Monster

[moonshadows]

 

I come awake to the scent of damp earth in my nostrils. Hardly surprising, considering my cell is little more than a room carved out of the earth and roughly walled with planks of wood. My cursed eyes make it nearly impossible for me to see which panel is the door and which is a wall, and this deep underground, there’s nothing else to use to orient myself. I never know which direction someone is going to enter from, and I can feel my sanity slipping back towards the broken time. I’m not even sure how long I’ve been here.

A soft, green-gold glow writhes through the thick brown darkness, and roots wrap around my wrists and ankles, holding me to the floor of my cell. I guess Furion learned his lesson after the last time he visited. Serves him right for saying Azureon hadn’t come back because he was ashamed of me. I wonder if his eye blackened much before Tyrande patched him up, since I’m sure he ran crying to her as soon as he left here.

Ah, that’s Furion’s green-gold shape now. I grin as best I can with roots holding me down. “Back for more, brother?”

“There’s been a trial,” he says pompously.

“Why should I care?”

“Because it was yours,” he snaps.

And I wasn’t invited. My fate was decided without even doing me the courtesy of letting me hear it. That hurts, but I transmute it to anger. Ungrateful wretches don’t deserve what I did for them. “So what did this trial-“ I make the word a mockery of our entire civilization, or what’s left of it “decide?”

“You’re to be imprisoned,” he spits. “Until either the demons come back, or you stop being a danger to everyone around you.”

Okay, that really hurts. How can he think – “What did I do?” The words are edged with panic, but I don’t care. Furion, please tell me! Did I have another fit? Why-

“You’re a monster, Illidan!”

The words cut like one of the jagged knives the demons favored. I can’t hear his tone over my own pain, but the words ring true. He truly believes that I am a monster. My own brother…

“You’re a monster, Illidan, and you’re going to get what you deserve.”

This time, I can hear the coldness in his voice. That’s his ‘I want no part of this’ voice.

“You’ll be moved the day after tomorrow to a secure location where you will remain in isolation.”

The world goes black around me. Furion’s left, the roots have withdrawn, and I am alone with my thoughts.

You’re a monster, Illidan.

I am a monster. I’d cry, but my eye sockets are filled with green flame. Monsters don’t cry. I can’t cry. I’m a monster.

The earth swallows my scream of despair.

 

 

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 “He’s been quiet, Master Stormrage,” the guard said as he approached the wooden door to his brother’s cell. “Of course, that doesn’t mean anything.”

Malfurion winced, remembering all too well how his twin had launched himself at him last time and landed several solid hits before he’d been able to summon roots to restrain him. To be fair, he shouldn’t have said that about Azureon, but Illidan had no idea of what Malfurion was dealing with on his behalf! It just made him so angry to see his twin lie there sullenly, like somehow this was all Malfurion’s fault. He just wanted to see some kind of reaction, some sign that his brother was still there behind the not-eyes and the blindfold.

He sighed, knowing that this was going to go badly, and reached for the roots. Only when Illidan was restrained did he slide behind the simple plank that served as a door.

“Back for more, brother?” the blindfolded youth taunted with a smirk of sheer, grating superiority.

Don’t let it get to you, the druid reminded himself. “There’s been a trial,” he said, trying to keep his voice even.

“Why should I care?”

“Because it was yours.” Malfurion shut his mouth on the words that bubbled up, on the memory of the smirking nobles, the outraged lowborn, all trying to tell him that his brother deserved to die.

Illidan’s face twisted from vulnerable pain to anger. “So what did this trial-“ the word held volumes of mockery “-decide?”

“You’re to be imprisoned.” Malfurion forced the words out before they could fester and turn into something barbed. “Until either the demons come back, or you stop being a danger to everyone around you.” He blinked back tears. As much as he wanted to believe that quiet isolation would let his brother’s battered mind knit itself back together, he despaired of it ever actually happening.

“What did I do?” There could be no hiding the anguish in those words.

Did he not know? Was he really unaware of how his actions looked – of the things he’d done in fits of madness? “You’re a monster, Illidan!” The tears escaped; he bit his lip before the sob could follow. It was bad enough seeing his twin turn into something unrecognizable in his fits, but to have to face the false hope his lucid moments offered-! No, control. You have to be strong, Furion. Deep breath. You can do it. “You’re a monster, Illidan,” he said in a stilted voice, “and you’re going to get what you deserve. You’ll be moved the day after tomorrow to a secure location where you will remain in isolation.”

The raw pain on his brother’s face was too much to bear; Malfurion dismissed the roots and fled before his heart could break from the strain of what had happened and what was still to come.

When he heard his twin’s despairing scream, he covered his eyes and cried.

 

 

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“Illidan, might I borrow your Champion for a few minutes?”

The serious tone confuses my star, but he says, “Of course, brother.”

I follow Malfurion deeper into Teldrassil’s wild greenery, until he stops and turns to me.

“I’m very happy that Illidan has finally realized and acted on his love for you,” he says, but his mind screams a disclaimer that if Illidan is focused on me, he won’t try to win Tyrande. “I know you and Tyrande have grown closer as well, but you still haven’t forgiven me. I don’t want dissention between us to cause any harm to him,” and he truly means that, “so what…?”

What does he need to do, what needs to happen for me to forgive him. “You need to stop lying to yourself about how you feel,” I say coldly.

His guilt makes a beeline for a cache of memories – exactly the thing I was looking for. I take that beast must never be set free and fling it at him like a kick to the essentials. He doubles up and sinks to his knees, and I hit him across the face with one of the most toxic of Illidan’s memories – being called a monster by his own brother.

He jerks, golden eyes wide. “I remember that! That was-“ he breaks off and looks pleadingly up at me. “Please. Show me the rest of that event from his eyes.”

I do, and tears course down his face to vanish into his beard. He looks up at me, haunted, and holds out the mirror-image of that memory: his side of the event. I taste it, and he nods grimly when my eyes widen.

“Show it to him,” he begs. “I know he’s forgiven me, but I want him to know the truth.”

“I will,” I say as I tie the two memories to that beast must never be set free, “but you need to remember it, as well.”

He climbs shakily to his feet and nods. His sense of responsibility is stronger than my Kal’shan’s, and it arms itself easily with you’re a monster before attacking some kind of warped, barbed structure.

“You both did the same thing,” I say softly. “It hurt too much to love, so you hated instead.”

“If he can let go of the anger, then I can do no less,” Malfurion says grimly. “I gave my word that I would never harm him again, and by Cenarius’s beard, I will not be forsworn!”

When we return to the other two, Illidan pulls me into a hug. “What was that all about?” he casually asks no one in particular.

“There was something I needed to be reminded of.” Furion gently detangles himself from Tyrande and looks sadly at his twin. “I was wrong,” he says softly. “You are not a monster. You never were. I’m so sorry for the pain my words caused you.”

Illidan’s jaw drops in astonishment at the tears on his brother’s cheeks. “Furion…”

Quietly, I offer him the memory Malfurion offered me, and when he has tasted it, he hugs his twin fiercely.

It’s a start.