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The Price of Gratitude	By : Mayamahal Category: +S through Z > World of Warcraft Views: 6057 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Blizzard or World of Warcraft. I make no profit or money for writing this.

Chapter List
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"I need to leave."

Maia presented the news to Koda's rigid spine as he stood on the grass, naked, the stars blinking above. She was as naked as he, sore and warm and sticky from their 'fight', but strangely alert.

He'd left her arms not minutes before, panting and post-coital, but far from relaxed. His disentanglement had been gentle but firm, and the frustration she read in his eyes now radiated from every line of his body. It had taken every last bit of will power she had to say those words, but once said, Maia knew she'd never back down.

She'd lived with him these past months, but beyond that, they ... knew each other. A resonance in the bones that radiated through the soul, an acceptance of the other that transcended emotion. This awareness, this understanding, made it clear to her that Kodakai knew her stubborness as deeply as he knew his own.

To its credit, the intense love-making had mollified the Troll. He did not protest, letting the silence stretch out long and still between them.

Eventually, he nodded his head, and looked down.

"How long?" came his quiet reply.

Maia shivered, closing her eyes, wrapping her arms around her naked chest. "Long enough to straighten this out, and find out what happened and restore some semblence of honor to my name. I'm no trai-"

The Troll spun around and took a step towards her; fearless for once this evening, she held her ground and stared up at him.

His teeth were bared as he breathed loudly through them, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. "You think... I give a rat's ass about ...that?" he hissed, incredulous.

She stared up at him, confused and startled.

He passed a large three-fingered hand over his face, looking around at the moonlit lake, his comfortable home, his peaceful haven. "You are the most oblivious, stupid, fluffy-headed little-" and it went on, a mumbling torrent that went with him as he spun on his heel to stalk down the bank.

In particular, he went to the little area he'd set aside for her work, where she'd cast a few primitive pieces mostly to show him how it was done. As she watched, he kicked around some tools, pushing aside fire-bricks, digging into the dirt. Finding what he'd been looking for, his long legs propelled him back up to where she stood, frowning at him, arms around her chest.

He reached for her, fumbling with her hand, and she felt him shove something roughly over her left wrist, metal clinking softly against matted glass.

Fingers running over the rough surface of the bangle, her skin recognized the metal as gold. Her gold, what they'd mined together when she'd first arrived, limping and starved. Blinking up at him, her fingertips continued to see what her eyes could not in this light; it was rough polished, still bearing the marks of its casting. The inside, though, against her skin...

It was as smooth as silk, high polished to where she was sure it would gleam. Etched into it, though, so that it would press against her skin like a private prayer meant for her body alone, were recessed symbols... No...

Words.

She withdrew the bangle and peered at the inside, fingers rubbing along the polished surface. Zandali. The old language in written form, spelling words of endearment in a way they both recognized.

She choked with emotion as her fingertip strayed along the word 'wife'.

He had made this for her, in blending of custom for them both, a gold circle that meant forever, to be worn always-

The bracelet was tugged gently away and replaced on her wrist. "You can read the rest later," he murmured, before picking her up bodily and giving her a soft, aching kiss. He simply held her against him, not letting her feet touch the ground, his brow pressed to hers, bare chest to bare chest. Her arms, tight about his neck, squeezed gently, pulling a sigh from him.

"I don't care about the charges," he whispered. "Just ... I can't take you if you aren't mine.. I can't present you as mine, before the Elders of my tribe, to claim as my ow-"

The rest of the night was a blur.

A day later, Koda was landing his large draconic mount a half mile or so north of her home, the dark, haunted forests of Gilneas all the more ominous in the parting of these two lovers. Her pack at her feet, she looked up at him as he remounted, fussing with his reins longer than necessary while she fingered the gold bracelet around her wrist.

Eventually, though, he looked down at her; she gripped his ankle, squeezing it as she looked up at him.

Voicing a noise between a growl and a sob, he leaned down and gripped the collar of her dress, fingers entangling in her cloak, and hauled her up off her feet once more. This kiss was a primal one, salty with the tears of a Troll and the bitterness of an unknown distance of time and necessity.

"I'll come back to you," she pressed against his mouth. She felt him shudder. "Whole or in pieces," she laughed, tears on her cheeks. "I swear."

He simply nodded, stealing another fierce, anguished kiss, before dropping her to her feet and yanking savagely at his reins. He was in the air before she could recover her balance, watching him disappear into the clouds, leaving her gasping, weightless and near-grieving.
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The Price of Gratitude