A/N: Hello, my lovelies. Did everyone have a nice holiday? Yes? Good. Excited for the new year? I mean, what's not to be excited about? Warcraft movie, Legion, Ashbringer belonging to my baby paladin…
Anyway, I digress. Another chapter for you. I'd like to say we're about a third of the way in, but I keep coming up with things to add, and then taking multiple chapters and mashing them together, so my timeline is actually a mess right now.
Ps- Major shoutout to Blame the Priest for her unending knowledge of all things related to Blood Elves. Seriously impressive. Between the two of us, we will know many things about elves. Yes.
Leave me some love? I desperately need it right now. Motivation...waning... -Skye xx
...
seven
Malfurion made his way deep into the woods without any real regard of where he was going. He moved as if being guided by some invisible force, keeping his eyes closed for long periods of time as he listened to the spirits of the forest lead him further in. These lands had been damaged horribly, almost beyond any hope of repair, just as his own homeland had been. The ground was seared and decayed, the grass trampled and blackened. The trees had withered, entire limbs having fallen into the trails.
More than once, he caught himself wondering just what kind of being might be responsible for whatever had transpired here. These were not like the trails of destruction left behind by the Burning Legion, as he had seen far too many times before. Nor did they resemble the tracks left behind by Illidan and his army of naga. No, whatever had demolished this forest, whatever had destroyed this land, it seemed to have sucked the very life from the lands, drained it very essence and left it clinging desperately to whatever life remained. Such power that could suck the very soul from a living thing, that could kill the forest itself just by passing through, was not one with which Malfurion desired to cross paths.
It only grew worse the further he wandered. He longed desperately to help somehow; perhaps there was something the Druids could do, some way that they might heal these lands and bring the life back into them-
His thoughts were interrupted all at once when the ground started to shake beneath his feet and a sudden, sharp pain shot through him. It radiated in every fiber of his being, echoed in his head like a thousand cries for help. His hand flew to his temple, fingers pressed against it in a vain attempt to ease the agony. The pain was excruciating, unbearable and all around him. It felt as if the very world itself was being torn apart. When he closed his eyes, visions flashed across his mind, flickering images that faded out so quickly it was almost impossible to place them. He saw a vast, endless tundra of ice and a massive mountain that arose from the snow, jutting high into the star-speckled canopy of black. He saw a city in ruins, crumbled buildings torn right from the sky and sent crashing to the ground.
But these scenes were meaningless and unfamiliar to him, in spite of the obvious distress he felt rising from the very earth itself, the anguish and pleas that rang out all around him as the visions were revealed to him. However, there was a final image, one that he could make out clearly, one that he could comprehend, and that was of Illidan, his emerald eyes glistening as they fixated on what Malfurion could only assume to be the Eye of Sargeras. He stood in the center of the ruined city, a defiant look on his face.
"Soon," Illidan murmured aloud, the words seeming almost distorted and amplified within Malfurion's mind. The twisted tattoos upon his skin pulsated in time with the artifact before him. "Soon now, my enemies will be destroyed."
Malfurion's eyes snapped open all at once, the images fading away to darkness. They were running out of time. Illidan's plan would be put into motion soon. He needed to be stopped before whatever devastation he wished to unleash was allowed to do even more harm to their fragile world. He needed to be stopped now.
...
Maiev actually felt her lips part, eyes narrowed as they fixated on the blonde. "Sunstrider?" She repeated. Though it had been a long time since she had heard it, the name was not unfamiliar to her. It dated far back, even before the days of the Sundering and the War of the Ancients; it had belonged to a Highborne that had been in close service of the vile Queen Azshara. Dath'remar had broken away from her during the final scenes of the war, however, along with a few others that wished to aid the resistance. For some time, he had played a prominent role in the leading of the Kaldorei, but over time his thirst for the forbidden use of magic had begun to grow, and eventually they had been banished for their secretive usage of spells.
The Warden had little doubt now, looking at the young elf before her, that he was no doubt some heir of the very same Sunstrider that she had known. She could see it in his face and his eyes, and she had certainly seen his affinity for magic when he had torched half the forest with his casting. "No doubt you are a relative of Dath'remar," she blurted, her thoughts forcing their way through her lips.
Kael tilted his head just slightly, the faintest traces of confusion in his gaze. He hesitated but a moment before nodding.
At that, Maiev let out a laugh, icy and humorless, her own eyes flitting to Tyrande. "Surely you have not forgetting the banishment of the Highborne from our homeland," she said. "This child will probably guide the Legion right to our camp with his reckless uses of magic. I refuse to assist him. I've had enough brushes with demons, thank you."
