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Timeless: a Wranduin Story	By : flagfish Category: +S through Z > World of Warcraft Views: 4143 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Warcraft nor any of the characters,nor do I make any money or profit from writing this story.

Chapter List
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Illidan could not deny that while he did not know this boy at all— while he appeared to speak deliriously with illness— that there was in his voice genuine reverence, there was deep sorrow there and a sense of finality, Kael spoke like he knew him—
And while it was sheer nonsense, Illidan hungered somewhere inside for acknowledgement, this sort of genuine admiration was pleasant to hear; he might have asked, Why do you need to be punished, or who is it you've mistaken me for— but he asked neither of these things.
He said only, "You really want this—"
Kael'thas leaned forth very slowly, he pressed his lips to one of Illidan's hands, where still he held his wrists; in the dark of the room, he regarded him from under the fall of his hair, with such docile sweetness it was heart-wrenching somehow.
"I've wanted this," he whispered, "for so long—"
His voice came wretched and broken, laden with so many unspoken things Illidan wondered if he wouldn't be better off with some punishment, for his own profound relief— but, in the end, he denied him.
"Do not ask such things of me," he said, "I cannot bear to hear it."
When Kael looked to him then, his eyes were wet, his voice wavered; he said, "Of course you cannot; Master has always had a gentle heart—"
At the opposite end of the room, Anduin watched this with growing curiosity; this without doubt was something ardent and intimate, but he'd not really expected to hear that Illidan had a gentle heart. He wondered what Kael'thas was trying to pull in speaking to this past Illidan as though he had known him, but, curiously, Master never remarked on that; there was emotion enough in Kael's gestures and words that Illidan felt the weight of awful things he'd never said—
He thought of Malygos' reprimands earlier that evening, how he'd thought Kael'thas was dangerous— and maybe in that there was something to which he could relate; he thought of his own potential as a druid, how sincerely he'd been encouraged in that path, and how others spoke of him like he were reckless and wild in his sorcery.
"Little mage," he said, he gently released his hold from Kael's wrists; his hand came kindly in his hair, and he brushed it from his face with softness which Kael knew—
"You've done no wrong."
From his bed at the distant end of the room, Anduin could see Kael's slender back, how he arched forth just a little, the tremble which ran through his form; his silhouetted figure collapsed against Illidan, who had tried uselessly to have him consoled and subdued. He whispered to him words in Darnassian which Anduin didn't know, but they'd only made Kael'thas cry worse, until he was a graceless, sobbing mess; Anduin was somehow reminded of the conversation he'd overheard between him and Kairoz, where Kael'thas had said, It's something very dear to my heart—
He wondered why it was that Kael ultimately turned to Kil'jaeden.
It occurred to him while he watched that there was in Illidan certain intrinsic grace, his voice was mild and calm, the words he spoke in Darnassian came like a whispering wind; he sang to Kael in low tones, and Kael'thas grew quiet with attention, soon Anduin could make out that he'd begun to sing along softly.
Kael's voice came a bit hoarse and broken, like his nose still was a little stuffed from crying, but Anduin could tell he'd likely been trained to sing, as well; elvish singing was something different from what Anduin had known in the cathedral choirs where he had praised the Light. It came ethereal and fairylike, a sound which in its distant sweetness was mysterious somehow— and while thousands of years separated the night elves from the high elves, here still was an element which left them fundamentally bound.
Kael'thas continued singing a little longer when Illidan paused, and Illidan waited a bit before finally asking, "How is it that you know the words to this song?"
Kael stilled at that and regarded him silently; Illidan asked, "Are you really here only by incident? This is a song my brother sang to me in boyhood, how is it that you know it?"
I didn't know, Kael'thas thought, that Master's brother had sung him this song; he wondered if Illidan had missed Malfurion during their nights at the Black Temple, when he'd sung this song to Kael.
In the moments that followed, there lingered between them a world of unspoken intimacy, Illidan understood Kael had no intent to tell him things he nevertheless hungered to reveal; he understood that the burden of a secret was something isolating and unrelenting, which must surely become exhausting to bear.
He said nothing while Kael'thas reached for him, while his fingers ran along Illidan's forehead and into his hair; after that, they slid lightly down along Illidan's face, gently over his eyes, where the faint brush of his eyelashes had Kael frown curiously. This was where he had his blindfold, he remembered, and there on his forehead, that's where he had his horns—
And there, along his chest, he once had his demonic markings, Kael'thas thought he still could trace the spiraling patterns that now weren't there; "Master is still handsome," he said very quietly, and he wished he could stay here with him, like this—
But that wasn't why he—
Illidan might have asked, Who was your Master, whom you'd mistaken me for— but he suspected already that, somehow, there was no mistake.
