Unbonded, part three

[moonshadows]

 “Demon!”

Illidan looked up with a frown. “Don’t wake her, brother. She needs to rest.”

Malfurion blinked. “That’s Tessa?”

“I asked her to drop her disguise,” the younger elf said, looking oddly possessive as he glanced at the girl curled up on the edge of the bedroll. “I didn’t want to feel like the only one who wasn’t wholly elf.”

“Illidan…” The druid slowly sat by his brother’s side. “Are you sure you can trust her? We have only her word that you would have done this without her interference.”

The demon hunter gazed thoughtfully at his sleeping friend. “Did you know that I can hear lies?” Calmly, he glanced at his brother. “A side effect of what the demons did to me in Zin-Azshari. When a person says one thing but thinks another, I can hear the echo of the unspoken truth. She’s never lied to me.” A warped smile crosses his face. “She’s from the future. Apparently, my actions were significant enough that demon children are taught about them alongside other great victories and defeats. We do have more than just her word, as well. The Bronze dragon who ferried us through time specifically said that my destroying the Skull, killing Tichondrius, and transforming were ‘essential to the stability of the timeline’.”

“Are you okay with all of this, brother?” Malfurion asked quietly.

Illidan smothered bitter laughter. “In truth? No. But I would rather be free, a demon, and have companionship than be imprisoned, tortured, and forgotten.”

The druid winced. “I can’t blame you. I’m…grateful to her for rescuing you from my folly.” He sighed. “Do you hate me, brother?”

“No. Perhaps if I’d had to stay there longer…but no. Angry at times, frustrated and hurt other times, but…” He turned glowing eyes to his much-older twin. “You’re my brother.”

“Illidan…” Malfurion swallowed the emotions choking him. “I have missed you, my brother.”

Slowly, awkwardly, Illidan levered himself to a sitting position, and the long-separated twins embraced.

==================================

Tyrande stared, dumbfounded. Illidan lay on his stomach, alternately clawing at the dirt floor of his tent and gnawing a thick, peeled stick while on his back, two small lumpy shapes that twitched were being tended to by the half-demon who hadn’t left his side in three days.

“Am I interrupting?”

“Tyrande.” The demon hunter flushed with shame at being seen in such a humiliating state.

“Can’t you block his pain?” The priestess asked Tessa sharply, but it was Illidan who answered.

“She did.”

“Then why…?”

Claws raked at grass and packed dirt. “Because it tickles. And it itches.”

“The skin is growing very quickly,” Tessa said. “That’s why it itches. Muscles and bones and nerves are connecting and growing, and he has no control over them yet.”

“Is there anything I can do? Can I help in any way?”

“Actually, if you could get some cooking grease, or lard, or even animal fat…” Tessa frowned at the twitching lumps. “I’m concerned that the skin will be damaged if it grows too fast and isn’t kept supple. Lamp oil would do, too. And he will need to consume several pounds of meat fairly soon, and again in a few hours.”

“I’ll have some brought immediately.”

“I’m not hungry,” Illidan protested.

“Your body is still flooded with magic, but you’ll burn through that growing your wings. If you don’t have animal protein in your system to create them from, it will come out of your muscles. There’s another issue.” The half-demon bit her lip briefly and glanced at Tyrande. “I don’t want to discourage exercising the wings as they grow, because the bloodflow and motion will be good for them, but…” She lifted her wings briefly. “There’s not going to be nearly enough room in here. Will it be safe for him to leave the tent?”

 “I will make it so,” the priestess said in a tone that invited argument for the sake of enacting horrible violence on anyone foolish enough to actually accept the invitation.

==================================

Illidan stared at the haunch of roasted deer. It had to weigh ten or twelve pounds. “You want me to eat this? All of it?”

“As much as you can without making yourself sick,” Tessa said firmly. “Illidan…I have to tell you this. Touching another dreadlord’s wings is a very intimate act, reserved for a parent and their child, or a pair of bonded mates.”

Mouth full of meat, he made a noncommittal sound, then swallowed. “Since I have neither parents nor a bonded mate, I will entrust the task to you. You actually have experience with having talons; I do not, and I do not wish to risk hurting myself.” Savagely, he ripped into the chunk of venison again.

“Okay,” she said calmly. “I just wanted to make it clear that I’m not trying to take liberties with you.”

The wings were identifiable as such now, although still so small as to look ridiculous. Gently, Tessa dipped her fingers into the pan the venison had arrived in and started massaging grease into the flailing, twitching appendages. She could almost see them grow before her eyes. Her focus narrowed to fragile membrane and warm grease, and it came as a surprise when the bone, completely stripped of flesh, clattered into the pan and Illidan groaned.

