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Part 1 of Dabble dumps!
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2017-06-27
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Warcraft dabbles

Summary:

This is a massive project of anthologies that I didn't want to lose in my growing pile of ideas, there will be lots of broken and unfinished pieces, this I consider to be one of my greatest, longstanding achievements and I do hope you appreciate the love and thought that I've put into it as much as I do.

This work deals with all kinds of subject matter, some not suitable for regular audiences, so I will provide a fair warning to all readers. This is a very NSFW post, containing rape, violence, and mature content. Please be advised before reading, a content warning will be provided per chapter it concerns so you may avoid certain pieces. My intention is not to cause any harm but to share my work, please read at your own risk. NO INCEST. NO UNDERAGE.

I do not condone any act within these chapters that is non-consensual/abusive or seen as unfavorable actions.

Notes:

Female blood elf/male orc Both original characters

Chapter 1: Finnik dabbles 1

Summary:

Female Blood Elf/Male Orc

Pronounced

Ash

Fin-ICK

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Asch was sitting in a warm cave with Thunders while their husbands went out hunting with the clan, Finnik and Asch were guests of the Frostwolves and Thrall had them stay close. Thunders was sitting snugly by the fire, nursing Thrall's third son, Phera.

 

The Warchief had been busy with his wife, her belly poked under the furs and Asch touched her own flat stomach, Thunders notices and giggles. "They will come, do not fear" Asch doubted that, showing it upon her face. Thunders shifts, and pretty purple skin hidden by her dress is revealed, a funny looking marking pasted on her belly. Asch tilts her head, blinking, "what is that there?" Thunders looks down, holding her son steady. "Oh! This?" The Nightelf pulls her robes down further, exposing a brown circle with symbols. Left was a small flame, the top was wind, the bottom was water, the right earth and in the middle of her stomach was a symbol for a lightening bolt.


"You'll think it's silly," she says while putting her son in the furs. "It's a blessing all Shamen paste on their mates, it's suppose to bring fertility...." Thunders runs her hands over it lovingly. "It must work, I've been given three boys!" Asch blinks, the ink looks washable, easily taken off. The brown contrasted the elves skin, but the mere fact of its being made Asch feel strange and jealous. Finnik was a Shamen too, he had never done such a thing. "It's to bring babes? When do you put it on?" Thunders fixes her robes back in place and answers with a cheery smile, "before we make love, Thrall draws the ink on, he's asking the elements to bless our coupling and quicken my womb. Now he just asks for another healthy babe." Thunders leans toward her, a sly smile, "he's wants a boy but I can ask the elements of things as well- I want a girl!" Her giggling only makes Asch frown more.

Finnik has never once tried this when they made love, Asch has tried Bloodelf remedies, herbs and salves, nothing has worked so far. Thunders didn't seem to notice her cloudy mood as the horns blew, the hunt has returned. The Wintersaber behind Thunders picks it's massive head up at the noise, looking lazily at the thin mouth of the cave, licking his teeth. Silver has been with Thunders for many years, though the Saber was young still it had aged with knowledge. Asch had been only recently chosen by one of the Frostwolf Cubs, the little beast was tripping on his paws and yipping at the entrance as the hunters passed. Asch had chosen Havoc as a fitting name for the creature.

When Thrall and Finnik returned they were smiling and boisterous, hauling a massive stag to the back of the cave "my love!" Thunders beckons as they place the beast on the table. Asch watches as the two embrace, politely because of their guests. Finnik chuckles warmly, washing his hands in a clay bowl full of water while watching them. Yellow-Ear saunters in with Snowsong, both wolves have their luscious chest fur and muzzles covered in pink from blood, Havoc yips and prances toward them. "I'll be back in the morning to help you skin the beast." Finnik says, Asch gathers herself, knowing that he wanted to part. to give Thrall and his wife the privacy.

The other Orc claps his hand on Finnik's shoulder, telling him to get rest and have a warm night. Thunders says a small goodbye and Asch shares it, Finnik ushers her out with his wolf not far behind, Havoc cradled in her massive jaw.

Asch's frown sets deep as they enter their cave, Finnik notices and tilts his head "what's wrong?" Finnik was a handsome man, Orc he may be but very pleasing to look at. His jaw was set and covered in a black beard, short and kept nice, it extended beside his ears and up to his matching hair. Finnik kept his hair long and in a fox tail, with two long trails that were threaded with feathers and beads, braided nice and tied simply. His eyes were a shade of blue, Asch could never tell which blue, they always seemed to change from laser to sky, then cobalt to ice. Right now they were warm and deep, like an ocean. His tusks were kept sharp, silver rings were cut through them and placed around, much like the matching earrings he wore on his tall ears.


Asch never thought she would marry an Orc, a Bloodelf was suppose to marry another Bloodelf, and have pretty babies. Not an Orc. Asch was peachy skinned and green eyed, pale snow hair and had a perky nose. She was small compared to her husband, his arm was bigger then her torso, but that hadn't stopped her from loving him. Though, she was angry with him now.

Asch huffs, staring at him with squinting eyes, Finnik holds his hands out to her, but she arches away. "Thrall places a blessing on Thunders' womb every time they make love- she says it's a Shamen thing. Why don't you?" Finnik looks shocked, then confused and strange all at once, as if he doesn't understand her question. "What?" He manages through winded surprise, Asch narrows her eyes further and props her hand on her hip, "I know you know what I mean Finnik! It's a fertility symbol! Why don't you do it to me?! Don't you want me having your babies?!" Finnik stares at her with big eyes, those blue beautiful eyes, he stumbles over his words before whispering: "you... Want to have m-my babies...?"


Asch ignores his question and throws her hands up, "it probably doesn't even work does it? But the mere fact you didn't think to do it makes me upset! You don't want a family do you?" Again, Finnik's expression continues to spiral into deeper confusion and he asks the same again, "you... You really want my babies?" Asch scowls deeply. "Of course I do! What did you think I wouldn't? I'm not barren or too small- if that's what you're worried about! I can carry an Orc child! I married a Clan leader- I know what that means you know! You need an heir!" Asch was steaming, almost yelling at him as she ended her rant.

Whether or not Asch wanted a baby was out of her control, she had to have one so Finnik's clan had another leader, that was her duty, like her mother always said. Spread your legs and breed, little one. It's your duty as a wife to give your husband sons. Asch had been told this before, she knew it was expected of her, even more then it would have, now she was married to an important man. Her mother would be proud if she knew, disgusted by the fact he was an Orc, but still proud. Bloodelves crave status and power, Asch didn't much. Finnik has given her the ear of the Warchief and great standing. Though he was an Orc, her father would say power was power. Asch does not believe her father would be pleased with Finnik.

"I... I didn't think you..." He was slow, like his brain was catching up. "That you... I'm an Orc..." Asch snorts at this "I know that! What of it?" Finnik stares at her as if she was crazy "it's one thing to marry an Orc... You're a Bloodelf, their babies aren't... Orcs" Asch's mouth hangs open, then snaps shut. Finnik thought...

"Finnik Hellhammer I married you because I like Orcs! Do you think I'd hate our baby because it might look like you?!" There was shame ghosting his face and Asch knew without him saying it that it was exactly his thought. Orcs may not be the most attractive when compared to Bloodelves, but if she wanted to marry her own kind her father would have saw to it. Finnik was quiet, probably embarrassed by himself and his foolish words. Asch sighs, softening a little, "I married a silly man." Finnik perks up as she walks toward him and touches his face with soft fingers, cupping his cheeks. "This is why you're so afraid to fill my womb? That a pretty Bloodelf shouldn't be reduced to carry an Orc baby?" She makes a tisking sound and runs her thumb across his furry cheek, ruffling his groomed beard. "I want to give you litters Finnik, our babies will be as handsome as their father, as strong too. Let me give you sons." Finnik looks dizzy from her words, but bounces back with a deep growl and picks her up in one swift motion.


Asch gasps as shes picked off the ground like nothing. Finnik grabs her bottom in his hands and squeezes the flesh, carrying her to the big bed full of furs. She's dropped with playful roughness, his gaze unblinking and lustful. Asch yips as her dress is pushed upward roughly with his hands, "my pretty mate." Finnik says lovingly, smelling her skin and kissing her belly, "stay put." He says before vanishing into the room.

"You want my baby? I'll give it to you pretty elf." Finnik rips the silky dress and throws the remnant on the cave floor. His other hand is poised to paint with the clay like paste. It was artful and felt warm, her pink belly was marred with the funny substance and Finnik muttered a few prays in Orcish before smiling devilishly at Asch. His fingers rub between her folds, running slick and easy, "so wet." Asch whimpers as his fingers probe.


It didn't take long for Finnik to find himself atop her, thrusting his cock between her thighs and sucking lewd marks into her flesh. "N-Not where they can s-see." She moans helplessly, arching her neck into his preying mouth. Asch was thrashing about under him, moaning and shaking as he fucks into her with abandon, her little hips try and match him, but Finnik traps her, forcing her still. She protests, trying harder, but the little elf is no match for him, so she whines and nips his skin. Finnik snarls, ripping himself away from Asch before flipping her onto her belly. Asch gasps as he pushes his full length back inside her, his wide hands forcing her hips up to him. Asch's back was bowed harshly, Finnik's hips jolt her forward and Asch shivers with pleasure.

