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Nobody really follows Maiev Shadowsong’s Instablog page, but it is notorious on the internet. Countless memes are made about her, documenting her obsession, her behaviour, and above all her fixation on her most dangerous prisoner, Illidan Stormrage.
Known as The Betrayer, Illidan has been imprisoned for over ten thousand years. And Maiev Shadowsong posts daily.
“Today, the Betrayer watched me with his ever-burning demonic eyes from the corner of his cell. Clearly, he is plotting something.”
“The Betrayer’s behaviour today has been disgusting. He dared to speak, to ask one of my Wardens for help, even!”
Illidan Stormrage’s imprisonment is simply a fact of life for the night elves. And the invention of the internet shone a dark, depressing light on it, forcing them to confront the fact that Illidan was not a demon, nor was he truly deserving of this treatment.
It was one truly brave woman, an anonymous source from within the Wardens themselves, who really started the outcry, though. Vivid descriptions of torture and testing filled her Instablog. Quotes from Maiev that could not be proven, but were not out of character.
A petition began to circle, and eventually it was brought before their leaders.
Place a limit on Illidan Stormrage’s Imprisonment, or choose an alternate punishment. The kaldorei do not sanction this torture.
Over thirty thousand signatures, more than half of the population had signed it by the time it appeared before Tyrande Whisperwind, who was not pleased. Illidan meant nothing to her anymore except a painful reminder of old times. Malfurion, her husband, was blissfully ignorant of the situation until she brought it to him to discuss. He was horrified.
Truly, Malfurion did not think much about Illidan, but when he took his tablet and looked at Maiev’s blog, he could see the trends through the years. He could see how Illidan’s state was worsening, how he talked and moved less, how his clothing was ragged and his skin and hair were filthy. How slim he was, compared to the tall, large twin he’d once known.
It was an uncomfortable awakening, to be sure, but Malfurion knew what he had to do.
It would be another three months before Illidan saw daylight again, but the internet waited with bated breath. They watched Maiev’s blog go silent.
They watched Tyrande sign a notice to officially end Illidan’s imprisonment.
They watched, and waited.
The first sign of life was not spotted for a while, as it was buried behind hundreds of years of posts.
Illidan. Commenting under each and every one of the Instablog posts. One by one. Sometimes he responded to ten a day, sometimes only one, but there he was, answering each one to deafening silence. Maiev was pretty hard to locate these days.
“This photo was taken shortly after she kicked me in the head so hard I lost my hearing for a week.”
“This post was made just before she waterboarded me.”
“This was the last time I spoke in that cell.”
“I had not moved in two months when this photo was taken.”
It’s a damning testimony, and the ones who were documenting had a field day trying to categorise it.
Some people wanted to just let it go, let Illidan vent in peace. He hadn’t even been seen in public yet, but Malfurion had confirmed that the responses were from his twin.
Others were determined to document it all, to ensure this never happened again.
The story goes; there was an elf so old he had forgotten the smell of fresh air, and now he is free.
The story goes; the wardens were being dismantled, piece by corrupted piece.
The story goes; Jarod Shadowsong’s phone rang.
“Who is it?” He asked, suspicious. He lived outside society and only two people had this number. Bard, his saber, looked up from his place on the rug.
“...Jarod?” It’s a voice Jarod had not heard in a very long time, and he could barely stop from tearing up.
“Illidan! What?! How are you talking to me?”
Illidan laughed wetly. “I was told you were in self-imposed exile, my friend. I suppose there are many things I must explain.”
Jarod snorted. “Understatement. For now - are you okay? Do you need me to come and get you?” He surprised himself with the offer, but he surprised himself even more with the conviction that it was authentic. He knew, then and there, that he would ride to the end of the world to bring Illidan home safe if he needed it.
“I’m alright, don’t worry. Malfurion is protecting me,” Illidan said softly. “But-... I would like if you came and got me.”
Jarod didn’t need to hear it twice. “On my way. Just tell me where you are and I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“Um, Moonglade.” There was a sniffling sound. “You have no idea how much I missed you, Jarod.”
The white-haired elf stood up and grabbed Bard’s halter, clicking his tongue at the saber. “I think I have some idea, Illidan.”
He was feeling warm, deep in his chest. Warm he hadn’t felt since they were boys together, sparring, laughing freely and carelessly in the courtyards of men far more powerful than they. Warm, in a way he could not describe without using the word love .
Illidan’s breathing was quiet on the phone, but neither of them wanted to hang up.
Neither of them wanted to go.
“See you soon, alright?”
“Alright.” Illidan said quietly. Neither of them hung up.
Jarod pulled out his house keys and ushered Bard from his home, locking up the door. “Just hang tight, I’ll be there in a few hours.”
“Alright.”
“...”
“...”
“...goodbye Illidan.” Jarod said gently, and hit the red button before he could second guess himself.
Climbing atop Bard and setting off at a steady pace, all Jarod could think about was the warmth in his chest.