“I don’t feel like I’m going to be sick,” he said heavily, “but I feel like I might burst open. Can I lie down?”

“On your side, yes.” Tessa scooted around to help ease him down, watching his tiny wings to make sure they weren’t going to hit anything.

Once he was safely settled, Illidan draped one hand over his distended belly and closed his eyes. “I think maybe I should try to sleep while I can.”

Tessa nodded. “Once your wings get bigger, you should stay awake to move them and help them grow properly.”

“You’ll wake me when they reach that point?”

“Of course,” she said gently, one hand on his forehead. “Sleep.”

A nudge in his mind ensured that he did.

==================================

“That feels good,” Illidan said sleepily. Instantly, the indescribable but pleasant sensations stopped, and he returned to full consciousness with a snap. “Tessa?”

“Sorry,” she said from behind him, and the sensations started again. “You startled me.”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m rubbing grease into the membrane of your wings so that they don’t tear as they grow.”

So that’s where those sensations were located. He focused on the part of his body he’d never had before, and she squeaked as he inadvertently hit her with one. The other felt…constrained.

“Don’t,” she said gently, and her fingers urged the constrained one back against his body. “If you want to stretch them, roll onto your stomach.”

He started to do just that, but his stomach reminded him firmly that it still had several pounds of meat inside it, and he found himself scrabbling to his hands and knees instead. His wings spread and flapped instinctively for balance, and Tessa squeaked again. For a few minutes he stayed like that, enjoying the new sensations of moving his wings, but then his neck started to hurt with the strain of holding his head up, and he remembered his horns.

“Help me stand up,” he said, not wanting to lie back down.

Hooves entered his field of vision, and then Tessa kneeled in front of him. “Move your knees forward,” she instructed, “and move your weight back. Good.” Her hands went to his shoulders, and she gently guided him to a kneeling position before taking his hands in hers. “Remember that you don’t have feet. Up…”

At her direction, he slowly brought one leg forward and fumbled his hoof into a secure position, then carefully started transferring his weight to it and pushing himself upright. His small wings flailed wildly, not helping anything in the slightest, but she held him steady and got him to his feet. Hooves. Whatever. He tried to let go, but she kept his hands firmly in her grasp.

“Take a minute to get used to your balance,” she said solemnly.

Illidan opened his mouth to tell her that he wasn’t a baby, he knew how to stand, but the weight of his horns threw him off, and then his wings unbalanced him further, and his feet felt so weird and numb – right, because they were hooves – and only her firm grip kept him from falling. Once he had his balance again, he nodded but did not release her hands. She glanced over her shoulder to make sure the path was clear, and led him outside the tent in baby steps. Understandably shy of meeting any of his people, he saw with relief that it was high noon and the only kaldorei he saw was a Sentinel who took one look at them and walked briskly off towards what looked to be the command tent. By the time Tessa got him close enough to a tree to grab its trunk for support, he felt fairly confident on his hooves. Not enough to run or fight, but enough to not fall over.

Once Illidan had the tree securely in his claws, Tessa ran back to the tent for the pan of deer grease so she could continue making sure his wings stayed supple as they grew. He said nothing as her gentle fingers continued their ministrations, relaxing into the pleasant sensations. Equally gentle, her mental fingers prodded at the broken structures in his mind and tried to sort them out. It was a juggling act, keeping his pain at bay both physically and mentally while hiding her mental presence and still working in both places, all while he was awake. The hours flew by.

Towards dusk, Illidan realized that his wings were down to his knees now, his stomach was empty and growing unhappy about this fact, and the pleasant sensations of Tessa’s hands on his wings were becoming…oddly familiar. As they rubbed the sensitive skin where his wings emerged from his back, a tingle continued down his spine and his pants grew tight. That must be why this was such a socially restricted act. Should he say something? She did warn him, so she had to know what effect this would have on him. No, best to just keep his silence and enjoy it without making things awkward. He thought nothing of the quiet footsteps behind him or the murmured voices until a second pair of hands joined Tessa’s and stared massaging him towards bliss.

“Oh, Illidan,” Tyrande breathed almost in his ear. “Your wings are so soft.”

That was the final straw; his brain short-circuited and he shot his – non-existent? – load. Illidan moaned as the wave of pleasure broke over him, knees buckling, claws carving parallel lines in the tree’s bark as he sank sightlessly to the ground.

“Did he-“

“Did we just-“

“Yes,” he groaned, too deep in the afterglow to care how embarrassing this was.

Over his head, the two women exchanged a guiltily smug look. “When you said sensitive and intimate, I didn’t think you meant…”

Tessa grinned. “I didn’t think so, either. After all, I was stroking him for hours. I guess experience does come with age.”