Her mother had promised pain from this, warned her to be good and wait for her husband to finish. Finnik never finished without her and he never hurt her. Finnik always assured her pleasure over his own. Orcs were savage and carnal in their couplings, Asch's body was used and spent each time Finnik had his way, but it didn't feel like what her mother described. It didn't feel like he was taking what was rightfully his, not abusing her body for his pleasure and need. It felt like they were one, that he was sharing with her. Asch felt equal, even as he bent her over like a dog and held her down with a firm hand. Asch could easily break free and have Finnik beneath her, he would surly enjoy the sight of his little mate in his lap but Asch liked the warm feeling of his body looming over her.

Wives of Orcs were equal to each other in their culture, in estate and titles, what Finnik was, Asch was as well. She was granted wife of the clan, named so and commanded the respect. If Asch had married one of her own, she would have been the wife of them and her estate would be flooded into his.

Asch had been given power she had no idea how to wield, but Thunders had said it wasn't pertinent she need too. Much like her own culture, it would be Finnik who would do it for her, though it was nice to have the choice. So Asch was content with her power as she was pressed to the sheets and rammed into. Finnik was rough with her, but it never hurt. Hopefully soon, with much vigor and Shamen spells, she would be clan mother and carry their first baby.

Finnik's breath was ragged and short, "I want to have you all night" he whispers into her ear, tugging the tip. Asch jolts, a straggled noise escaping her gaping mouth. Her eyes were half lidded and cloudy as Finnik lewdly swipes his tongue along her spine, the familiar burn in her stomach coming back as he thrusts deeper. Petting her hip with his hand, slowly moving to tease her cunt with the blunt of his finger.

"H-Harder! Deeper! Please!" She babbles, Finnik's finger swirls around her nub, humming. "Too hard and I'll break you" his voice was strained, but he chuckles anyway. Asch thrashes, head shaking, wiggling her hips into him. Finnik's cock shoves deeper inside, but his pace doesn't grow, Asch huffs angrily. Finnik could hurt her, she knew that danger when she met him. Knows it now as he's on top of her. She can't help but tingle at the thought, no male elf could, no matter how rough, they could never hurt her like an Orc might. Finnik was a powerhouse of bulky muscle and strength. Orcs were built for abuse and tremendous labors. Bloodelves were dainty, even men. Asch wasn't suppose to like rough and harsh sex, she was soft and sweet, certainly not suppose to get sweaty and have muck painted on her pretty skin. Mother would hate Finnik, she knew it with all her being. Daddy would roll over and die if he heard his baby girl liked being fucked on her belly like a bitch in heat.

Daddy would try and kill Finnik when they met, but the two had to meet at some point. Asch couldn't pretend they didn't exist. Her brother Eli might be harsh, probably fight with Finnik. Finnik would go easy on him, because now her stupid brother was his family and Orc's treasure family. No matter how foolish. Asch enjoyed the simplistic nature of Orc's, they took care of one another and loved the earth. Bloodelves were tricky and underhanded, it was exhausting to deal with the politics. Orc's were straightforward, they fight, they make up, foulness forgotten. Bloodelves never forget slights, no matter how small. Asch's neighbor still scowls at her, because Asch had stepped on flowers. Asch paid for the replacement and apologized, but that doesn't matter to elves.

Asch would be tired and sore tomorrow, but she had been today as well, she cornered Finnik each chance she got, because they wouldn't get to when they arrived in Silvermoon. Daddy might not even let them sleep in the same room. Asch hoped not. Orc men get uneasy when their mates aren't by their side, at least from past experiences they don't. Asch knows Finnik is snappy when she isn't around, she tempers him as he likes to praise, keep him stable and in tune with the elements.

Finnik would be restless in a bed without her and be snappy because of sleepless nights. He has been before when she couldn't be with him, Thrall says he's near insufferable, but Thrall is the same way. All Orcs must be. Thunders says so too. Asch hasn't met many other wives to confirm her theory further.


Asch gasps loudly as Finnik picks her up and holds her too him. Growling in her ear, Asch crashes with him, feeling his cock throb and gush inside her, cupping her belly.

Xxx

Finnik rode close to her on Yellow-ear as Asch held the reins of her Hawkstrider. Thrall and Thunders had let them part, they were close to Silvermoon now and Finnik became grumpy. "They aren't that awful," Asch huffs, knowing it didn't matter to him. Finnik gives her a long stare before answering, "liar. Your father might think I'm your guard but we have to tell them. They will be awful." Asch bit her lip, her father didn't know about their marriage, he wouldn't like it anyway and call it fake. Without the papers or proof, Finnik and Asch weren't married by Bloodelf standards. Though their union was very real to Trolls, Orcs, Tauran and Forsaken, her father would scoff and say that getting married by a Shamen surrounded by dirt could hardly count as an actual ceremony, dismissing the whole thing.

Asch was worried, Finnik took her virginity the night they married, her father would be furious since he'd consider her unmarried. He would say horrible things to him and call Asch a whore. He had done so before to her little sister Vela, after she had only kissed the bread makers boy. Asch had later found out through her giggling sister that he had not only just kissed her. Asch had giggled with her, knowing the boy was harmless and out for her sisters best interest, but having no estate Vela couldn't marry him. Father wouldn't allow it and seek out a better match, unknowing Vela was spoiled. Asch's father had tried with her many times, desperately trying too get her too marry, he could make the match, but could not force her to say yes.

It frustrated him, so much in fact that he had grown to disregard his first daughter. Donating his time to Eli instead, also forgoing Vela for being a lost cause and a whore, so he says. Eli was his golden child, blond and sculpted. Eli never disappointed their father, but still loved his sisters, sometimes even attempting to quell their fathers rage when wrought against either sister, usually it worked. Asch was certain when she bought her Orc husband into the mix to meet her dear parents that Eli's skill against their father would not work in the slightest.

Silvermoon was dazzling, colored in bright pearl whites and lavish sheer silks, from deep blood reds to velvet purple. Asch was always taken by it, Finnik was scowling harshly at everything that passed him. The wolf her husband was riding looked as uneasy as her master. Asch tuts, sighing while looking at him, "please my love, we'll get through this." Finnik snorts, "maybe." He still looks fowl "thank gods I didn't get you pregnant. They'd have my head." Asch puckers and straightens, hiding no anger she felt for his statement.

By the sheepish gulp, he knew as well. "Asch... you know what they would say." Asch did. They would say it was rape and make a huge seen, shame Finnik and possibly disown her.

Her home was the biggest in the district, her guards greeted her, ushering them inside. "I'll take your mounts," Asch gave him the reins of her Hawkstrider, while Finnik snarls. "She is no mount!" The guard upturns his nose, "the wolf cannot go inside." Finnik juts his jaw, "Yellow, off be back by sun down." The wolf would find a place to sleep, Asch watched her trail off with simple twitch of her tail and Finnik stood tall by Asch's side. "Is Eli home?" The guard smiles lightly, "yes, the young master is in the flower grounds with Lady Vela." Asch smiles, looking at Finnik. "Let's go see them, come." Asch tugs him, knowing by heart the way. Finnik loved nature as a Shaman, Asch could feel his shoulders relaxing as they cut through the trees and flowers.

Asch perked up when she saw the black fluffed hair of her sister peaking out of a cherry tree. "Vela!" Finnik let her go and sauntered quietly behind as the other girl jumped up, flowers of all color in her bushy hair "Asch?" Vela gasps, "Eli, Asch is home!" Another elf emerges, hair full of blossoms, winding around his long pale hair. "And she's brought ah- she's brought someone!" Vela comes to her sister, hugging her tightly, Finnik stays close behind. Asch looks at him, flushed cheeks and pretty smile. "Eli, Vela this is my husband. Finnik Hellhammer." The two look at him with the same wide green eyes, blinking at his frame like they had never seen an Orc. Maybe that was true, maybe the two had never. Yet, they surprised him and smiled, Vela giggling "my, we thought she'd never." Eli says teasingly "a mysterious adventurer is he?" Eli chuckles warmly, "Asch said she was always going to marry an adventurer." Asch colors brightly at this, Finnik eases, offering a smile himself. "I am, in fact I found her on one of many exploits. Caught in a tree." Eli goads him into telling the full story, completely revealing in his little sisters embarrassment.

"And she doesn't drive you crazy?" Finnik sits on the stones, "of course not."

Notes:

EDITED
Sept 30/17

Chapter 2: Thrall dabbles 1

Summary:

Thrall/Original female nightelf

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Asch's plump lips parted, the sweat caked against her brow, clothes tattered and hair matted. Her own breath was loud, crackling along the fire. Each breath was a labor, her fingers tingled, drained raw. Her magic was wasted, exhausted from the fight.

 

 

"Stormwind owes you a great debt," a deep, proud voice booms behind her back, Asch stares, teeth clinched, staring wide milky sliver eyes at the smoking, melted rocks that was once a crucial part of the city. The guards and people alike still trying to control the fires, trying desperately to avoid the chasms. Nobles helped the poorest of the proud stone capital, cleaning the rubble and sharing bread, rations and tired smiles.

 

 

They had won. For now.

 

 

"Owes me nothing. This isn't my home." She came from the life tree, the deep beautiful city of Dranassus, it was saved from the onslaught of the destroyer, surely the life tree would be set ablaze, helpless Nightelves forced to flee and watch their queen do the same, helpless to halt the burn. The beautiful lush burned right through, a mound of wounded earth bare to the world, once the home. Where would they go if not for mistake of Deathwing.

