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]

Silence rings through the room. This is so foreign, so unbelievable to all of them that none of them know how to react.

Viatorus, eyes wide in shock, finally manages, "Is there anything we can do?"

Runa's tries to cover her fallen expression with a hand over her mouth, doing her best not to nibble at her nails. She glances over to Isidor, but the elder Durant has her gaze cast to one side in thought.

If she married Zandros, Isidor wonders, would she be called to war too? Would her children? They would never go, of course. She would never allow it. Stormwind- Azeroth could burn before any children of hers would be dragged into war. And yet, that protectiveness doesn't extend to Zandros, she realises. Her breath catches in her throat.

Harrowheart.

If a noble like Zandros is getting called to war then Harrowheart is, too. He probably already has been called. What if he's gone already? But after the last time they met... Everything is so complicated...

"Excuse me," she croaks and heads into the spare room, head down and one hand on her stomach. As if that might settle it somehow.

[lionofthelight]

Of all the people to become emotional over this, Isidor was the last Zandros expected. Viatorus' surprise and Runa's worry are only natural, but to watch Isidor hurry off... It's unnatural, to say the least.

He looks to where she'd disappeared, spends a second fretting in the lingering silence, and finally turns his attention back to the young couple.

"Viatorus," he begins. "Runa. You've nothing to fret about. The Light will guide me home safely to my new family in the same way that it brought me into your lives. Just as it guided me home from Northrend. I have faced worse evils than the Horde in my time and come out of it alive."

He finds in himself a smile and tries to warm them both with it.

"I was brought into your lives for a reason, that much I believe. And it was not to leave it in war.

"As to what you both might do? I am destined for Lordaeron, that much cannot be denied. But I would ask that... Though you are the Scholar and the Scholar's Patron... You look out for dear Isidor. In my absence I am sure her life will be in turmoil. She will need you both to help her, though I am certain she will neither ask it aloud nor thank you in so many words."

[heirtothearcane]

It's on the tip of his tongue to ask Zandros if that's the truth: Does Isidor love him enough to be distraught by his absence? The hurt lingering in his bones isn't at the paladin, though, and he keeps his thoughts to himself. Instead he nods. "We'll help her as much as we can."

Runa sets a hand on Zandros' arm with a determined frown. "Stay here for a few minutes. Let me get you a protective charm."

She doesn't wait for an answer, letting go to grab her PINpoint and vanish in the blink of an eye. Zandros and Viatorus are left alone in the quiet apartment.

Finally Viatorus, his voice barely more than a whisper, says, "I know you need to protect your family, but I wish you didn't need to go. I wish there was a way I could stop this for you. Is there really nothing any of us can do?"

[lionofthelight]

Now out of sight of Runa and Isidor both, Zandros allows his facade to crack. He wipes his hand across his forehead. He screws his eyes shut, remains silent for a long while, and finally sighs.

"I sincerely wish there was, but I see no escape from this duty. To deny the call and bring my family here, or to your world, would be to surrender our holdings on Azeroth. Without our material means, what use would your family have of me? Surely Lady Durant and the Archon would find a worthy replacement. But if I go to war..."

His face reddens. He can't stop fidgeting--running his hands through his hair, adjusting his collar, redoing the buttons of his jacket.

"Were I to confide in you a fear and mark of shame, could I trust you to keep my secret? From your fiancee, your sister, your family all?"

[heirtothearcane]

"I'm not very good at keeping secrets," Viatorus admits softly. Upon consideration he continues his admission with, "Though I'm not really speaking much with Isidor right now, and my family and I never really spoke much..."

Forcing a wavering smile, he looks up at Zandros again, "But I'm sure it's not that bad. I can't imagine how many things you're worried about right now. It's completely normal, I'm sure of it. No one could judge you for it. Certainly not me."

[lionofthelight]

Viatorus' honesty doesn't exactly inspire confidence. Zandros' face pinches like he's holding back being ill, and then he tries for a queasy smile.

"Perhaps some things are best left unsaid after all. I would not want you to think less of me if I do not return. Rather, let me ask you a favor in the event that I do."

He rubs his hand across his neck and takes in a slow, deep breath. "If I am destined to die in this war against the Forsaken... And if they, or the Knights of the Ebon Blade bring my body back into a cursed existence... And if I haven't the sense of self to end my own suffering... Promise me one of you will? Do not doubt in the moment, no matter what I say or do. It is what my real self would want. That is how you may help me."

[heirtothearcane]

Seeing disappointment is all too common for Viatorus, so his queasy smile back doesn't look entirely different from his standard nervous one. It becomes a little more pronounced, however, at Zandros' request and, at the risk of further disappointing his future brother-in-law, he begins to fidget.

"U-Um... Well. I-I-I can make sure i-it's done. I just... I couldn't do it. Not me. Someone else. B-But not me."

[lionofthelight]

"You are a soft soul, aren't you? Someday you will learn that sometimes causing pain is the only way to do the right thing. But, no. No, I would not expect you to be the one to free me. That you would ensure another did is comfort enough."

He places a hand on Viatorus' shoulder and nods at him.

"Let us only hope that you do not need to ask that of anyone. For both our sakes."

He rises then and looks to the direction Isidor had gone in.

"I ought to put her mind at ease. Retrieve me when Runa returns."

With that he leaves to follow Isidor. He lingers in the door, watching her, waiting for her permission to enter.

[heirtothedragonsfire]

Though he winces at the comment about softness, he can't really dispute it. Disagreeing is the kind of thing that gets you dragged to fox hunts later. Besides, Zandros doesn't seem to mind, so he offers a reassuring little smile and a nod at his instructions. Once the paladin leaves, he sets about making tea. Gods know he needs one.

