Sound: an Illidan/Kael'thas Story

BY : Genevieve
Category: +S through Z > World of Warcraft
Dragon prints: 2176
Disclaimer: I do not own Warcraft nor any of the characters, nor do I make any money or profit from writing this story.


lllidan is a deceptively gentle creature; after being bound by heartache and by his twin brother's imprisonment for ten thousand years, he inadvertently grows to permit only Prince Kael'thas to know his fragile emotions.

A delicate, intimate closeness develops between them when they have only each other to trust at the brink of the Legion's invasion; the story begins after Illidan's defeat against Arthas at Icecrown, when Kael tends to his wounds at the Black Temple.

Rated for explicit, graphic M/M sex.


Strong, gentle hands. Elegant, delicate, proficient in manipulation of the arcane, quiet words in Thalassian; Prince Kael'thas serenely composed while at work dressing Illidan's wounds. The velvet slide of red fabric, low swing of his hair, tenderness that came entirely unintended, but which was so difficult not to give.


I've got no beef with you, personally, that's what Illidan might've said to Arthas when they took each other on, after the march on Icecrown and the battle there. He couldn't admit to it even if he wanted to, however, how he'd become a pawn of Kil'Jaeden whether he fancied it or not.

He might've said, I just want to be left alone, you see, I'm heartbroken. But you couldn't really expect him to say something like that; in the end, he said nothing, because, in the end, he lay motionless in the naked snow, somewhere between stupor and cognizance, defeated at Arthas' blade and dead to all the world. He'd been made to take out Arthas before he became too powerful, but it seemed he'd become too powerful already; was that his own blood dying red through the ice…?

There was a heavy burden forever cast on his heart, a watchful fire he'd never escape, and such was the duality of his very soul; through the tendrils of sleep he could hear the hushed voices of Prince Kael'thas Sunstrider and Lady Vashj, speaking in something disturbingly like concern, he was aware he'd been taken home.

Home to the Black Temple, where once he'd driven the pit lord Magtheridon out and into captivity, because that's what he'd meant all along, to defeat the Legion, but it never was his choice to make. If you'd have asked him, he didn't have beef with a lot of people, except that he'd been imprisoned for ten thousand years.

That is, he really had beef with Malfurion, his twin brother.

Like a lot of trite stories, this one too boils down to one tired cliché, where two brothers fought over the same woman. Whether Tyrande Whisperwind was really worth it, who knew, but the fact remained that Illidan loved her, and she loved his twin brother, Malfurion. You'd think she could've just as easily picked Illidan, seeing as back then, the two looked the same.

That is, before Illidan became the not-quite-demon, not-quite-elf mess of uncertain loyalties and unstoppable power, what with the wings and the markings and eyes of fire and horns.

So having to deal with that was bad enough, but on top of that there also was the fact that, like any pair of brothers, the two constantly argued and battled and fought, and Malfurion was really rather self-righteous, and this culminated with him imprisoning Illidan personally for those ten thousand years, because he was too powerful or too reckless or whatever envy translated into at the time.

Funny how Illidan never came after Malfurion personally. He came after his prison guard who hunted him after his escape instead; maybe somewhere inside he enjoyed the pursuit on part of Maiev.

There was the low crackle of fire. Indiscriminate shadows dimly taking form, Prince Kael'thas dressing the wounds on his back.

Misery loves company, as they say.

Have you grown tired of that tired cliché yet, of two guys fighting over one woman? Whoever wrote Warcraft lore apparently hadn't, just how many bitter male nerds had cried over someone else taking their girl, I wonder, before writing the bit about Illidan and Malfurion, then Arthas and Kael'thas, and how Arthas had taken Jaina Proudmoore all to himself.

So you had Kael'thas inwardly sad about that, and that's what lay beneath the desperation with which he sought a way to save his people, after being betrayed by the Alliance and saved by the naga witch, Lady Vashj.

That's how he'd formed his alliance with Illidan: here, curiously enough, was the first show of compassion he'd been offered in regard to helping the Sin'Dorei. You'd think they were evil. You wouldn't understand.

Illidan became aware somewhere in sleep that Kael'thas was quietly singing, murmuring low in Thalassian, humming a tune he'd never heard. After many years, his hands still aristocratic and gentle, unstained by battle and a history colored with blood. Somewhere far, very far back, they were kin.

Kael'thas tended to his wounds with nothing like the druidic medicine Illidan might have remembered from thousands of years before, it was manipulation of magic, but finely-tuned and elegant in a way that came second nature to him, and was humbling in its intrinsic proficiency. He could hear the soft rustle of scales, Lady Vashj's exit from the room. He could hear the tail end of their exchange, he needs his rest.

He became aware of the clean scent of fabric, Kael'thas' robes, red and gold, his hands graceful and strong as he worked on his wounds. He needs his rest, Illidan realized they'd said so, because it was only matter of time before Kil'Jaeden would arrive with vast dissatisfaction at his failure to defeat Arthas.

"Leave me," he quietly said, his first words since losing consciousness at Icecrown.

The hands at his back momentarily stopped; "You're awake," Kael'thas said, resuming his work after that. Being wounded like this, it was humiliating. Illidan shifted in place, one heavy wing going part of the way to unraveled when it stopped in place with a shock of pain. He cringed, and Kael'thas shook his head, carefully folding the appendage back on itself.

"Don't be stupid," his voice came quiet and composed, he was aware this was something for which the Lord of Outland was too proud, but he, too, had been tired. It occurred to Illidan this was something Kael'thas enjoyed, the Sin'Dorei craved magic the way dwarves may long for the drink. Here, of course, was something Kael'thas was too proud to admit to, as well.

They both had gone quiet with an unspoken agreement to let each other be, there came the soft singing again, melancholy, bittersweet; neither one would ever be home again.

(On to Chapter 2)

A/N: I would love to find someone interested in roleplaying Warcraft lore, especially Illidan/Kael'thas, Wrathion/Anduin, or Varian/Arthas (if this is still on here then I'm still looking, haha! Regardless of the date of the fic! ^^ ) I've had a very difficult time finding anyone interested in this, as WoW fangirls usually like RPing their OCs (which I'm not interested in doing). I don't mind at all if you don't know much lore, if English isn't your first language, if you're a little shy, or if you're new to Warcraft or to RPing; I just like writing with someone else who's passionate about the same stuff =) If you feel like giving it a go, then please reach me through the contact info on my profile. Thank you! ^^





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