 

The deep voice laughed, the king, homely and true, "you're this cities healer. Your home as much as mine." Expect Varian built it, with his wife. Made it into a glorious monument to the Alliances power, sheltering all who stood under its banner.

 

Asch let Varian's work burn to the ground, let people be consumed by the falling pearl stone and die because her shields weren't long enough to reach them.

 

Her fingers twitched, throbbed from severe burns, terrible welts that would leave marks on her lavender skin. "Come" the King touched her arm, cool against her heated skin, over heated skin. The fires were intense.

 

"You need to eat, sleep and tomorrow accept a great honor, one few possess." The lions talon, stripped off the Kings crowning kill. Tradition was for each king to kill a game lion, Varian had spent months long until he returned. The pelt was stripped and used in his wedding bed, given to his wife and the bones were crafted into armor and swords, to give to his most trusted. The lions talon would grant her clemency from the Horde, if she were stupid enough to be caught. Any who hold the talon present it to any under Horde banner and are granted immediate audience with their Warchief.

 

Both sides, Horde and Alliance agreed this was a fair channel, those owner of the trinket were safely returned home, both believing in the importance of the person. No harm would be done to them. Asch didn't know what the Horde used, Thrall had never given one out, that she knew of, nor did Varian ever approve or oversee the ceremony, she was the first in hundreds of years.

 

Asch did not care for the honor, her place was at the side of the King, if she dare explore the kingdoms she wouldn't venture where the talon would be useful to her. It was invaluable to those who did venture, if the holder wasn't set through the proper channels it was an act of war that the offended party was allowed to act upon. The Alliance and Horde were always at a perfect stand still.

 

 

The morning came with the bleats of trumpets and finicky maids, the King had a seamstress create something for her. It was pale white, the maids let her look at it hanging from the mirror, white and ivory. A crown of leaves from her home land trees sat delicately upon a pillow of lush silk. The boots were long, knee high and given a tall heel, Asch had never walked in a heel before. She didn't wish for this award, but she dare not look a fool while receiving it.

 

The gown had a long train, lions dancing in pearl along the edges, Asch slipped out of her simple night dress and waited for the maids to dress her. Humans weren't very tall, they used stools and the dress didn't touch the ground until it slid on her. It hid all her indecencies, but the white mesh didn't hide her skin, it wasn't suppose too.

 

Another girl, plain faced and brown eyed set to her hair, threading sugar blooms, falcon feathers and beads to hold them in place. They didn't weigh anything when her hair was finally dropped, flowing free. the deep purple swayed and tickled the small of her back through the tight netted fabric. Some of the girls helping out her put herself together marveled at the sight of her, as if she was Elune herself. Asch felt strange, she was used to robes and dresses, but this felt wrong. Like someone was dressing her as a bride for a wedding. It made her face burn when the guards came for her, their faces were hidden but the sound of their armor halt squeaking as they flinch after looking at her. It was no secret that human men liked the exotic looks of Draenei and Nightelves. Asch was also no exception to their lust, she knew this and their eyes stayed on her, as if she couldn't see them gawking like fools.

 

"Come my lady, the King awaits" the first said, the other stuttered like an imbecile.

 

The white pillars stood proud, two arm lengths apart, each had a long cloth banner wound around it, blue with a gold trim. The hall was stuffed full of people, King Varian stood at the throne, the party around his was colorful as it was diverse. Her own queen stood at his right, Tyrande Whisperwind was beautiful, smiling like a mother would at her own children's accomplishments, and in kind Thrall stood, wearing much the same as he did in battle, absent the hulking Doomhammer he possessed.

 

The Warchief's shoulders were tight as he looked at her, bright Aqua eyes bore into her with purpose, sizing her as if to call off the honor. It surprised Asch as he softly smiled, bowing his head to her, an honor itself. The Shaman King is heard to be gracious with his friends and immortal to his enemies. Asch blinks at him, before smiling faintly, sharing in the secret joy as others paid them no mind.

 

 

"Today we present the lions talon to the savior of the Alliance!" Asch hardly held a scoff and a snarky retort of how that couldn't be true, the King was boisterous, smiling despite the impending horror and war looming upon them, Asch reminded herself this was a happy occasion.

"She shielded our city, faced the destroyer himself and forced him to flee by her own hand! Too you Asch Greendeer!" Many cheered as the Archmage Khadgar etched the magic symbols, allowing the glow to seep through his fingertips, his pale hand looked askew by the magic, such as most that practiced the disciplines of arcane. It passed to Varian, equally looking odd as it flamed to life with blue, then Thrall took it with a pluck of green fingers, red sprung between the digits and the Warchief watched the colors dance. White, blue and red coloring his hand and flashing on his face. Asch watched Thrall.

 

 

His brow seeped into his eye line, before snapping up, he was watching her.

 

"My lady Greendeer," his rough, grounded voice sounds loud, another secret smile. Asch listened with her long ears as he padded forward with far more grace then an Orc should possess, hardly heard and much like her own people. The big hand hung in the air, flatted, save for twitching meaty digits. Asch carefully swept the talon up, Thrall staring into her blank eyes as she did his raging blue.

 

"My home is yours," his voice was low, so low that Varian and none others caught the sound of him even speaking, instead they erupted into cheers and hoots, excited for the hero feast and the celebrations. Many needed it, to forget, to drink. To drink to forget. Asch was one of those very people.

 

 

The party was in full swing, Asch watched from the side of the King all the dancing and laughing, putting on a face and smiling until it hurt her cheeks. All while drowning her misery in harsh, dry liquid. Varian wasn't paying her attention, he hadn't noticed how grim her fake smiles really were, what her laugh really showed. He paid no heed to her as she grabbed a far too full cup of wine and sauntered off, wobbling down the stairs to somewhere dark, where none would look, none would see her cry.

 

One did notice and begun to follow soundlessly.

 

Asch's head was too clear for her liking, no matter how much she forced down. Nightelves were resistant to human liquor, it made her stomach churn, bread from hours ago felt like a lead weight as she carelessly slipped out of the party, finding some dusty underused room. A guest bed for visiting nobles, the wine slopped on the floor and lumped with the dust, making a gooey puddle Asch didn't care about.

 

The priest sighs loudly, the talon caught between her breasts, the train of white cloth caught around her legs, she pulled at it, trying best to untangle it without damage. It only served to frustrate her more as it continued to weave uncooperative.

 

A snorting laugh caught her attention, more wine spills, splashing some sheet covered chair and staining the pale fabric with deep red, "quite the trap is it?" The voice belonged to Thrall, Asch stood pathetically, twisted in her own dress, dryly staring at his smug look and crossed arms, like he was mocking a child.

 

Asch turns herself, turning the fabric tighter to her legs, pitching the skin. His hair was simpler now, braided without the metal bangles and his clothes were simpler, armor hiding away with wherever his Doomhammer was.

 

"Stop twisting little elf, let me help," his steps were soundless again, Asch let him close, holding her arms away from her hips as he went about trying to figure out the mess. What was dress and what was train. His hands weren't shy, they carefully pulled the fabric away, Asch could feel the dress loosen. Suddenly it dawned on her how warm those hands truly were, they weren't hot like the fires of Deathwing, but cozy and heated, like a lovers embrace. Her thoughts stopped there as his head of black hair came up and his eyes were on her again, proud smile upon his chiseled face.

 

"You're free, my lady." The comment made her laugh, he bowed comically forward, thick braids brushing the floor. "Free" Asch toyed with the word, pruning her lips, then as he rose up again. Asch let herself spin, the heavy fabric of her skirt dusting his feet and ankles, Thrall hummed out his laughter. "Much to much to drink have you, little elf?" The warm green hand stole away her wine and brought it to his own lips, drinking full two gulps and setting the now empty cup aside in a filthy table full of dust, almost disturbing it up into the air.

 

"You just wanted it" Asch found her good humor coming back each time his smile grew, finding that she wanted to pull fits of laughter from the Orc in kind. Thrall smirked at the teasing.

 

"You let me have it" he baited.

 

"Did I?" She adds.

 

Thrall nods confidently, easily finding the chair next to the table, settling down among the caking dust without a care. "I took it, you didn't ask for it back." His logic was correct, Asch scowled playfully, sitting herself into the opposite chair, the dress be dammed. "You stole you mean?" Her words came out as a scornful mother, chiding a child, but Thrall seemed urged on rather then reprimanded by them.

 

"I'll get you another, hmm?" His tone was light and his brow raised in flirtation, Asch didn't dare assume it to be true however. "Much to much to drink have you, little Orc?" Her words oozed mocking, as she repeated his scold, abridging his voice with a cooing. Thrall's playful smile deepened into a sinful smirk, "I assure you there is nothing little about me, pretty elf." Asch knew she wasn't drunk enough to continue to imagine his words weren't implying naughty implications, she dared believe he was flirting with her.

 

 

"I suppose you'll have to prove it to me," she purrs, Thrall looks at her with dark eyes, lustful and blown, but his head shakes free. "Lady Greendeer-" "Asch," he falters at the correction.

 

"Asch," he nods lightly, "we are drunk. I cannot..." He didn't finish, nor did she need him too. Asch felt no disappointment, rather, attraction to his chastity. Humans had no such restraint. "I was..." He stops himself again, looking at the gooey lump of wine and dust that begun to seep into the oak wood, staining it's purity. "I'm staying in the city, until we are certain Deathwing is no longer a threat. If you would like to accompany me, the gardens are beautiful?" Asch licked her lips, faintly tasting wine and something harsher she had earlier, while in thought.