Now that Kael lay so vulnerably close in his arms, he could feel his own magic in him, it pulsed with the rhythm of his heart, the temperature of his skin, the flow of his breath; there was a naked sort of adoration there which Illidan had never been shown before, and he wondered what it was he hadn't been told.
"Master," Kael asked, his voice came sleepy and soft; "Say to me again that I've done no wrong."
"Why do you ask this?" Illidan replied, "Did you not ask just moments before to be punished?"
"Then punish me, Master, that I may finally sleep."
Everything I'd done was for my people; everything, except—
For a long time, Illidan remained silent, he didn't ask what it was Kael had done; then, he finally spoke, "Very well," he said, "for your own benefit."
At that, Kael went very still; he wasn't sure he'd heard right.
His eyes went wide open all at once, he regarded Illidan in astonishment, like he'd just been promised the most wonderful gift; "Really?" he asked, because here was something Master had never agreed to before.
This Illidan, he knew, had not been bound and restrained for ten thousand years, he did not know the profound shame that Master had felt at Maiev's capable hands; but it was a sort of shame Kael'thas, himself, had known well, as it was the very foundation on which Quel'thalas had been built.
But he would tell Illidan nothing of that now— because he suspected that, if Illidan knew, he would deny him any sort of punishment, just as he always had.
He rose quietly out from under the covers and gracefully slid his underwear off, the last bit of clothing he'd had on at the time; then, he proceeded to where Illidan was lain, and climbed face-down over his lap.
Illidan sat in place slowly, this sort of thing he'd only ever done with his brother— but, somehow, Kael was almost like a little brother to him, too.
He regarded the milky white span of his back, the fluid fall of his hair, the elegant curve of his behind and his slender, narrow hips;
"Strike me," Kael asked, "Master, please—"
His words cut off abruptly when the sound echoed crisp and distinct through the room, and Kael stiffened completely with disbelief; his voice came in a choked, severed cry, the impact of the strike rippled through the cascade of his hair, and he said in breathless tones,
"Again—"
He'd always known— he'd always known this was how it would feel, how strong and certain Illidan was, that he would hold himself back and spare him the real extent of his physical capacity— beneath the mess of his hair, Kael smiled blissfully, he spoke impatiently when he asked him for more—
But there was something about this that Illidan did not like; it wasn't that Kael visibly found this arousing, or that he'd asked without ever explaining what he sought punishment for— but rather the wretched reality beneath it, where he could not find peace until punishment finally came.
It was something so deeply and darkly ingrained that Kael was no longer consciously aware of it, and where he'd deny anything of the sort if he were asked outright; he'd say it was just a bit of fun, or that he'd liked the loss of control— but this sort of dismissal was the real tragedy of the matter, a hallmark of self-destruction at its most devastating extent, where any hope of salvation had been shut off from within.
To Illidan, this wasn't like his physical struggles with Malfurion, where there was competitive spirit and a desire to conquer without shame; it was truly a terrible thing that this boy, whoever he was, genuinely needed to be subjugated.
But this was laughable, wasn't it? What were they as a people, if not subjugated in the first place...?
Illidan continued until he could no longer bear it, he could feel the living struggle of Kael's muscles over his lap, the femoral pulse at his thigh, the hot arousal of his cock and the elegant maneuver of his bones; he said, "I'm finished, do not ask such a thing of me again."
For Kael'thas, it was nowhere near enough— but it was more than he'd ever received from Master before, and he knew better than to question a gift.
Very slowly, he pulled himself up from over his lap, the corners of his eyes were damp and still he was subtly trembling; he reached for Illidan's face and leaned forth to take his mouth without a word.
The gesture came with pained and longing hunger, he whispered silent words of thanks and took his lips so tenderly Illidan wasn't sure what to make of it; after that, Kael reached down to take his hand and kissed the flesh of his palm, which still pulsed hotly with the after-effect of the strikes.
Illidan could not deny that after the fact Kael went directly to sleep without further qualms, he laid his head on his chest like a child and held on to him naturally, like they'd lain to sleep this way every night; he observed him for some moments and wondered why it was that Lady Vashj had requested that he'd stay the night with this boy.
"It was you," he said softly after Kael was asleep, "earlier, wasn't it— it was you who had played the Song of Elune—"
(On to Chapter 26)
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- 25
- 26
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Timeless: a Wranduin Story