a ghoul started snacking on him but never finished.
"Unless you wish to end up like him, I suggest you leave immediately." Majiave spun around at the voice and came face-to-face with a tauren. His eyes glowed a dark blue, and his lips curled into a sinister smile. "It's been awhile, hasn't it, my love?"
He spoke with the voice of her deceased lover. He looked like him, down to the way his fur was sticking up and the way his eyes were shaped. He laughed at her horrified expression. It wasn't the laugh she loved so much.
It was a cruel, hollow laugh. One that sent shivers of fear through her. "You don't look so well, my dear Majiave. You look as if you've seen a ghost!" He was taunting her, and it broke her heart.
He's no longer the man I once loved. He's a monster. A murderer...
She bit her lip as she gazed into his cold eyes. She could feel something struggling inside her. Something that wished for freedom and join him. She couldn't allow that to happen. "Who are you, monster?" The words passed from her lips before she thought better of them.
The death knight smiled again and pulled her closer to him. "Perhaps this'll remind you?" He leaned down and his bloodless lips crashed against hers. Majiave struggled to breathe, pounding her hands against his plate armor. Her eyes began to produce tears and soft sobs were muffled by his cold lips. He then separated and looked down at her.
"You're lucky that I have other orders I must follow at the moment. If I didn't, I'd gladly kill you here and now. Until we meet again, Majiave." He strode away, leaving the shocked huntress alone. Her trembling hand lifted toward her lips, feeling the curve of them.
Hanaak...
Her knees buckled before she crashed to the blood-soaked earth. Sobs wracked her body as she held her hands to her quivering lips. "Why... Why did it have to be him...?" She had fought against countless enemies who had failed to break her. She had defeated an old god, her own uncle, and even one of the Demon Lords of the Burning Legion. They all had failed to break her iron will.
But now, her beloved was an agent of the Scourge. He murdered in the Lich King's name. She couldn't do anything to save him, or anyone she cared about. It was only a matter of time before death came like a wave and swallowed them all whole.
She knew it was over. But she wouldn't falter. She would fight until her dying breath. She swore it upon Elune's sacred name.