In the spare room Isidor had retreated to, the patron had found a moment of peace. She'd found herself pulling out her PINpoint, running her thumb along the cool metal, and considering the countless possibilities she held in her hand. The possibility of sending a thousand different messages; The chance to go to Azeroth and personally attempt to end this war; The opportunity to pull strings in a long winded method of keeping Harrowheart out of trouble. Or she could just go and meet him.

Lifting her head, she began to pace in long strides around what now felt like a tiny bedroom. The phone smacked loudly against her palm as she bit her tongue and considered her options. With her thoughts so far from that space it takes her a minute or two to realise she's being watched. All motion stops immediately and then she turns to face him.

"You're really going?"

[lionofthelight]

"I wouldn't if I didn't have to."

Zandros lingers in the doorway long after he speaks. His hands move restlessly, touching the door frame, rubbing together, trying and failing again and again to settle.

"I hope that you of all people would understand the burden of a duty that cannot be denied. If I deny the call, I am ruined. If I answer, I may yet survive. There is no choice to be made."

He begins to enter the room, but with one foot past the door he pauses. Steps back.

"I have quite a lot on my mind. And... Quite a lot I wish I had the time to make right. Knowing you, for one. On your own terms. Outside of every circumstance, including my own stubbornness, that kept us at odds and distant for so long. I wish I could have been the man that you welcomed gladly on his return."

He presses his lips together and, holding his breath for a moment, turns over his words in his mind. Finally he sighs, and then he does enter. He joins her where she is and watches her with guilty eyes.

"He will most certainly be called as well."

[heirtothedragonsfire]

Of course she understands duty. So many people cite it, and she trusts none of them. Not really. Duty is in her veins. It isn't a choice for her like it is for so many others. But for just a second she thinks Zandros might understand. A second, and then it's gone, leaving a strange echo of comfort in familiarity.

She lets him fret and dither at the edge of the threshold. A light frown on her brow, a straight back holding her composure in place. And then he steps past it to confirm her fears. He brings up her one weakness and she flinches at it. At how easy it is to send a flurry of nervousness through her and make her turn to look at a wardrobe hiding a shrine inside.

They'll expect more of him, she wants to think aloud, but keeps quiet. They won't fear the dead dying, so they'll throw him into the middle of it. They won't think that anyone cares for him, or that he's important in any way more than how many others he can kill. Her fingers tighten around her PINpoint and her jaw clenches.

But he's not here now. Zandros is. And as much as he's caused problems for her, he's not an evil man. He deserves... something.

"I don't want you to die." It might have been sweet if it wasn't the taut, near-command she delivers. She looks at him then. "I don't think anyone deserves to endure what you're being sent into. If I could stop this war, then I would. But I can't. I can't stop it. I can't help him. And I can't help you. There's nothing I can do."

[lionofthelight]

How strange it is to be surprised by such a sentiment. Or maybe it was the delivery that staggered him?

He collects himself while he listens. Her words smooth away his tension, but it isn't comfort that replaces them. No, it's an emptiness he isn't accustomed to, and a moment's worry for someone other than himself. Gently, he places his hand on her arm.

"You burden yourself with far too much responsibility. None of us can stop this. We can only hope to survive, and to one day free ourselves from all ties to that wretched planet. At times it seem a great unfairness to have been born there, but now I feel it may be more unjust to have been born free of it and nonetheless come to care for its people."

He moves his hand to hers and rests his palm over her tightly-clenched fist.

"There is nothing you can do. Do not say that in defeat, but accept it as the truth that absolves you of whatever may come. There is nothing you can do, so do not labor over what might have been if you could only stop it all.

"He and I, we are the only ones who can save ourselves. Save each other, perhaps. Should I find him on the battlefield, I will do what I can to bring him back. Even after everything, I hope that, even after everything, he might do the same for me."

[heirtothedragonsfire]

It's not enough. It's not enough. It can't come down to this: To her being unable to pull strings, to push her influence. To threaten the right person if she has to. Challenge them to a duel if it would work better. This can't be it.

Her head rolls with her eyes and she steps away to face him fully, lifting a hand and letting it drop. "And what am I supposed to do? Just sit around here waiting to see what happens?"

If she could volunteer to help, to keep an eye on Harrowheart... But she can't. She has to protect Viatorus. Viatorus who will be sitting in a soft chair in a secure study. Dreaming.

[lionofthelight]

"Yes!"

The words come with a sudden forcefulness that catches him off guard, but he can't show that kind of weakness around her.

"Yes," he repeats more evenly. "You are supposed to remain here, waiting around to see what happens. That is the dubious privilege of those not called to war -- physical safety and emotional uncertainty. Isidor! Accept that there is nothing to be done!"

He pinches the bridge of his nose and screws his eyes shut.

"I don't want what may be our final interaction to end in conflict. Have you any comforting words at all? Or ought I take my leave now?"

[heirtothedragonsfire]

That is not the reply she was hoping for. Even when Harrowheart says the unexpected, it's easier with him. With Zandros she finds it grating, a struggle. He commands her to accept the unacceptable and she wants to push back all the more.

She folds her arms, the sour expression only intensified by the biting of her tongue. Despite everything, she feels a need to try... to at least not make him an enemy.

"What do you want me to say? I don't want you to have to go to war, but I can't do anything. I can't help. What else is there to say?"

[lionofthelight]

"You don't have to do anything. You don't have to help. Not every problem was designed for you to solve. For once in your life, this isn't about you or what you can do."

He turns away and drags his hand down his face.

"I must depart. I've very little time left to say goodbye to my family. If the Light deems it fit, I shall see you again in a month's time. Goodbye, Isidor."