moonshadows

“…learned that from my father.”

“We don’t have a father, Illidan.”

I gestured sharply, angrily. “No. You don’t have a father. I do.”

“He’s not your father, stop pretending.”

“He didn’t sire me,” I agreed. “But he took me in, fed and clothed and taught me and loved me. I had a family, Malfurion. Maybe you’ve forgotten what that’s like, but I had a mother, and a father, and three brothers who all cared about me, and supported me, and wanted me to be happy.” I clenched my fists and took deep breaths that whistled between my teeth.

“They’re Highborne. They can’t be trusted.”

The casual way Malfurion dismissed them set my blood afire “And why’s that? Just because they’re Highborne? You don’t know them. How are you so certain they can’t be trusted?”

“I’m your family, Illidan. We’re all the other has.”

I laughed, the sound sharp and cruel. “You? Oh, you think highly of yourself. You’re not my family.”

“I’m your twin brother. I don’t know what they did to turn you away from me, but-”

“Oh, so that’s it.” My hands closed around the bars, knuckles white. “You think they did something to me and that’s the reason I’m not falling all over myself to beg your forgiveness. Do you want to know what they did? They loved and respected me. I didn’t have to twist myself up into what they thought I should be. If I had an opinion, it was listened to. If I wanted something, I was allowed to pursue it. If I gave a gift, it was cherished.” My eyes narrowed as I watched the oh-so-mighty Archdruid stand there, arms crossed, glaring. “I sent you a gift once, Malfurion. On the anniversary of our birth. Something to let you know that I was alive and well and thinking of you. I watched you open it, brother. I watched you take two bites of the cake and throw the rest out like garbage. I watched you use the clothes for rags. I watched you give Tyrande the bow and arrows, and I watched her suck your cock for it.”

His cheeks reddened, with anger or mortification. I smiled, and it was an expression that would have done Azshara proud.

“She wasn’t very good; I’m not surprised that you had to get yourself off. Or did she just not want you coming in her mouth?”

“Illidan,” he growled, “I’m warning you…”

“You’re warning me? What are you going to do, brother, if I don’t stop?” Now I released the bars and gestured in expansive sarcasm. “You’ve locked me up underground for three centuries now and refused me any kind of distraction. If you were going to kill me, you would have done that, so what exactly do you think you can threaten me with? Brute force? Are you going to hold me down and punch me for telling you that Tyrande gags so much on your dick that it makes me limp?”

His fists were clenched, too, now. “Illidan…”

“That’s my name.”

“If our parents could see you…”

“They’d probably be appalled that you locked me up. Or that you threw away my presents. Or that you were so insecure about me not clinging to your sleeve my entire life that you told me to not come back if I had the temerity to follow my own dream instead of making myself miserable following yours. Cenarius told me to go to Zin-Azshari, Malfurion. Are you going to stand there and try to claim more wisdom than your own shan’do?”

No. He wasn’t, but I hadn’t left him an opening to counter with, either.

“You think you’ve won, Furion,” I said with deceptive mildness. “You think you’ve proven that you’re better than me. You think you’ve stolen my grand destiny away and that history will remember only you guiding the pen, that I will be forgotten down here for eternity. You’re wrong. Every time you see your reflection, see the hue of your eyes, you will see my ghost. Every time Tyrande chokes on your cock, you will wonder if I’m watching. And every time you speak with Cenarius, you will remember that had you listened to him, you might still have me at your side. You’re going to leave, and you won’t come back. You’ll stay away from here and try to forget me, and it won’t work, but you won’t come back because you can’t stand to prove me right, to look at me and know that even in this cell, this cage you’ve built for me, I’m the one destiny favors. And I’ll tell you something else.”

Despite himself, he asked, “What’s that?”

I smiled, an expression colder than his anger could ever dream of being. “I’m not going to stay here. I’ll find a way out, no matter how hard you try to keep me here, and when I do? You won’t know. You need me, Malfurion. Your very identity is tied so tightly around mine that it’s a wonder Tyrande doesn’t call my name when you manage to get her off with your graceless rutting. But I don’t need you, brother. I have a life that you are not a part of, and when I slip past your precious Warden, I will return to it and continue being the golden child of destiny, adored and praised, loved and respected, and you’ll never know. That’s what hurts you most of all, isn’t it? That I can be so secure in who I am that you’re not even worth the effort it would take to parade before you and make you look dull and musty in comparison.”

“There’s more to being great than flashy petals, Illidan.”

“Of course; the flower must also have sweet nectar.” I ran one hand suggestively over my groin. “I know mine’s sweet; I’ve had girls line up begging to take their turn tasting my honey. I can’t help but notice, however, that even when Tyrande does manage to satisfy you, she only swallows a third of the time. Are you eating right? More fruit in your diet should improve your flavor.”

“I will not discuss this with you!” Malfurion thundered.

“Because you’re ashamed?” I purred. “Because Tyrande’s ashamed? Because she thinks she’s so wonderful in bed and you don’t know how to tell her that sliding your cock into the mouth of a dead fish would feel and smell better?”

His face was so dark I half expected to see blood spurt from his temples.

“If you’re curious,” I continued cheerfully, “she doesn’t replace you with a conveniently-shaped vegetable when you’re away. She just gets waspish and snaps at everyone. I guess she never learned that all a woman really needs is two fingers – might be better for your people if someone were to teach her. It might be worse for you, but you could always find a ripe melon…”

“Illidan!”

“…and melons don’t gag.”

Malfurion Stormrage, Archdruid and co-leader of the orphaned night elf civilization, stormed out with my derisive laughter ringing in his ears. He wouldn’t be back. Only one barrier remained to stand between me, and my freedom.

This was going to be fun.