Can't stay here

[moonshadows]

Tyrande sweeps into our tower suite like a blizzard crowded into kaldorei form.

“Illidan, may I speak with your Champion for a moment?” she asks.

I am already in motion when my Kal’shan nods and says, “Of course.” I know he will not deny Tyrande anything. She leads me down three flights and onto a balcony, where she corners me with the spikes of her silver displeasure.

“You are afraid of me,” she says bluntly. “Why?”

“Because you don’t like me.”

Her eyebrows draw in as she frowns. “How does that translate to fear?”

I shrug miserably, arms crossed as though hugging myself. “If you decided to attack me, I wouldn’t stand a chance against you.”

“Why not?” she demands. “I have no illusions that you are as helpless as you seem to believe you are.”

“It’s not that. It’s because he loves you. You could make my life miserable in all kinds of ways if you wanted to, and I wouldn’t be able to do anything about it because he will not hear a negative word about you from anyone, nor will he tolerate anyone harming you.”

She looks taken aback. “But you are his Champion!”

“And you were the only light in his world for ten thousand years,” I say softly. “I can’t compete against that.”

Tyrande is silent for a long minute, thoughts hidden behind the swirling silver-white power sheathing her. “You’re right,” she says at last. “I do not like you. You are half demon and half orc, two of my least favorite races, and you have the power to reach into minds and shape what you find. I do not like you, and I do not trust you – but Illidan does.” She smiles grimly. “I do not dislike you enough to hurt him by hurting you. I care for Illidan, and I trust him. He cares for you and trusts you, and so I withhold my judgment until I can make it fairly by seeing your actions for myself.”

I can live with that.

Silver eyes pierce me. “Do you care for him enough to work with me despite your fear?”

My soul draws down into a shell. “Of course.”

“Good. Then I expect you to come to me immediately if there is a problem that you cannot resolve on your own concerning Illidan’s health.”

The power of Elune vanishes, laying her mind bare – and a handful of regret-drenched memories is fired at me, each one featuring my star. Illidan rescuing her from the Scourge, and the river – I will always look out for you, Tyrande. – confusion and shame at having doubted him. The guarded hope, painful against the despair etched into his face as he peers through metal bars – After all these ages spent in darkness… – and guilt that he looks at her as though she were a miracle, his savior, even though she had forgotten about him for so long. The terrified determination on his face as the satyrs hauled him off, cuffing him for having used his magic to send her to safety out of their reach, literally trading his life for hers. Illidan, blindfolded and bound with thorny vines, thrashing and raving incoherently – then, later, gazing at her through the cloth with desperation as he promised that everything he had done and endured was for her. Lastly, the overwhelming relief at seeing her old friend smile from a demon’s face, sharp anguish that she had not been the savior he’d trusted her to be, and soul-deep gratitude that someone had been, even if it was not her.

“I understand,” I say steadily, and with a nod she sweeps off.

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

“Pardon me, High Priestess, but may I have a word with you?”

Tyrande looks startled that I have sought her out, and she excuses herself. We both appear to be calm as she leads me into one of the smaller meditation chambers, but inside the shell of my soul my mind is a maelstrom of panic and the magic of her goddess seethes around her.

“He can’t stay here,” I blurt out as soon as the door closes behind me.

“What? Why not?”

Being able to explain things calms me somewhat. “He can’t consciously hear thoughts because he hasn’t been trained, but he detects them all the same. Two out of every three people think ‘Betrayer’ when they see him, and it’s hurting him.”

Now she looks alarmed. “Hurting him? How?”

“I fixed the damage, but…” I bite my lip briefly, remembering the fresh cuts I’d dabbed anesthetic into not an hour before. “He’s still not used to being whole again around his people. The only way he knows to deal with that kind of unspoken accusation and resentment...involves being broken.”

“It’s hurting him because he’s hurting himself,” she says grimly. “I will do what I can to repair his reputation – I am at fault there for allowing it to be damaged in the first place and not countering the lies as they were spread – but it will take time, and I am no happier about him being wounded in this way than you are. What else can I do, since I assume you have done everything you can to resolve this with your abilities…?”

I close my eyes, letting all the half-formed fears and desires I’ve picked up from him coalesce, praying to my star for that secret guidance he is not aware that he gives. “He needs to have a place of his own,” I say slowly, groping for the words to express the concept pulsing inside me. “Somewhere that is his alone, where he is beholden to no one and no one has any authority over him.”

Tyrande nods sadly as I open my eyes. “He needs his freedom. I should have known. Well, there are many abandoned Highborne residences to the east, beyond Ashenvale. When the Highborne left and sailed across the ocean, they didn’t bother stripping their homes of magic and without them, we had no way of understanding what spells still lingered. They have been shunned or barricaded for many centuries for the safety of our people. I will ask Illidan to check them, since he knows the mysteries of the arcane.” She smiles briefly. “If he finds one that suits him, well, no one will dispute his claim.”

“And if he doesn’t, he’s still getting away from the city and the unspoken accusations, and performing a useful service.” I nod. “Thank you.”

She smiles again, sadly. “I love him too, you know.”

My cheeks burn. “I know.”