 

"Are you... Do you wish to court me, Warchief?" Her eyes watched critically as the green of his cheeks colored slightly, "if you'll allow me?" There was no shyness in his answer. "I am Alliance?" He shrugs one massive shoulder.

 

"I am no longer truly Warchief of the Horde. Even so... It would not sway me. I have seen much of you, your talents and promise. It does not bother me so that you are of enemy blood."

 

Asch let his words seep down like water in soil, he had been watching her, thinking of her. Thrall was a handsome creature, none so gathered her attention like he had, none of her own kind or any Alliance alike.

 

"I expect flowers. Nightelf men make beautiful arrangements to impress courting mates."

 

 

A tiny almost timid smile broke into a grin, "I shall have much to impress you with, then."

 

 

As the chief healer of Stormwind, Asch had many duties, that of healing the wounded, advise the King and teach the young how to harness the powerful magicks that would bulks them into the next generation of priest. Today was no exception, orders were barked and Asch glared at each student who presumed not paying attention was a good idea.

 

Another bout of quiet snickers and Asch snapped.

 

"You are healers! Dignified and poise. Not laughing fools! Will you think it's funny when a comrade dies?!"

 

There was utter silence.

 

Then a long, deep laugh that had Asch snarling, then blazing with embarrassment as her students awed at the mighty Warchief laughing at their teacher.

 

"Healing the wounded is a noble deed, a heavy burden. You do best to heed Lady Greendeer's every word." His eyes were bright and kind, "you will find no better." Asch was thankful that her students were so fixed upon the hulking Orc, her face was aflame and even her lavender skin could not mask the bright red washing over her nose, tipping to the points of her long ears.

 

"Dismissed!" Thrall stood at the mouth of the entrance, mocking her with a teasing smile as each student clambered out of the room, tripping over hooves and toes as they scuttled passed the Shaman.

 

"You are to harsh, pretty elf," Asch hisses, grabbing her cloak from the grand chair behind her massive desk. "Don't you dare!" He looked ever so playful as he marched toward her, a coy smile resting between his ivory tusks. "I dare," before Asch could growl back, his hand presented something to her.

 

It looked tiny in his hand, an artfully crafted gray stone in the shape of a flower, a beautiful rose, carved with a steam and few thrones, pointed leaves to match under the winding petals.

 

"It is no arrangement, but my culture gifts carved pieces," his smile was bashful. "Warriors give their women prized beasts, slew to show prowess. Nightelves believe life precious, I did not believe you'd appreciate that." Asch stared unblinkingly at the rock rose, a shuttering breath passed between them and she shot her eyes up to him, his expression hopeful and on edge.

 

"You... You made this?" He nods slowly, assuring her such. "It's beautiful!" Thrall juts his hand toward her, she knew her eagerness showed then as she scooped the finely carved rock from him. It was heavier then she imagined it to be, his dainty fingers cradled the head, petrified it would break at the slightest sway.

 

The garden was long and the rush of water from the fall close by them aided the serenity. Thrall was guiding her through, to the stones and flowers, smiling quietly as she marveled at the new surroundings, having never bothered to come before.

 

His warm green hand pressed like a grounding weight against her back, nice and sweet, but it gave her a nasty thought, one that she voiced to him quickly.

 

"Do you truly wish to bind to me?" A fair question Asch felt needed an answer, he paused, fingers twitching, as if they were about to retract. They didn't and his face became determined, as resolve much like the stone rose clutched delicately in her opposite hand.

 

"I do, do you not?" The idea of having a mate, a mate as powerful as he, it was enough to make her forget he was of the Horde. They had fought side by side when the rise of Deathwing had come, he must have been intrigued by her, watching her as she thought before. Asch paid no one mind, she healed wounds, protected her city and went about tirelessly, caring about nothing but her goal, her duty.

 

"It is a very poor decision. Much to risk, more so for someone you hardly know..." Her words did not phase him it seems, the hard look kept, his handsome face set, but his eyes acknowledged her worry, showing a pang of concern for her point.

 

"Orcs choose mates for strength, for breeding," Thrall's voice was prideful, the Warchief came out in every word as he spoke of his people. "Stories of my father were told to me when I rose to command the Horde. He chose my mother because he believed her stronger then him." Asch worried her lip, "but she was an Orc. They were not so complicated as we." Her interruption gave him pause.

 

 

Asch knew of Thrall, met him few times before the rise, Varian having business with him, he was always kinder to her them most, but Asch had no knowledge of his feelings. It seemed to all make sense now, his soft smiles she interpreted as good faith now we're secret pinning. His deep bows and gentle words, all because he felt love for her, something Asch was always too daft to see.

 

"Do you truly believe any of our people will accept us after they discover our courtship?" Asch did not mean to sound harsh, but it was a risk she could not consider. Varian would strip her of her title, ban her from the cities. Thrall may have sparked heart aching feelings deep within her, but her life was one of healing, one of protecting, her own life was given to support the Alliance, she could not be so selfish as to think they could become mates.

 

"I have admired you from afar for to long, Asch." Her name upon his lips made her breath escape her lungs in one fleeting, shaky gasp. The hand tightened and pulled her crashing into his breast, the rose bumped between their bodies and her hands sought purchase into the meat of his green hide.

 

Asch's skirts swirled at the sudden wind, the harsh blast shook the brush, carrying petals off their buds and leaves from their branches. Thrall was creating a winding storm around them.

 

Asch's lips part, his body was firm, radiating fires hotter then lava. The wind blew fiercely through her hair, she looks up then at him. "This is asking for trouble," she weakly smiles, almost laughing at his raised brow. "I should like to see its answer," his playful tone returned with the incline of his head.

 

He kisses her.

 

The wind rushed around them, Thrall's hands snaked beyond her cloak, resting against her hips with a possessive grip, Asch mewls. It felt like he was the only thing from stopping the wind from carrying her away.

 

 

Xxx

 

Asch sits upon Thrall's stone chair, digging her fingers into the charred, rounded stone of the arm rests, her Warchief would only be the Horde's leader for another five days before formally stepping down to better things, for the sake of Azeroth.

 

The King, the Warchief, the Nightelfs mate was on his knees, face buried in her cunt, at the foot of his throne.

 

"G-Go'el!" His natural name shuttered from her lips and his flat, expansive tongue licked eagerly at her insides, lapping at her juices like a kitten would milk.

 

Asch had never felt more powerful in her life, Thrall contently told her he choose her for her strength, but though she herself could not see the potential in her, like most did.

 

Now she felt powerful, sitting his her mates stone chair, arguably the most powerful man at her feet, pleasuring her with his skillful tongue. Asch's mewls echo down the vast hall, loud and unabashed, he called his guard away, wanting to have her for himself he said.

 

And this was his idea of having her.

 

Xxx

Asch slumps, looking at all the letters, worries and complaints of both Stormwind and Orgrimmar, a tasked duty she intended to fulfill, but reading over plight after plight was getting to hard to bare. Her fair mind suddenly changed to one of over kindness, wishing to give each person what they asked for, pleads for, but she could not, had not the resources for such willful ventures.

 

The table in Thrall's counsel room was full of documents, of Stormwind, Orgrimmar and the like. Her lesson plan for her class was scattered under all the sent letters she must reply too, those were also hidden under requests from their armies, the Vanguard asking for a few hundred shields.

 

Asch sat alone in the room, ripping at her hair and cursing as she lost her spot, reading what Khadgar had sent, in the sea of parchment it was almost impossible to find. "I am no good at this!" Her voice filled out the empty room, hatred came in waves. Asch despised being unable to help, help was something she had done for Varian, but both it seemed far too much to bare, each affairs of the kingdoms were divided. Asch lost what was Alliance and what was Horde a long time ago, now the concerns and requests were scattered and it would take hours to undo it, just so she could start all over again.

 

"Asch?" Thrall had an unmistakable voice, his worried tone was clear and concise. Asch felt herself crumble in the chair, unable to fix the mess that spread across the rooms wide war table.

 

Little red men were drowning in her sea of words.

 

"I've confused everything!" Her whine was clear, picking uselessly at thick paper, crumpling the edges. "I don't know how it got like this! It was all perfect before I went and ruined it!" Vol'jin had been helping her bring all the different letters and commands here, but they were sorted together. Alliance mixed with Horde and Asch tired to pluck through it, soon plies of all sorts of things sprouted around the table, soon Asch couldn't make much sense if it.

 

Varian had been merciful about their mating, so long as she knew her duty was to Stormwind as well as her new home, he expected nothing less then exquisite from his flawless priestess. Asch had told Thrall that she could handle some of his affairs, dabbling in discrepancies and pleas, though Vol'jin had also given her armory forms to look over and adjust, handled for the first month.

 

Then this month had come in a mess of mixed up mail. Now she had to deal with her students papers, letters, Stormwinds pile and as well as Orgrimmars, she had done this with ease before. Now it was like learning a whole set of new rules. Asch had to be fair to the Alliance, while providing arms for the Horde, to fight against them. A priest cares for all life and having to give weapons to both sides of people was almost a burden she could not bare, giving them the tools to kill one another, loving both their sides with equal measure.

 

Thrall came to her, taking the papers from her hands, settling them down in the mountain in front of them. "Breath, pretty elf," Asch did as told, his hands rubbed aches out of her shoulders as she inhaled and exhaled, closing her eyes and quelling the throb in her head.