The navy haired priestess gave a small scowl to the Warden. "That is not your decision to make," she reminded her. "You are not in command here-"
"This is my mission!" Maiev interrupted, digging the tips of her fingers into the harsh leather palm of her gloves. "You came to offer aid, not to pull rank over me. I haven't seen you out here trying to stop Illidan all this time, considering you are the one that allowed him to go free in the first place."
Kael watched the exchange in dull amusement, blinking slowly and leaning in towards the dark haired elf at his side. "And to think, I thought Silvermoon had political turmoil."
Rommath carefully smoothed out the creases in his own red robes. "Don't go and anger them now, please," he urged gently.
Maiev allowed the corners of her lips to twitch into a smirk. "Yes, little elf. Listen to your friend. Angering me is not in your best interest." Pausing for a moment, she couldn't help but add, "Just ask the High Priestess."
Tyrande glowered slightly, her lip curving back into a sneer, though it faded when she refocused her attention on Kael. "What are you doing out here, exactly?" She asked then, her tone far lighter. Once, she would have been wary of trusting any stranger, but she had grown since then, and she had learned that sometimes the greatest of allies were the most unexpected ones of all.
She was surprised to see a bit of the luster fade from Kael's cerulean eyes, his expression shifting almost instantly to something far more strained and filled with sorrow. "We are looking for help," he replied, and Tyrande could hear in the way he spoke that he was trying very hard to sound brave, in spite of the way his voice trembled and his eyes looked like they were runner with the sudden threat of tears. The priestess couldn't help but feel her heart swell with sympathy; whatever troubled this poor child of an elf was obviously severe. His fear radiated off of him, and she could feel it as if it hung tangibly in the air around them.
Swallowing hard, she dared to reach out and place her hand upon his upper arm, hoping that the small gesture might offer some sense of reassurance. "Tell us what's happened, Kael'thas."
The prince let out a small, uneven breath, the kind that caught in his throat and tried to choke him. He allowed his eyes to close for a few second, trying to regain some sense of composure. "An army," he began slowly, when his golden lashes had fluttered open once again. "They marched through my homeland, decimating everything they touched, slaughtering my people and burning our city to the ground."
His words piqued Maiev's curiosity, at least enough that she spoke up. "What sort of army?" She urged, her tone bordering on demanding. "We seek a demon-"
Kael was quick to shake his head, before she could even finish her sentence. "They were led by a human prince, Arthas Menethil. I was still in Dalaran when it happened. I-I couldn't have known, not until it was too late..." A small shudder moved through his lithe figure, and almost without thinking Rommath extended a hand to rest upon his shoulder. Maiev watched the way the dark haired elf bowed his head as if trying to hide the faint blush that had tinged his cheeks. "Everything's been destroyed, and I'm left to pick up the pieces," Kael went on. "The city is ruined, and there are too many dead to even count. And the Sunwell…"
Apparently, this was as much as Kael felt he was able to say on the matter. But whatever horrors he had seen, Tyrande could see them too, reflected in his crystalline blue eyes. She could see the burdens he carried within him, the struggle and fear. She imagined it was something close to the way she herself had appeared all those thousands of years ago, when the Legion had destroyed her home and she had been the one left to try and make sense of whatever rubble was left. She understood the feeling of complete devastation at realizing all you had ever known was gone. More than anything, she understood the dread of responsibility, of failure, or letting down everyone that depended upon her.
Tucking a long strand of thick dark hair behind her long ear, she glanced only briefly at Maiev before returning her attention to Kael and giving a quick nod. "I grieve for your people, young prince. But you must not allow rage and despair to poison your heart. You may lead your people to a brighter future."
Kael said nothing to that, just bowed his head slightly in a simple show of respect. From where she hovered beside the High Priestess, Maiev crinkled her nose in mild disgust at the scene before her. No doubt Tyrande thought that she herself had done just that for their people. But, remembering their truce, she quickly smoothed out her expression, returning instead to her blank stare of apparent disinterest.
"What sort of aid do you seek?" Tyrande asked of Kael'thas then.
The blonde looked to Rommath, who had yet to remove his hand from where it lingered upon his robes, like he depended entirely on the other elf to tell him what it was they were doing, like he had completely forgotten how to handle anything on his own. There were a few silent seconds that passed between them, some wordless conversation that the pair of women could merely observe but never hope to understand, years of trained practice at speaking without ever having to say a word.
Eventually, though, Kael rerouted his attention to Tyrande. "We have been plighted by Undead ever since we left Quel'thalas," he explained. "We were hoping to seek refuge across the river, but many of our warriors have already fallen, and we fear losing anymore when there are so few of us to begin with."
The navy haired elf contemplated this for but a moment. "Perhaps we could help you."
At that, Maiev's lips parted, her brows raising quickly. "Wait, hold on," she interrupted. "We don't have the time to spare. Illidan-"
Tyrande shot her a silencing glare. "Perhaps once Kael'thas and his people are safe from the Undead, they would lend us aid in return in helping us hunt Illidan down," she countered.
