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“It’s beautiful.”
There wasn’t really any other way to describe it. Any word that sounded appropriate – magnificent, breathtaking, stunning, overwhelming – couldn’t capture the entirety of what it was. So many feelings all at once, so many hopes and the fears they came with, condensed into a single, towering tree.
Amirdrassil was beautiful.
Alladar watched his friend’s face, stern yet coloured with some sort of awe, the type that comes when you admire something you don’t understand. The man tore his gaze away from the tree, but not without difficulty. The sight was almost hypnotising, for reasons that were obvious to Alladar as a kaldorei, but possibly not so much to a human. The sanctity of the tree and the weight of its presence must have affected his companion, too, though in what ways, he could not be sure.
“So that’s where you’ll be living now?”
The elf nodded, giving Rence a gentle smile. “It will take time to rebuild, but… yes.”
There was silence, both turning back to look at the mesmerising sight reflecting in the human’s eyes, a gentle and brilliant gleam.
“Nervous, huh?” Rence asked, a smile creeping in below his bushy moustache. “I know I was, seeing Stromgarde again. It’s some of the most hopeful I’ve ever felt, knowing I have my home again, but I couldn’t help-”
“- feeling scared of losing it again.” Alladar exhaled through his nose.
“Aye.” The paladin’s smile faded. “It’s not something that ever really goes away, is it?”
“We should know.” With how much they both have lost over the years, that fear became a constant companion. A shadow to counter that radiant hope, a weight that balanced the scales. There always needed to be a balance, in everything, and even though Alladar lived to serve and preserve that balance, he didn’t always like what that meant. Right now, in this very moment, he wished he’d never have to be afraid again.
But he would be. The fear of loss would always lurk over his shoulder, along with all the other nightmares and regrets he’s collected over the course of his long life. Like a presence at the edge of his vision that was never there when he turned to look. “But it’s just one of those things you need to learn to live with.”
“Else we’d go insane.” Rence ran a hand through his hair, mixing the fiery red with the streaks of grey. It seemed to fall in slow motion, draping around the right side of the man’s face, contrasting with where the other side was held back by a rose pin. He wore it almost all the time, helmet or no helmet, an important item that punctuated the redness with gleaming gold.
He laughed. “I made it sound like we’re not already insane.” With a smile that lacked any mirth, he sat on the grassy soil, gripping one of this wrists tightly. The metal of his gauntlet clinked under the pressure. The hand seemed to be moving on its own, re-enacting actions it’s gotten used to. Bodies learn, and they remember. “If only.”
Alladar sat beside him, carefully positioning his barely functional right arm in his lap. He tried his best not to stare at the man’s hands, however difficult that proved to be. He kept sneaking glances. Just to make sure it wasn’t going any further. Everyone had their demons – some more literal than others – and ways of coping with them; sadly, both Rence and he happened to land on the wrong ways to cope. It was hard to resist these urges when they came. “If only.”
Silence fell between them, save for the clinking metal. Alladar didn’t know how to react, only that he didn’t want his friend hurting himself. Was it safe to interfere? It sounded risky, but so did not interfering. So, against his better judgement, Alladar gently took hold of the paladin’s forearm, pulling it away. There was no resistance, only blue eyes looking back at him. “But there’s no need for that,” the druid smiled, his tone as soft as he could manage.
“I know,” Rence shook his head slightly. The need never truly goes away. With the Dream bleeding into the waking world, and the tree blooming into Azeroth, it was getting harder and harder to ignore Alladar’s hunger. To slip away into the Dream and feel no more pain, or fear, or anything else but peace. He was certain Rence felt a similar urge when dwarfed by pressure of whatever was weighing on him at a given time. The urge to release that mental torture with physical pain.
The elf no longer wanted to escape into whatever delusions he could conjure up with alchemy, but in the back of his head he always remembered, and always would remember how easy it is to avoid the stress and responsibilities and everything else he didn’t want to feel. His body craved the substitutes he used to take to simulate the peace and tranquillity of the Dream. At times, it was very difficult not to seek that relief again.
“It does feel easier if there’s someone who understands,” Rence said, freeing his wrist from the druid’s grip. Instead, he carefully took hold of Alladar’s hand. “Someone who knows how to pull you up if you stumble.”
In Amidrassil’s gentle light, Rence looked otherwordly, his features softened, the red and grey of his hair tinted with a delicate green. Like he’s been plucked out of a dream. The Dream. As someone who lived and breathed literal Light, perhaps he had space for the glow of nature, too, to be attuned to it in the same way he was to the holy. Or perhaps it was just Alladar’s old heart trying to rationalise what he was seeing on that scarred face that he’s never noticed before. Perhaps it was his loneliness talking, the need to love and be loved as the weight of his years continued to creep up on him. Whatever the reason, he couldn’t help but admire the paladin’s features.
Rence was beautiful.
“A lot’s happened in a short time,” he said, and then let out a snort of laughter. “Well, short for you. But I’ve noticed that despite everything always changing, there’s been one constant.” He smiled, and it was warm, and genuine, radiating his inner light. “You.”
“How long has it been?” Alladar said, his mind catching up to the implications of what he’d just heard.
“Since we met? Light, that was at Hyjal…”
Decades, then. How time flies when you have so much of it already behind you. Though that was nothing to a kaldorei, he’d changed so much since that battle, having met so many different people. Friendships and loves have come and gone, but Rence had always remained, changing in his own ways, dealing with his own demons. Growing from a young, naive man to a seasoned knight, a noble soul full of warmth and confidence.
“So…” Rence cleared his throat. He’d been staring, too. “Do you… ever have that feeling that you’ve been longing and looking for something that’s been right under your nose the whole time?”
A smile crept onto Alladar’s face. He hadn’t had that feeling before, no, not in all his thousands of years. Until now. It was a funny feeling. Being slapped the face by realisation that you never needed to look, because what you wanted has been staring right at you within arm’s reach. He’d only needed to reach that arm out, and now he knew that. “Yes.”
“I do hope we’re talking about the same thing,” the man laughed again, unable to fully conceal the tremble in his voice. “Otherwise this will get really awkward.”
“We are. I think. But it already feels kind of awkward.”
“Leave it to us to ruin the moment.”
“Did we?”
“If not, I think I’m about to.” Rence briefly glanced to the monumental tree before turning back to the elf. “This is going to get complicated, with you finding a new home here, and me being back in Stromgarde…”
“It’s not something that has to be a problem.” Freeing his hand from the man’s grip, Alladar cupped his chin instead, gently holding him in place. “We’ll figure it out. One step at a time.”
The kiss tasted of lipstick and desperation, clumsy, as if they were adolescents trying it out for the first time. There was a tenderness to it, a caring kind of love that desperately tried to make itself clear, but didn’t know how. Sweet and meaningful.
Rence pulled away with a smile, shy and embarrassed and gorgeous. “One day at a time.”