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It was barely dawn, and the first fingers of light were just a promise, a whisper on the horizon beyond Dalaran. The streets were near bare, but for the staggering steps of a few Blood Elves as they tried to find their way home and a handful of early risers, their weary eyes half lidded.
But Krasus’s landing wasn’t quiet. It milled with Illidari, with a half dressed Khadgar, his robe fastened askew. Maiev stood quietly at the side, her white hair pulled back in haste, piled atop in a twisted bun as she wrapped her thick cloak around, wishing she had worn more.
She had been pulled from sleep by an Illidari at her door, urgently, and dragged to Krasus’s landing with little explanation. An explanation she still didn’t have as she stood alone, the heavy veil of uncertainty hanging in the air, making her shiver more than the cold.
Illidan was restless, agitated. She could tell from the flare of his wings, from the way they twitched as he spoke to his Slayer, Issari, the words barely audible. Khadgar stepped in, tapping the bottom of Atiesh to the ground in frustration. Illidan turned and pushed him out of the way.
“You don’t lead the Illidari,” said Illidan as he walked past. But Khadgar did not relent.
“And neither do you,” said the mage, louder than he had wanted.
Illidan paused, folding his wings back against his back, slowly. “I’m not letting them do this alone - not again. I’m going with them, whether you like it or not.”
Khadgar made to follow after Illidan as he walked, catching Maiev’s eye, but Issari grabbed the mage by the arm, pulling him back.
“Trust us,” she said, her mass of red curls bouncing as she pulled him away. “Trust him.”
Maiev smirked as she watched the struggle on Khadgar’s face to keep quiet - he always enjoyed his opinion, loudly.
But she soon turned away from the show as Illidan approached, his presence pulling her away like threads, wound around her head, her heart.
“Illidan - what is-”
Her words fell away, husky from sleep, as he took her hand and pulled her away and down the steps to the landing, her cloak billowing behind as she followed, wordless.
Basked in shadow, Illidan turned and pressed her against the cold wall, clasped hands a whisper from her ear as he leaned down and swept her into a kiss; urgent, desperate, that made Maiev stand on her toes, that made her back arch away from the wall, their chests pressing together, bathed in the fel glow of his tattoos.
She reached up, a clawed hand cradling his face, sliding along his ear to pinch the tip, just how he liked; how she remembered.
She was rewarded with a moan; a moan, breathed through their kiss; a kiss that slid to her jaw, her neck, the drag of his horns scratching her forehead, red.
“Where - where are you going?” she asked, her fingers scratching against his scalp as she twisted fingers through hair.
“Kalimdor,” he said against her neck. He would have given her more, but the real answer would have meant she would not let them leave without her, and they needed her here. On the Broken Isles. That’s just what the Legion wanted - a diversion, a distraction, to pull them all away elsewhere.
“Where - why?” she asked, but her words were lost in another kiss, needy, noisy, her body asking for more; more she knew that wouldn’t come, but still, she asked.
“The Legion have given us a distraction on the coast, near Durotar,” he lied. But what could he say? The truth? That Darnassus cried for him; that Tyrande needed him.
Maybe the truth was right - of course it was always right. But as he pulled back, the closeness of their intimacy almost letting him see her again, as an elf; her eyes, lidded with desire; her vibrant markings, given in her youth, when she came of age; the wisps of white hair, falling free - he couldn’t risk not having this - her - to come back to. To hold. To kiss.
To love.
“I’m coming-”
“You are needed here. They’ll fall apart without you,” he said, a small smile curving his lips as he ran his thumb across her bottom lip.
“You don’t get to tell me what to do,” she said, pulling him closer, claws biting at the back of his neck.
“I’m asking,” he said, simply, watching her war with herself and his words. “As much for myself as our cause; our people - and their hope.”
Maiev closed her eyes, leaned forward and kissed. It was the only answer she could give.
“When will I see you again?” she asked, pressing forehead to his.
Illidan curved a finger beneath her chin. “Keep your window open,” he said with a smile, before he pulled back, his hand trailing down her chest, her stomach, and then turned, and left.