 

"It was a mess already, I heard." He comments softly, keeping to his task and prodding his fingers deep into the hidden skin of her shoulders. "Wrynn expects you do his job for him, but my Horde is nothing to concern yourself with," Asch shakes her head, head rattling from the ache. "They are my people too. I knew when we joined that I also married your duties."

 

Thrall rumbles a deep laughter, "as have I, it seems."

 

Asch turns to eye him questionably, he shrugs, a present smile resting between his massive tusks.

 

"Varian wishes to meet with me, on neutral ground of course." Asch scowls at the stone walls, "what?"

 

"He seems too want terms, of what I do not know," Thrall divulges, grinding his palms into the meat of her shoulders.

 

Varian wants terms of what? What duty of hers was forcefully passed onto him? Asch knew her husband didn't have any answers, the Stormwind King was always so vague. Thrall kisses the messy top of her head sweetly before dragging a chair toward her spot in the grand chair, one he usually sits in. He found this to be an interesting change of pace, but it was nothing new, he would work to her whim as always.

 

"Let us sort through this together?" His wife looks like she wants to protest, but it doesn't reach words. It was a long moment before anything was said, and Asch tiredly accepted his assistance, promising soon after that she would get better.

 

"My love, I'm sure you will."

 

It had taken most of their afternoon and some of their night to finally fix everything to organized piles of paper. Thrall had only begun answering an invite when Asch snaked her way into his hold, bumping his arm and shaking ink onto the fresh parchment. "Take me to bed," her shiny eyes were consumed with sleep, a smudged ink blot colored her purple cheek.

 

Asch nuzzled lazily at his neck, curling like a cat into his lap and clutching his robes, Thrall was glad then that he had the forethought to remove his Doomarmor before seeking her out.

 

The former Warchief listened to his wife's request, looping his arms around her knees and back, cradling her tired body into his warm hide. The guards, usually loud and talkative were silent as he passed with the drowsy Nightelf. Thrall nodded to each one of them in thanks.

 

Their room was vast and Thrall brought her right to their bed, bringing her under the thick furs. He held back a throaty laugh as she yawned, hands pawing for him. Thrall bent to her will, letting her pull him too her, snugly under the furs.

 

"Hmm I love you," she says into throat, "I love you too."

 

Thrall doesn't move in his sleep, he stays still and wakes easily, Asch often moves, her restless body wiggles and turns, it hardly ever wakes him. Thrall wasn't sure how close too morning it was when he awoke because his wife lifted from his grasp. "My love?" His eyes were adjusting to the darkness, but the Nightelfs eyes were shiny and sliver, able to see without a problem.

 

"Quiet! Why do you bother us?" Her hissing demands registered in his mind and he launches up, arm cradled around her flat stomach, his personal guard is standing close by and one of Asch's appointed maids shifts nervously in her feet, a brown Orc named Adca, young and careless. Asch liked her well enough, claiming her mistakes will help her learn.

 

"I was told to my lady, he insisted of me!" His wife's shiny eyes narrow at her cryptic words, "speak wholes, too early for riddles." Thrall knew when Asch's patients ran thin, not often, but they had now.

"The pink king of Stormwind! He is here! Demanding you meet him now." Her hurried voice squeaks, "he has a small army! Nothing that can take the city-but I was told but it's an act of war!"

 

Asch is cursing in her strange homeland language, leaving the bed abruptly and causing her maid to stumble back, Thrall is also throwing the covers back. "Start a fire, get my cloak an you-" she points at the excoriated guard, "out!" Thrall can see his guard hesitate, looking at him for the same command, his wife snaps, "now! I'm your queen damn you, out!" His armor clinks as he escapes and Thrall smiles proudly at the back of his wife, finally taking her proper mantle.

 

"Did the idiot say what he wanted?" Asch's maid helps her knot her hair above her head, making sure it didn't get in the way while she dresses, Thrall listens intently, equally annoyed as he buckles on his armor, Doomhammer sitting at his feet.

 

"No, my lady he demanded of you, when the guards would let him inside he asked for an envoy, of me." Thrall stares at her bare ass as she strips.

 

"Did he threaten you?"

 

There was a pregnant pause.

 

"Self righteous bastard!" Her taught frame wiggles into a silk robe,"coming to my home and threatening my people!" Something primal in Thrall's stomach made him like the sound of her words. Her long purple hair was brushed fine down her back and a single feather was threaded into it, she's shoving her boots on just as he finishes attaching the last shoulder piece.

 

"I'll kill him!" Thrall snorts, looking at his furious mate, "you will not-"

 

"I will! The insufferable fool, you could take this as a deregulation of war!" Her hands are viciously waving, "I won't." He assures, "I married one of his people not five moon ago." Asch stares angrily at him, though he knows she isn't angry, at him in the very least.

 

Snowsong rides them too the city gates, the huge doors shut for the night, only open just enough for Thrall and his wolf to fit through. Standing too close was Varian and his vanguard, one that the former Warchief knew Asch should be standing in, rather then by his side, stroking Snowsongs great mane. Thrall shouldn't have been surprised his pet had taken to Asch, Nightelves had a special way with nature and animals. The massive white wolf standing at her side and snarling at the enemy, protecting his wife with utter devotion.

 

"What in the gods names are you doing?!" Asch was first to breach, standing taller then her king.

 

 

Xxx

 

Vol'jin stares unimpressed at his old friend, the expression on the Orc oblivious and content as he watches his mate sing a foreign song to the children, "ya know she pregnant ya?" From the corner of his eye he can see Thrall's wide eyed bafflement.

 

Vol'jin waves his hand, gesturing to the happy elf clapping along to her tune. "She don' know it yet. It be obvious if yah really lookin' mon." Thrall than stares, obvious and critical, Vol'jin waits, rolling his eyes. The Orc is pushed forward far in his seat, the little elf unaware of this.

 

"Gods she is!" He says as though it's a surprising revelation. "Dis bad?" Thrall is shaking his head, smiling. "No it's wonderful, I'll go tell her what you've discovered-" the Troll King halts his movement with a firm hand, "no no, let her find out on her own."

 

"But I already know." Thrall says dubiously.

 

"Act surprised den."

 

Xxx

 

Asch's belly poked his sculpted stomach as she met his thrusts, whining in pleasure. Thrall's finger circles the edge of her baby bump, primal powers swirled around his brain as he looked between them, their connection and her swell. Asch was beautiful, arching her back, head dipped into the pillows and her vast hair spread across the bedding.

 

"Harder.... Please." She begs, twisting under him, fighting to force herself deeper on his cock. Thrall snarls, grabbing her ass and back, and lifting her up, himself back on the foot of the bed. The pregnant Nightelf was now seated fully on his thighs, her body shivered, head dipping back enough that the strands of her hair tickled his legs. Asch doesn't sit still for long, her hands support on his stomach and her hips bob, fucking herself down onto him deep and harsh, moans loud and pleased sighs.

 

"Go'el hah," her pretty mouth hangs open and her thighs quiver, her tiny, breathless moans urge him to thrust up harder. Not many later her body locks and she screams, twitching and wiggling from his continued onslaught, Thrall too finding his release deep inside her, hand palming her little bump and growling her name roughly.

 

Asch catches her breath, laughing at his hands, cupping her belly "Erya says he will kick soon." Her hands cover his, the warmth comes off his fingers in waves, as if he's using magic to speak to their child. "He? How are you certain?" Asch squeezes their fingers together atop her belly, "men are born first in my family," she laughs brightly "and I would not be so big if it were a girl!" Thrall sits up slowly, resting on his opposites hand "you've never looked more beautiful." Asch giggles in his face, nuzzling her perky nose against his flat wide one, "will you say that when I'm bloated, waddling about and heavy as an Oxen?" Thrall was looking forward to seeing it, his mighty priest shuffling around Orgrimmar, barking orders and commanding his men, all the while waiting for her to burst.

 

He'd never tell her that.

 

"I will say you're the most alluring woman I've fortune to sleep next too, I'll tell you Elune herself is in your image, that you-" Asch hushed him with a single finger to his lips and a bashful laugh, "enough you flatterer!" Thrall kisses her finger, "hmm, you're so pretty, carrying my pups." Asch's brow arched and a fine blush carried over her nose and flamed along her ears "my clan is rebuilding itself inside your womb." Asch clamped a hand against his mouth this time, shaking her head and squeaking from embarrassment "stop that." Thrall hugged her naked body to him and chuckled warmly, the feel of her perky nipples pressing into his broad chest. "What? Stop saying that I wish to keep you like this? Pregnant and full?"

 

 

Asch's face soured, "you just want to keep me here, safe at home where danger can only knock at the door!" Thrall shook his head, keeping her tight to him, careful of her growing belly "no my love you'll be in the thick of it, right by my side." Asch seemed skeptical of this, Nightelf men keep their women home, their own careers set to the sidelines, sometimes never to be picked up again. Asch was too strong to be a mother only.

 

"You would..?" Thrall nods simply at this, "your place is with me." In Orc culture woman aren't left to stay at home, they stay by their husbands, no matter where that is, be it battle or in camp. They believe that you stay where it's the strongest, and Thrall was one of the most powerful. Asch and his unborn child would stay right next to him, of course, when she became too full then Thrall would keep to his duties away from the battles, keep his wife safe, and then the baby they will have.

