Smoke and Fire

[lionofthelight]

Teldrassil Burns!

That’s how it had all begun, at least for Zandros Alter. A voice shouting in the night, waking the manor despite the hour.

Teldrassil burns.

Days had passed, and it was all that could pass the lips of each dour face he met. A gift from the dragons, the last great stronghold of the Night Elves, a place said to be blessed by the so-called Goddess Elune, burned. Every face was fallen. After a tenuous peace, once again achieved only by the near-destruction of their world, it was war again. The Horde demanded blood. The dead, more of their own.

In just a day Stormwind's streets were over-full with the homeless, their clothes and their faces still soot-stained and bloodied. Refugees who could escape by portal and – days later – by hippogryph or boat slept in the streets without possessions or direction. They crowded the walkways, some searching for their loved ones, some resigned to their loss. The spiritually and physically wounded blocked the shops and alleyways and stared sightlessly at the people who passed.

Those who had not lost hope rallied for war. They donned their armor and their weapons, and those who had lost their own found replacements from the blacksmiths who toiled at their forges. It was a sweltering summer, and hotter and louder in the Dwarven district than Zandros had ever felt or heard. The whole city radiated like a furnace and screamed with the pounding of hammer on metal. He passed veterans ten lifetimes older than himself and felt the hated in their scarred and twisted faces as strongly as if it were directed at him.

For the first time in a decade, Zandros Alter felt unsafe in his own city.

Perhaps because he knew. He knew that despite it all, there would be consequences. For Sylvanas. For the Horde. Perhaps even for him. Evil had to be met, battled, and bested. He knew that. But for the first time in his life, he wished he could reject it.

He had rejected his duties as an officer, after all. He had resigned his title and returned fully to civilian life, where he had, most vexingly, been forced to continue the fight. And hadn’t he just won? Hadn’t he done what he had to do, won what he had to win?

And now this. This summons.

Zandros crushed the paper in his fist and shouldered his way, increasingly angry, through group after group of the righteous warriors of Elune. The Grand Marshal’s office wasn’t far, but it would take another half hour of sweating in the summer heat, pushing past the vengeful and the lost only to find himself on the wrong end of a long line of men and women waiting for their chance to see the commander. He didn’t frequently wish for the foreign luxuries of the world of his family-to-be, but he couldn’t count the times he wished for air conditioning in the hours that followed.

Finally, his moment came to meet the Grand Marshall.

He entered the office with the fury of the elves, gripping his summons like they held their glaives.

And he left with silence of the lost ones.

Comments

[heirtothedragonsfire]

Loosening her grip on her Earth workplace to transition to Nexus tasks meant she had more time at home. Right now that was both a blessing and a curse. Her routine was flexible, but also lacking distraction. It had taken her a long time to settle to sleep, and had only managed to after pacing for what seemed like hours. There were so many questions, and the only answers were ones she couldn't accept.

Eventually she had worn herself down and settled to bed with a heavy tome on magical military tactics that was several centuries out of date. That had been enough to push her over the edge into sleep.

It had been a mostly uneventful dream until those last moments, which devolved into a now familiar horror story. Monsters with too many limbs that might have been human once climbing the walls and dragging themselves along the ground. She wishes she had Viatorus' control, his ability to banish them into the back of her mind, but all she could do was force herself to wake up.

Isidor.

Wake up.

It's warm. A perfect temperature. Except for her cheek. Except for her shoulder. Dread is stuck in her throat from the dream, and although her eyes are heavy with sleep her heart is hammering as she blearily looks to her shoulder. And sees a hand. Just a hand.

Whose hand it is doesn't occur to her. Just that it's absent of a body and that it spurs on the realisation that something is also touching her face. She yells and the chill that crawls across her body accumulates into a pulse of magic that sends everything -book, hand, coffee mug, lamp- flying.

Only then, when she lowers her arms and there are no hands on her anymore, does she realise someone's standing in the doorway. She blinks, wide eyed as her brain slowly processes the familiarity of those glowing eyes. Still on edge, she squints and finally croaks, "Harrowheart?"

[westfallcorndog]

The scream staggers him -- or is it the magic that throws his hand off? He feels the way it hits the wall, then the floor, and his instinct is to shake his arm as if his hand were still attached to it.

Only when she says his name does he know he's safe to step into her room. "It's me," he whispers loudly.

He hurries toward her and crouches at the side of her bed. In the dark it's difficult to tell, but despite it all there's a smile on his face. "Didn't mean to scare ya, but I figured if I was any closer when I woke ya up you might chop me in the throat."

His hands float up and his fingers grip the edge of the bed as if they're all that keep him there. He looks up at her in the darkness, and as time passes he finds it harder to smile.

"Am I allowed to be here?"

He bites his lip.

"What I mean is... Will you allow me to be here? Do you still want to see me? After everything?"

[heirtothedragonsfire]

In the doorway of her bedroom he's like a shade, a shadow she doesn't quite believe is there. After all her fretting just a few hours ago, she has to wonder if this is a dream. So she stares, confused, as he comes over to her and crouches by her bed. She barely hears him, and doesn't quite see the hopefulness making his features so uncertain.

The fact that he's real, that this isn't a dream, finally sinks in. Isidor swings her legs over the edge of the bed and lunges at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and hugging him as tightly as she can.

"I thought you were gone," she whispers desperately into his ear. "I thought they'd sent you away already."