The prince gave a quick, definitive nod. His expression brightened almost instantly, a bit of his trepidation fading away and leaving in its place that same easy charisma he'd worn so well only moments before. "It would be an honor, milady," he replied, that velvety voice taking over once more, chasing away the hesitation and fear, neither of which had seemed to suit him all that well to begin with. "We have a small camp set up close to here; come, join us, please. We shall rally the others."
With that, he turned on his heel, crimson robes swaying around him as he did. Rommath removed his hand at last, letting it slide down Kael's back in a quick and subtle motion, and turned as well, trailing off after the blonde, never once daring to stray out of arm's reach. Tyrande was intent on following quickly behind, not eager to lose herself to the thickness of the fog and haze that had settled in upon the lands. But she barely managed to take a single step when Maiev's plate-entombed hand reached out to snap around her wrist, the grip perhaps too tight, too forceful, as she yanked the priestess back into place.
"This is a waste of time," she spat, the flames of her anger and irritation burning clearly in her eyes. But Tyrande had never been bothered by the Warden and her volatile emotions, not even when they were younger, and so she didn't even flinch at the way Maiev bared her teeth. "We are supposed to be looking for Illidan, not absolving our personal guilt by handing out assistance to anyone whose path we cross."
The priestess narrowed her silvery eyes, ripping free of Maiev's hold upon her. "I have no guilt to absolve," she snapped quickly. "Dath'remar Sunstrider aided us against the Legion during the great war, and now our chance has finally come to repay that debt."
Maiev chose to swallow back her words, her reminders of how Dath'remar and his Highborne brethren had, in turn, betrayed them, had deceived them and been banished from their forests. She chose not to point out that they owed absolutely nothing to this whimpering child and his wayward companions, that they had their own missions, her missions, and that Tyrande extended her authority too far. Instead, she opted for crossing her arms tightly over her chest and fixating her icy gaze straight ahead as she started off in the direction Kael and Rommath had gone. "Just remember," she called out after her. "If Illidan succeeds in causing any more destruction, it will be because of you." Pausing, she halted and threw a single, pointed glance back over her shoulder. "But then, it already is, I suppose. Since you're the one who let him out and all."
Tyrande replied only with her deadliest glare, jutting out her chin and taking a few easy, graceful strides to shoulder past the younger of the two women.
So much for a truce, then.
…
Kael'thas had not been exaggerating when he spoke of just how few of them there were. When the unlikely group reached the small encampment, Maiev did a quick sweep of the area, estimating maybe a hundred at best. They looked tired, worn down and utterly hopeless, a dangerous combination that left soldiers off their guard. But there was something else, some overwhelming sense of pain that seemed almost tangible in the air around her, a physical sort of pain that showed itself in the dark circles under the elves' eyes, and the way their hands trembled every so often.
Within moments of their arrival, another painfully young elf with raven black hair came rushing up to the prince, his chest rising with his hurried breaths. He paused only long enough to dip his chin before his tumbled words came spilling out. "Your Highness, Sir, another band of Undead moved in from the east," he reported. "We managed to take them down, sustaining only minor injuries, but we've lost more ground. I fear that soon we'll be overrun entirely-"
Kael held up a hand to silence the man. "Thank you, Sanguinar," he murmured, waving them off with a quick flick of his wrist. Letting out a short sigh, he gave an apologetic glance to the others. "I suppose I should go and make sure everyone is okay."
"I'll help you," Tyrande offered quickly. "I can heal the wounded, at the very least."
Kael allowed his worried expression to fall away for but a moment, allowing that same signature smirk to creep its way across his face. If not for the fact that she had a terrible feeling about all of this welling in the pit of her stomach, she might have almost admired his ability to regain his composure so abruptly, to switch his moods with little more than the snap of his fingers. It was something with which she herself had always struggled, keeping control over herself. It was why she forced herself to cling to her cool exterior and empty interior, for she feared that if she were to falter for even a moment, she would never be able to put herself back together again.
"You do too much, High Priestess," the blonde murmured gently, his eyes gleaming devilishly at her. "Perhaps later you can show me what else you're capable of doing."
In spite of herself, Tyrande felt the slightest of blushes tinting her cheeks, honestly unsure if she had ever heard such brazen words spoken to her before. But she was quick to shake her head, running her fingers through her long tresses before tossing them over her shoulder. "Sorry to disappoint, Your Majesty. I'm quite spoken for."
Kael tilted his head just slightly. "That so? You don't strike me as the type that lets a man tell her what to do." Still, he shrugged it off, looking back towards Maiev. "What about you, sweetheart? You want me to show you to my tent?"
Maiev hardened her gaze. "Absolutely not," she snapped impatiently. "Proposition me again and you can become acquainted with my blade."