 

 

"Warchief?" Asch froze, his limp cock felt her body tighten, but there was no arousal, with a wet slap, he slipped out of her and tugged his pants on, barley tying them to hide his indecency. Thrall looks back to find Asch pulling his shirt on, it was far to big, but it was the only thing close to her, she got up as well, the long undershirt touched her mid thigh, well hiding her bump. "My love?" Thrall says, Asch tilts her head, hands messing with her hair, "your leg?"

 

Asch peers down, running slowly down her inner thigh, close to passing her knee was a fine trail of his cum, oozing out of her opening. "Oh," her dainty finger wipe and rub the fluid into her skin, another bout of arousal tingles up his spine, but he shakes it free and answers his guards call.

 

"Yes?" The guard held out a scroll, a respectful bow to both he and Asch, who stood inches behind him. "This is no seal I recognize..." The curious hue green wax pressed perfectly in the middle, a deer set of antlers as the image. Asch poked up over his shoulder, than a delighted squeal erupted from her lips, quickly stealing away the rolled parchment. "What?" Thrall says confused, his excited wife bouncing in front of him while pulling the letter open. "Daddy!" Thrall was taken back by her childish squeaking, his undershirt spun dangerously high, almost exposing her to the watching guard, who viewed the skeptical with the same confusion.

 

"Daddy wrote! He wants to meet you!" Her eyes were shining so bright as she looked up at him, piecing together her outburst, then blinking in realization. Her father wanted an audience with him, for what Thrall was sure to be bad. He never asked for her hand, hardly got the permission, now he was meeting Rolius Greendeer, a man he had gravely slighted by elvish customs.

Notes:

EDITED
Nov 20, 2017

Chapter 3: Thrall dabbles 2

Summary:

Thrall/Original female nightelf

Chapter Text

Her home was warm, much like Orgrimmar, vast and colored purple, the Orc felt out of place amidst the lavish purples, he wounded if Asch feels the same about Orgrimmar. His black armor certainly looked out of place beside his lightly dressed wife, her simple dress did nothing to hide her growing stomach, rather accented its growth with a blooms pink. Thrall had pleaded with her, hoping she would hide it, but the Nightelf shook her head firmly, stole his hand and pressed it to the bump, asking if he truly wanted to hide it.

Thrall wanted everyone to know his mate was full and bred, her beautiful skin grew a glow and her breasts swelled, her father would not be happy.

Rolious lived in the temple, a commander to Tyrande and her own mate, Malfiron. Thrall would likely meet the Monarchs again this trip, since they had a close nit connection to her family.


Thrall could see from glades two figures standing by the temple, one tall and wide shouldered, Asch squeezed his hand, Rolious was dressed in black and silver armor, the white tree sigil carved into his breastplate. A woman as tall as Asch stood at his side, holding his arm and hand to her, she had the palest hair and yellow eyes.

"Mama! Papa!" Asch tugged Thrall toward them, Asch's mother was the first to reach them, picking up her shirts and darting to them "by Elune my darling girl" she had a calming voice, a motherly one Asch embraced her mother and Thrall wearily watched her father approach with slow, deliberate steps. "Daddy!" A smile crossed the elder elven face as his daughter pounced toward him "careful my love" Thrall regrets his words as soon as the silver eyes of Rolious were on him.

Asch was in his arms, looking up at her father with enchantment, her mother stood close to him, a smile wide along her pretty face "Phara" she turns to him, eyes critical for a moment, then bright and full "you are quite the young man, Warchief" she sounds teasing, Thrall draws away from his wife and looks at the older woman, she, like many of his wife's race did not look aged in any way, there were no lines along her cheeks nor were there bags under her glowing, blank eyes.

"It's an honor to meet you" Thrall bent in respect, Phara snorts, so much was alike between mother and daughter it was charming, "my how gallant, bowing for a lady. Asch always wanted a knight. I thought she would choose one of those dreadful humans!" Her laughter was loud, sweet to the ears and endearing "thank goodness she picked someone sensible to get her pregnant, Rolious! Stop doting upon your daughter and meet this fine man" she had the firmness of his wife, the wild look in her eyes and the disregard for power, Asch's mother could be no other woman reassuringly.

Rolious was a trusted companion to Tyrande, he looked every bit the part, his set sliver eyes and purple skin, long braided purple hair. Color as fine as the trees above them. "Warchief you say Phara? My city guard is worthless" his wife rolls her eyes, smacking his plate with a clack "you called them off, don't pretend you hate him." Thrall swallows hard, blinking slowly as Rolious' full attention is directed to him "I find out only days ago my baby girl is married to an Orc, their leader of all people and not only has that shaken her career, but she's expecting child as well" he pauses for a long while assessing the Warchief up and down with narrowed eyes and a pinched brow.


"I do hope you invite us too see our grandchild's birth, Warchief or I'll have to storm the city myself"




Xxx

 



Asch felt bloated, moving was almost impossible without the help of someone, but being in a camp it meant no comfort, Thrall was mulling over battle plans at the head of the table, with Vol'jin preparing for a defense for Slivermoon, her insides clamped and brought her pain, but she knew it was nothing but pre pains, little Andis kicking all the while.

"We have too many injured" a commander Asch didn't know the name of says, he gets her attention "I am the grand healer, I will heal them!" Thrall swung around "no, you are to close to the birth" Asch scowls at him, forcing herself up and bracing her hand onto the thick table, his hands and a personal guards came close to grabbing her, as if she was going to fall "my love..." He chides, trying to reason with her. Asch couldn't even see her feet, but she waddled away from them, "I will heal them. Stay here and plan your war."

 


Xxx

 



Asch huffs, holding onto her staff, the Iron Horde beating on her shield as she stood in the middle, "ah- hah stay in a little longer darling" Asch cups her belly, holding her ground, the warriors fight around her, creating more injured and dead. "Asch!" Thrall was on the opposite side of the golden shield, she cracked it open wide enough for him. Her husband was covered in blood and his hammer was filthy "you're in labor!" Sweat dribbles down her face as a contraction hits her, the shield rippling "we can't leave them!' She screams in pain, clutching the bottom of her belly, Thrall is holding her up, hand covering her to keep the spell from breaking "you can't stay here, it's too much for you and the baby! We have to leave!"  Asch shakes her head violently hair whipping about her in a rush "I have to save them!"


"You have to save our child!" Thrall booms angrily at her, Asch cowers, never hearing his might directed toward her, tears streaming down her face.

Suddenly his face softens, realizing he snapped at her, "please my love, think of our son. Come back with me, my men can stop the attack no more will die" Asch's fierce protectiveness for life he admired, at times she forgets that not everything can be saved, though she tries her hardest and it's one of the most admirable qualities she has.

Asch is torn, her people lie at her feet, gasping for breath and her legs weaken further, Thrall the only thing keeping her steady and the spell active, all her weight is resting in his capable arms "please we have to save them-" her plea is cut from pain, a broken noise escaping her dried lips, "I will Asch I promise" her body shakes, wheezing in pain, "let me take you away from here" Asch finally nods her head and Thrall doesn't waste a second scooping her up in his arms.


"Form up the shield is dropping" the Warchief comes out like a raging bull, "you" an Orc fighter comes to his aid without a second thought "run ahead and tell Lor'themar my wife's in labor" the brown Orc takes off from the battle, Thrall following by half the speed, Asch breathing heavily in his arms.

The pain continues to throb and spark down her spine, she tries distracting herself by counting her husbands thumping footsteps as they advance on the castle, Thrall skids to a stop, jostling Asch just enough to spike pain again "inside quickly Warchief" a city guard urges them to the door "find a midwife!" He barks, the guard recoils "citizens were evacuated to under city Warchief..." Thrall snarls at the blood elf, "a healer the-" "it's to late for that!" Asch cries out "get us to a room" the guard nodded quickly, armor clinking as he moves to direct them to an empty room.

"You expect me to deliver our child?" Thrall does nothing to hide his panic, he was himself a healer, it does often fall upon healers to assist with the birth, but never has he. Thrall was a warrior. Asch's grip on his shoulder is white knuckled, but hardly painful to him "you'll have too!" Asch buries her head into his armor and screeches, curling in pain, it was happening now and Thrall had no time to wait or worry now.

The guard finds them a dusty old study, and leaves them quickly, promising to inform Lor'themar. Thrall sets Asch on the floor, and she bends, doubled over from pain, under her dress he can see the baby crowning already "push Asch!" His wife's nails claw at the floor, the awful sound of her agonizing scream rips through his ears and between his hands a weight drops, squalling.

 Carefully he pulls the baby away, finally seeing the purple skin and twitching fingers, his breath escapes in a single gasp "he's here Asch" Thrall says in awe, his wife is panting, short happy bursts of laughter coming out, Andis looked like his mother far more then he did his father, his skin was a lavish purple, his face was plump, but Thrall knew he had his face. He was little, like most Orc babies, he would shape and grow in a lithe and wiry Nightelf, save for the long ears, Andis had his fathers tall, sky pointing ears.

Thrall slid over to his wife and grabbed the train of her cloak, pulling it around Andis as he cooed and hiccuped, his eyes opened as his mother cradled him, the same shade of blue his father had, expect they were glowing beyond his pupil, his little chubby fingers touched Asch's jaw, feeling his mother skin, becoming accustom to it.

Orc children must bond with their mothers, it was crucial in Thrall's culture, fathers had it easier, scenting and seeing created a bond, if Asch didn't connect with Andis he would refuse to eat from her and hate her touch. Some mothers suffered this and watched their children wither away, or be forced to witness them bonding with another woman.