Tyrande looked bemusedly at her hands as Malfurion ran up, concern written on his face at seeing his brother slumped awkwardly on the ground.

“Illidan! What’s wrong? What happened?”

“Two girls at once, brother,” Illidan said lazily, satisfaction dripping from every syllable. “Beat that.”

Startled, the druid looked at the two women.

“I had no idea his wings were so sensitive,” Tyrande said unapologetically.

“Mmm, neither did I,” the half-demon said, reaching blindly behind him, unsurprised when a taloned hand took his. Between Tessa and the tree, he hauled himself back up without incident. As he turned to face the others, smug satisfaction radiating from him, Tessa’s breath caught. “Is something wrong?”

“You’re gorgeous,” she breathed, the very picture of adoration. The other three exchanged startled glances.

“I…I am?” Thrown off balance, he looked to Tyrande. “Am I?”

“You were always handsome,” she said slowly. “I confess, I have a hard time seeing the changes you’ve undergone as anything but scars of the things you’ve endured, and they are somewhat alarming, but they don’t make you a monster.” She glanced at Malfurion, who nodded slightly. “As for improving your looks…the only horns I am accustomed to seeing are your brother’s, and wings are new to me. I have no experience with which to judge them.” Her lips quirked. “They are soft, though.”

Illidan blushed.

Golden eyes twinkled. “Oh, is that so?” He reached for his twin and laughed good-naturedly as the younger male edged away. “Well, if Tyrande felt your wings, maybe I should feel Tessa’s, hmm?” Malfurion stretched one hand towards the demon-girl still lost in her adoration.

“You will do no such thing, brother.” In a burst of motion, Illidan pulled Tessa into his arms and glowered. “That act is reserved for a parent and child, or for bonded mates.”

“I guess you won’t be touching them either then, brother,” the druid teased.

“He can if he wants to,” Tessa protested, blushing furiously, but an intimidating growl drowned her out.

“Illidan?” Tyrande asked tentatively. “Was that your stomach?”

Sheepishly, he released his hold on the half-demon girl. “Yes.” He grinned at his brother, looking like a teenager again despite the horns and fangs. “Hey Furion – I bet I can eat more than you.”

Feeling the enthusiasm of a youth he’d lost long ago, Malfurion grinned back. “You’re on.”

==================================

Malfurion groaned and leaned back, hands curled protectively over his too-full stomach. “Why did I let you talk me into that, and how are you still eating?”

“You two never could do anything without making it a competition,” Tyrande said gently, trying not to take too much amusement from the situation her mate had gotten himself into.

“That doesn’t explain that,” the druid said sourly, pointing to his brother’s bulging belly, where enough food to feed several men had met its fate.

Illidan scraped the last bites of porridge out of his bowl, sighed contentedly, and attempted to lean back without crushing his wings or bending them awkwardly. “Demon powers,” he said smugly, and belched.

“You’re going to make yourself sick.”

“If the entire haunch of venison yesterday didn’t make him sick, then I doubt this will,” Tessa said from where she was adjusting his wings.

Malfurion shook his head while Illidan smirked. “And why aren’t you eating anything?” he asked. “I haven’t seen you eat at all in the last few days.”

“Dreadlords consume magic. We can eat food, but we don’t have to. Illidan only needs to eat because he needs something to fuel the wings he’s growing.”

“They’re still growing? How much bigger are they going to get?”

Tessa gently tugged one wing, guiding it out to its full extension, then extended her own for comparison. It was half again as large as his. “The transformation should be complete by dawn.”

Illidan shifted uncomfortably. “Maybe then I’ll be able to get a good day’s sleep.” He shifted again and one wing spasmed. “Tessa…”

A moment’s silent, incomprehensible work, and he relaxed again as the burning pain faded. Before she could move away, however, he grabbed her wrist and tugged her down beside him, one arm going around her shoulders. Startled and unsure, she looked to Malfurion and Tyrande for help but found only tolerant smiles.

“Tyrande,” Illidan said, “is my brother making you happy?”

The soft smile she lavished on the druid was unmistakable and eloquent. “Yes,” she said simply.

“Good. You were right; we make everything a competition even when it shouldn’t be, and even when neither of us has a say in who the victor will be. I lost. It’s time I faced that fact and came to terms with it.”

“Illidan, are you feeling alright?” Malfurion asked, concerned but suspicious.

“My whole life has been turned upside down, brother. I have been rescued by a demon, bypassed ten thousand years, and turned into a demon myself, and that was the more favorable course of action. I think, given the circumstances, that I am handling things quite well.” He glanced at the blushing girl sitting beside him. “It helps that I have friends.”