[westfallcorndog]

In her arms that quickly, with that much conviction, there's no need to doubt. He returns her embrace and holds her closely with his arms around her middle. He rests his head against her chest and listens to her breathe, and after one long, powerful squeeze – one moment to get as close to her as he possibly can – he begins to relax. His arms remain around her and his face and chest become a heavy weight against her. He closes his eyes, and with a long breath he takes in the smell of her.

"I couldn't go without seein' you," he whispers.

He hugs her near one more time before slowly releasing her to have the chance to see her face again.

"I slipped away as soon as I could. I got a few hours 'til the sun comes up back home, and then they'll be expectin' me. I tried to get out of it. I told Command I wouldn't go. They said if I disobeyed the order they'd execute me the next time they saw me. Reforge my runeblade and all. I show my face tomorrow or never again."

He shakes his head. His hands find her knees and squeeze.

"But I'm not scared. Okay? I'm not scared, and I don't want you goin' and bein' scared–"

He stops himself abruptly and lingers on what he's just said. The lights of his eyes shift as he takes in the dim sight of her face... And, quietly, he huffs a tiny laugh.

"Not that anything scares you." He tries for a smile and squeezes her knee again.

[heirtothedragonsfire]

Fabric runs across her palms as he pulls back and a bittersweet, fearful little voice says that she should savour it. That's how it should always have been. She should have savoured every moment up until now, but she didn't, did she? Seeing his face now, outlined by the glow of his eyes, she frowns. A frustrated little flick of her hand smoothes it out a bit as the light comes on and she can see him properly. Not as if they were skulking about in the night. Which is in fact exactly what they're doing, much as she wishes she could deny that.

Her shoulders go slack as he speaks. So he already tried to get out of it. She doesn't want to talk about being scared, because she is scared. She's terrified in a strange, anxious way she's never felt before. Instead she asks what she suspects she already knows the answer to.

"What if I talked to them? What if I said you had to stay to ensure political stability? I could talk to people. I could arrange something." Running through as many solutions as she can, she leans closer, determined. "I could challenge 'Command' to a duel. I could make them let you stay."

[westfallcorndog]

Harrowheart doesn't respond -- not immediately. He lets her words sink into his mind. What if she spoke to them? Well, he knows what would happen. What if she played an angle? Said he was needed elsewhere? Without realizing, he begins to shake his head. And to duel them? Well, he wants to think she'd win. But...

"Isidor," he rasps. Being able to see her face in the nee light as he says her name is such a feeling. He tries to smile, but guilt weighs his effort down.

"I only got a few hours with you. Let's not worry about 'what if's that can't be. Let's spend the time we got while we got it. Like we always have. Let's talk like nothin's different. 'Cause it ain't. Ain't that right? Nothin's gonna change. After tonight, whatever comes next... That's just business as usual for me. More than I'm used to, but nothin' I ain't ever seen before."

His hands move upward and once again he's cupping her cheek and holding her shoulder. He looks up at her, and now his smile is more sincere.

"I made it through worse when I had a whole lot less to live for. Sylvanas ain't gonna kill me. She ain't got any right to, after all. Only one woman out there gets to decide if I live or die." He winks.

His hand drifts from her cheek and he runs his fingers through her hair.

"This is the place we had our first kiss. You remember that? And you remember the night before? It was a bad time, and a bad night... But it was a good mornin', wasn't it? Why don't you remind me how it went? The way you remember it."

[heirtothedragonsfire]

Even with the sweetness of his gentle pleas to put aside these thoughts of hers, she watches him with a hard frown. He's asking her to relinquish control of this situation. If he just supported her, and let her take this bull by the horns, she's sure she could wrestle it into submission. She'd find a way. It might not be quick, or easy, or pretty, but she could do it. Instead he asks her softly to let this go. He asks her not to go looking for control. He asks her to trust him. To trust in his words and his promises.

Warm hands curl into fists and her nails dig into her skin. Why is it that with all her position and power and wealth, she has to stay quieter than the Archon himself? It's not right. It's not fair.

She has to trust him. She doesn't have to be happy with it. She just has to trust him.

With a long blink, she swallows and looks down at the space between them. "I remember your solution to me having a nightmare was to crack open the drinks and tell me dirty jokes." Despite the vaguely disapproving voice, the corner of her mouth twitches in a smile and she meets his gaze. "I guess it worked. I don't remember much about the nightmare. Unless you count the nightmare of having to get up for work the next day."

"I was so busy, so distracted with thoughts of meetings and schedules and paperwork. My mind was a million miles away and then..." Her features soften without her even realising it, melting into an affectionate little smile. "You brought me back to you with a strong hand and soft lips..." And with that she leans in, taking his lips in hers with the lightest of lingering kisses.

[westfallcorndog]

How pleasant it is to hear the story from her own perspective. He's smiling up to the moment she joins them in a kiss, where the past gives way to the present. He leans into her touch and closes his eyes, and he doesn't pull away until she does.

"Tonight won't be so different," he whispers as he finally makes his way up and onto the bed. "You'll remember the good parts and forget the bad."

He brushes a strand of hair from her face and spends a moment considering the sight of her.

"I'm gonna be worried about you while I'm gone. I'd feel better if you let me leave you somethin' to keep you safe."

The lights of his eyes search her face.

"My runeblade," he finally says. "The right half. The important half. I wanna leave it here with you, to look out for you. In case you need it."