"Hi there" Asch whispers, Andis squeaks, fingers curling into fists and waving in the air, making her laugh and coo, Thrall chuckles deeply at his sons bright smile, "he has your hair" she says, nose rubbing the soft tuft of black hair "there has never been a Nightelf with black hair" his finger strokes along Andis' soft flesh, wiggling his finger by his ear, making him giggle cutely "neither an Orc with purple skin" suddenly his face scrunches and he growls, Asch's head tilts up in loud, full laughter.

"By Elune he's your son alright"


Thrall can't help but smile proudly.

 



Xxx

 



Asch stalks toward Gul'dan, a furious snarl escaping her "give me my son, Gul'dan!" Andis was crying loudly, wailing and screaming, Thrall was captured behind a barrier of purple magic, helpless to watch his family.

The Orc laughs, waving the little bundle around in the air "this half breed has kings blood. I think not. Traitor" Gul'dan sneers, punching the word at her, like it was suppose to wound. Asch squared her shoulders "I will kill you Gul'dan. Put him down and fight me" she hisses, teeth clinched, thrall is banging on his cage, yelling at her to stop, begging her to not. "I invoke the right! Fight me you coward!" Gul'dan sets his face into a frown, glaring thickly at her.


"As you wish"

 



Xxx

 



Asch surges with power, the holy light consuming her body, Gul'dan held between pillars of light. The Nightelf's whole body is covered in magic, coloring her skin with rich gold, a pair of mighty wings stretch behind her, shaped like a angel.

Asch lets out a powerful whistle, Thrall watches as the mouth of the cave parts for his companion, Snowsong, the wolf comes to her command, batting blinded eyes toward his enthrall wife "to safety!" She commands in Orcish, jerking her head toward heir son, balling in rubble, Snowsong darts toward him, picking him up in her giant maw like a pup and leaving without a glance toward either parent.

"You'll die for this! You little welp-"

"Silence!" Asch's voice echoed like a god, condemning and powerful, "you've nothing!" Asch doesn't waste a moment and races toward him, wings spread like she was going to fly, between her hands spawn two swords, gleaming with gold dust and oozing with unspeakable power.

Asch crosses her arm across the other and darts to Gul'dan, finally slashing with a grunt and Thrall watches the unspeakable terror drain out of Gul'dan and the lifeless body slumps, miserably looking up at his wife, now covered in blood.

Gul'dan's head slips off his shoulder, thumping wetly to her feet and the magic chasing Thrall bursts, smoke threaded the air like incenses, evaporating clean and disappearing into the cave. "Asch!" His wife stumbles, wings shearing and her eyes fade, he catches her before she fall, the magic persisting around her.

Asch coughs in his arms, "I'll need another staff" Thrall smiles "I see where the power of kings came from" Asch giggles, cupping his cheek in her golden hand, the magic was burning so hot within her body.
"Power of gods, terrible burden. Take me to our son" Thrall nods, picking her up and holding her tight "will this last?" She was beautiful like this, bathed in light, symbols dancing around her head like a crown.

Asch nods "until I contain it, my power will not drain easily" it was immense, had she used this against Deathwing? Even only fraction? Where had it come from?

Thrall must have showed his curiosity, because his wife humbly laughs "later, my love all will be clear when we are safe home" her face brakes into thoughtful smile "Vol'jin must be stir crazed sitting on that lump of stone" the light doesn't hurt his eyes as they leave the cave.

"I suspect so."

The Alliance King was the first to approach "gods Asch your..." He didn't have to words, he just gawked at her, most in his force did as well "mhmm, Varian, is my son safe?" The King snapped out of it, blinking dumbly "yes... Your beasts have been snapping at everyone" he glances over at the wide space, Silver and Snowsong wrapped in a circle, their heads hiding between their tight space, Thrall snorts, walking to them with Asch giggling at the disapproving look of the King.

"Snowsong! Sliver!" The great wolf snaps ups, barking at Thrall's call, her tongue dangling between her glinting teeth, Sliver is lazily licking his lips, nose flaring at their scent. Between the two, Andis is cooing, fists of each pets fur in his hands, neither seem to mind.

Sliver laps at Snowsongs face, then runs his cheek into the babbling baby, squeaking as his mother comes into his view "oh little one" Thrall drops her onto her feet and Silver moves his head so she can squeeze between their bodies, Asch cradles Andis to her breast, golden skin washing over him, light reflecting off his purple skin like a dew glow.

Thrall slumps into the harsh ground next to his wolfs head, her eager tongue lapping at his dirty skin, he chuckles, rubbing the wolfs ear "thank you friend" Snowsong sniffles his palm, licking into the crease of his fingers.

Andis babbles to his mother, giggling as she kisses his cheeks, forehead and chubby hands "my sweet little light" her Orcish was beautiful, his son coos, hands grabbing at her long sliver hair pulling it and waving it around like a toy "he wasn't hurt, thank Elune" she tells him, relief flooding her features, Thrall was too, Gul'dan could've done sometching terrible before they got there. Andis was safe between his mothers arms, surrounded by great beasts and his father, ready at the drop of a pin.

The sound of thudding feet shook Thrall out of his tranquility, Varian was glowering down at them, holding the thick of Gul'dan hair in his fist, "it's over?" Asch turns in the tight space, legs curled into Silver "yes, the army still stands, but with no leader, it should be simple to wipe them" he nods, glancing at Thrall, then eyeing Snowsong with the same disdain "Stormwind thanks you, Lady Greendeer" Asch rolls her eyes, eyebrow arched in question "since when do you call me that, Varian?"

The King didn't answer, she sighs, getting up swiftly and moving out of the circle their beasts created around Andis, Thrall watching her curiously.

"You're my best friend, Varian. We don't have to fight like this" his gaze was strained, between scowling and keeping a neutral facade "I wish we didn't have too" he finally bites out, glaring at their feet "the fighting is over, our people are tired. Horde and Alliance, Varian. We don't have to  divide ourselves like this anymore" Asch turns to her husband, prompting him to take Andis, he does so quickly, nestling him into the soft part of his arm, Snowsong rests her nose against his forearm, lapping at the bottom of Andis' wrap.

"We won't ever get along, Horde of Alliance, but we can certainly stop fighting. I belong to my life, my choices and my husband. But the Alliance are my people, as are the Horde. I care for every single one of them. All people, Varian. I don't want to see my people die anymore then you wish your Alliance." Varian face was twisted in pain, listening to her words and regretting his own most likely. "We won't see our two factions get along in this lifetime, but we can start, so our children can. Don't you think one unit, one people, deserve it? Don't you see what we can do together? Can't we try and get along?" Thrall licks his lips, listening intently to Asch, rubbing tiny circles into Andis' belly, soothing him asleep as Snowsong breathes warmth into his tiny feet with gusting breaths. Sliver lays his head on Thrall's stretched let, eyes closed and relaxed.

Varian looks back at the troops, Horde and Alliance mixed into each other and nervously getting along with fixing the wounded, an Alliance guard weaving a bandage along an Orc's massive leg gives him pause for thought. "This won't be easy, you know. People will not like it, set in their ways, what can we do when they revolt?" Asch touches his arm, squeezing the flesh as best she could under his thick played armour "we lead, we do the best we can, change never comes easy, yes people will fight, among themselves, with their leaders" a tiny sigh, she looks back at Andis, dozing peacefully "if I believed it was so black and white I wouldn't be a mother. I wouldn't be a leader. I wouldn't married the man I have." Thrall shares her smile, Asch reaches for his hand and his gives it, extending toward her and holding the golden end fingers between his.

"I want to see Humans and Trolls, Tauren and Draenei all loving each other. I want to see or people free to roam where they wish, without threat of death and capture, war and torture. It started with Thrall and I. It can continue with us, as leaders, promising their people no more bloodshed and feud" Varian is slient, staring at Andis and blinking slowly, his lips tight in a line.

"Alright Asch" he said quietly "I'm with you, wherever this takes us. Dammit I'm with you..." He pauses, nose scrunched and brow furrowed "it'll take some very diplomatic underhanded work, but I'm sure you can convince the rest of the leaders to agree with you. It'll start in Stormwind any Horde wishing to enter will be gifted safe passage, any Alliance threatening them will be treated as an enemy of the new rule" Asch erupts in joy, squeezing Thrall's hand tightly, the golden magic threading along his forearm and up his neck.

 



Xxx

 



Thrall stares at the little purple halfing, his mate holding his head while he suckled her breast, the night was quiet, cold and their beasts stayed close to the dying fire, soon to join them in bed, draped over their feet like the spoiled creatures they were. Andis' ears were too big for his head, but he knew that all Nightelves were like that at birth, their son was no exception. He wasn't older then a month, so much had happened it felt longer. Andis' beautiful mother had vanquished Gul'dan, his armies were succumbing to the force that was the Horde and Alliance.

Asch curls into the soft furs, her sliver eyes staring tiredly down at their son, smiling at his eager suckling, Thrall drifts forward, brushing her legs with his hand, feeling the fur under the tips of his fingers, "he has me exhausted" she tells him fondly, blinking sleepily "Orc children need to be fed far more often then Elven babies, Thrall tilts his head "I thought the nurse looked after him?" Asch scowls, eyes settling on the fireplace "she was feeding him blood, it made him sick. She thought it would make him strong" ah, Thrall thinks, realizing what had her so tired, she's been looking after him all day.