The prince replied with only a sharp laugh, genuinely amused, before muttering something that sounded like "suit yourself" and making his way down towards the camp with Tyrande in tow. For a few painfully long, drawn out moments, Maiev stood alone in her own seething silence, frustrated with Tyrande and with this new delay in her quest to hunt Illidan and this golden haired prince that seemed to believe all the world existed only to cater to his personal desires.
Only, she wasn't alone, a fact of which she was abruptly reminded when Rommath suddenly cleared his throat, his own azure eyes finally rising from whatever spot on the ground they had been fixated upon. "You'll have to excuse the prince," the younger elf said lowly, under his breath. She was not oblivious to the way he scanned the encampment until his gaze settled upon Kael'thas. Maiev frowned at the way Rommath watched him so intently, his stare moving frantically to keep up as Kael bounced his way from person to person. "The attack on our people...well, it's taken a lot out of him, you see. I know he's trying to hold himself together in the only way he knows how."
The words resonated deeply with the Warden, striking a nerve with her she had not expected. "I understand," she responded, glancing back then to the dark haired elf. "What are you, then?" Her tone far light than it had been before, now that the less desirable company had departed. "His consort?"
The words had been meant teasingly, a playful jab meant to mock the way he hovered as a lover might do. But something dangerous and telling flashed in Rommath's glowing eyes, something that made her own widen. "Oh," she stammered. "I didn't mean-"
"I am the prince's advisor," Rommath replied instantly, almost monotonously. Rehearsed words. He was just an advisor. She had never loved Illidan. Lies that they told everyone, including themselves, so they might make it through the day.
"You love him," she said plainly, neither a question nor an accusation. Merely an observation. "I've lived long enough to tell, even if I have spent most of that life underground. You'll not convince me that you don't, so you might as well save your breath."
Rommath had turned, then, to face her fully, and he stared up at her in muted horror, cheeks flushed and eyes wide. His fingers had dug themselves into the fabric of his robes, twisting and untwisting the material nervously. "I don't- that is, you cant-" he stuttered, finally pausing long enough to suck in a greedy breath. "Nobody knows, that's all."
Maiev pursed her lips, nodding slowly. "Does he know?"
The mage chewed anxiously at his bottom lip for a few agonizing seconds. "Yes," he confessed at last. "I told him a while ago, but I suspect he knew long before that. I've never been the greatest at concealing myself, at least not from him. He- he says he loves me too, and I believe him, really- he's been tolerating me since we were children. And he's a prince, you know, he certainly doesn't have to put up with me if he doesn't wish to."
This, perhaps more than anything, baffled the Warden, a deep frown creasing her brow. Sure, she supposed that she had only really known them for a pathetically short time, but from what she had seen of Kael, he certainly didn't act like someone that was in love. But then, what did she know of love? She'd been caught up in an unrequited love triangle for nearly all the days that she had been alive, one that she had never bothered trying to get out of, because clinging to that final shimmer of fantastical hope was easier than accepting that she would never have a damn thing that she wanted. She was in love with a memory, a ghost of someone long gone. And really, that was the most dangerous sort of love, because there was nothing to remind her that the person was not real, that the memories were all wrong, that the image in her head was a warped and tainted version of the truth. She was in love with the person she had wanted him to be, not the person that he had been, and most of the time it was utterly impossible for her to tell the difference.
"How do you do it?" She blurted, the words falling from her lips without much thought and lingering in the air where she was unable to take them back. Rommath gave her a curious look, a silent prompt to clarify. Swallowing back her trepidation, she said, "How do you stand to love someone that wants someone else? How do you stop it from tearing you apart?"
Rommath moved his hands slowly, deliberately smoothing them over his robes, making no attempt to hide that he was stalling. He mulled over her question, picked apart his thoughts for a long time, trying to find the perfect combination of words to express his feelings. "I suppose," he said at last. "I suppose I realized that having the privilege to love him at all seemed already far more than I deserved, and asking for him to love me back- only me, with all of his heart- was simply selfish and unfair. I would have been happy just to give him my heart, and let him do with it as he wished. But to know that there is a part of him, any part of him al tall, that loves me in return, that desires me, that deems with worthy of his affection...that had always been enough for me. I would rather be granted some of his love than none at all."
Maiev thought on this for a long time, replayed the words back to herself in her mind and tried to comprehend them. She wondered if maybe this sort of partial love could have ever been enough for her, just the comfort in knowing that at one point, for however brief a time, it had been her that Illidan had longed for. But the truth was that she couldn't even know for certain if that had ever been real, and none of it mattered much now anyway. There was no love left in him to give. Not to her. Not to Tyrande. She was clinging on to the ghost of a faded memory, and it was long past the time for her to let it go.