"It's suppose too, but he is no full Orc, it will hurt his stomach" elves do not feed their children blood, Andis was proving to be more of his mother everyday. Asch hums at this, softly petting his hair, his little face pulls away and a dribble of milk trails down his chin before Asch whips it with her thumb, he was smiling at her "sleepy?" She coos, a little yawn escapes his lips and Thrall chuckles as Asch gathering him in blankets to rest him in the bed close to them.

"Snowsong" she beckons, the white wolf springs up, claws ticking against the stone floor "protect Andis" Snowsong yips, nose bobbing as Asch's fingers run through the thick mane. Snowsong rests herself around the crib, curling like a snake as Asch puts him to bed, Sliver moves over to them and plops down, grunting.

Thrall gathers Asch when she gets close, pulling her into his lap and nuzzling her supple skin "my love the war is over" Asch nods into his thick hair, sighing intently as he runs her lower back "it is" she confirms, "will you give me another son?" His blatant question is met with stiffness, the reaction did not shock him.

"But this one is barely a month" Thrall nods into her flesh, kissing it lightly "you were beautiful carrying him" Asch swats his shoulder, huffing over his hair "I was insatiable, always wanton" Thrall hides his grin in her flushed chest, but she can feel it "Nightelves have litters themselves, give me a litter, pretty wife" her heart is hammering in her chest, Thrall knows he'll get what he wishes, because she wishes the same.

 


Xxx

 



Asch stayed, looking into the bazaar with angered eyes, their son was safe asleep by the beasts, curled by the fire. The counsel with Tryande had gone well, her blood agreed peace, the Dwarfs had snarled, calling her Thrall's whore, a pretend queen and traitor. She had not spoke, even as they insulted her.

They called Thrall a slave and she told them to get out, even striking fear into the little dwarf King.

Now she was glaring into the crackling fire, brooding and thinking to much, Thrall clears his throat. "I was, you know this. It does not wound me, their pitiful words cannot strike me" Asch's brow tightens, "they shouldn't have said it" he agrees with a nod "no, but you knew this wouldn't be easy, riots and revolts, the Dwarves are doing as they always have." Asch's race was a peace loving kind, they accepted war and always fought, Tyrande was kind and ruthless, but had brokered for the peace Asch wanted so badly for each side.

Her eyes fell upon nothing, staring at the floor, a carpet of fur which the beasts lay upon, their son dozing happily, she glanced at them, the tips of his purple ears sprouting behind Snowsong, Thrall almost laughed, looking at the tall ears. Now wasn't a time for it though, his wife was miserable. She knew of his past, how difficult it was for him, what the humans had done. She didn't like it, not exclusively because it was done to him, but because it was being done at all. Asch and Thrall over the past months had raided Iron Horde camps, first the biggest, ones that threatened to rebuild the broken rule, they took the leaders, killed the men and gave the camps to refuges, ones who lost their homes in massive scales, they became neutral cities for both sides.

The leaders were broken easily, Asch did not partake in this, Vol'jin said they would get nothing by asking, Asch excepted this fact after she stubbornly tried too do just that. One, Ug'kulo had spat in her face and called her a bent over whore. Thrall had taken pleasure in destroying him.

Once the larger camps were taken out and made into cities, they focused on smaller camps, one had bothered Asch and if Thrall had known before hand, he would not have allowed Asch to come. Gul'dan had a slave encampment, Asch couldn't heal their drained bodies, she cried all night over the women and children that were too far gone to heal. Many more were found just like that, but even as Thrall insisted she say home, she went. Looking upon all their faces and doing what ever she could, kissing their head and promising it was alright. Asch was struck by slavery, hating it deeply, even more since her husband was victim to it.

Thrall felt deeply cared for, her iron will and stubborn attitude about slavery made him think she would abolish it herself. Thrall was he so moved by the things she did, the utter devotion she had for her people, her child, her husband. He could not even begin to imagine a person more inclined and self sacrificing then his wife. She had no prior judgement of people when she met them, only assuming they were as kind as her, but faintly, growing more so everyday, Thrall knew he'd never meet anyone as kind as her. There was no better mother for his children.

Though, she wasn't unwise, she knew when something looked dangerous. She did not assume them evil, but knew when paths didn't meet the same way. Asch did not think Gul'dan evil, for all he had done, to her and to her son. She did not think him evil. Asch told Thrall this, saying the Orc thought himself right, that his way was right, in his mind he was. That what he was doing was right, Asch knew this, accepted that he thought himself right. She did not judge him, but certainly knew he was dangerous. The Warchiefs wife was cunning and clever, hardly naive. Just hopeful that her same kindest would be met equally, but she knew when it wouldn't and was careful.

"We are young" Thrall tells her, "too young to worry so harshly. Come, sit with me, bring our son and help me write to your cities" though they were the neutral cities they liberated, the people thought Asch their leader, even if they weren't suppose too, council of Man, Orc, Nightelf, many from each race were put into charge, equal and for their cities. Asch was still spoken to as their leader, sent letters regarding the city and its people, letters that the council shouldn't be sending, Asch for all she had done wasn't considered a neutral party. She was Alliance, just as much as Varian was, Talon commendation included.

She wasn't allowed to have a say in the cities developments, yet they came in daily anyway, much to Asch's worry and Thrall's amusement

It was the worst kept secret in all of Azeroth. Thrall had said they should just grant her the neutrality and let her rule her cities, no small amount of joking on his part, though Varian had laughed.

When Thrall was found serious in this Varian said he couldn't have that, she was the forefront of his argument, the Dwarves had yet to side with the agreement, and she was the only thing keeping them from war, she as Alliance. Thrall rolled his eyes at this, because, Asch was neither sided as it was, helping Stormwind in affairs as much as Orgrimmar. Though Asch had said if it ever came to it, she would side with her husband. Whichever way that may lead. Varian said if it should ever come to that, he would hope it was the same side as himself.

Asch told him in the night they thought war was upon them, when Dwarves had called for banner-men, all Alliance included, that she would stand with the Horde and hold their colors, because she followed her husband. And he had a side. Asch would've be branded a traitor and the opposite of what she wanted would've occurred, Varian would be forced to answer the call, he was the only reason they knew about it, a message was sent from Khadgar's portal, one that sprang at them, flinging the parchment, frightening Andis into a sleepless night.

Thankful the King of Stromwind calmed the Dwarf down, the threat was gone and Asch's peace plans were still safely together.

His wife looks at him, after so long together he could divulge anything by simply looking at her, angry yes, tired hardly and anxious. Thrall knew she needed to do something with her hands, focus on a simple task and cradle her son to her breast, Andis had amazing power over his mothers moods, he could make her happy with ease, a quality that came right from his father. Thrall had little to no trouble getting her to move from her spot, their son cooed brightly as she plucked him from Snowsong's hide, making her way and sitting close to Thrall, he smiles at her and just like that, she smiles back.

"He is very big" Asch says, letting Andis grope her hair, Thrall glances at his chubby arms, grunting fondly "aye, that he is. He'll walk soon" Asch gave him a winded look "he will not. He's only half Orc darling" Thrall paused his reading, Khadgar had sent a congratulations to them concerning Andis, but it could wait the moment it took for him to stare at the squeaking babe "he will, strong little legs kicked your womb, kept you awake. He will waddle and annoy our beasts soon. I can see it" Asch giggles, looking over at the snoring pets, huddled into each other, a lump of shaggy fur molding into sleek.

"They won't let him stray to far, poor things. They'll never sleep if he's about" Thrall laughs, dipping the feather into parchment, Andis claps his little hands into the wood table, making little thumps and amusing himself, Asch smiling and kissing his head, eyes watching her husband with love.
"You're Archmage sends another gift, I am thanking him" Asch rest her chin atop Andis head gently, his face scrunches and he tries looking at her with big eyes, confused. "Another? What does he send this time?"

Thrall peers over at the artfully constructed crib Khadgar had made from oak wood, a bit of magic at its head, creating a starry turnstile for Andis to giggle at. "This time it's a soft stone, for his growing teeth" Asch plucks the bag, it was silk and the strings were colored gold, she opens the bag and fiddles with one of the grayish stones, it was hard enough to sate his teething, but soft enough it wouldn't harm his gums.

"Thoughtful, I should send him a master Orc Mage book from the library. He'd love that" Thrall nods in agreement. Khadgar was a friend in their time of need, often working with Thrall, knowing it be for the better of their realm. "Varian sends a blanket, a lion hide, with wolf fur on the inside" he grabs it as he speaks, carefully handing it to Asch, Andis blinking at the new fabric wondrously "sweet of him as well" she plucks the letter, laughing as she read "for being pompous and forgetting you are my friend. I do hope you'll return to teach my son what it means to be like you. I wish him to only learn under the best. Varian. I had forgotten Andwin's lessons. I should host him here" Thrall knows of the pink human prince, never have they met.

Asch wouldn't risk leaving the city with Andis, not unless his father was in company, but with so much going on, it wasn't possible for him to leave on a trip to Stormwind. Andwin would have to come here, if he wished to learn his trade. Or find another to teach him.

"If he chooses to come it will certainly be interesting. You are the first Nightelf granted safe stay, but he will not be the first human" Asch scowls in thought, Thrall never liked seeing her scrunch her pretty face like that.

"Has Lady Proudmoore sent any gifts for our son? Our wedding?" Since the war was over it was a time for the worlds leaders, now Alliance included to send marital and baby gifts, a show of respect and happiness to Thrall and his wife. Everyone important and then a few extra had sent things along, some friends Thrall had almost forgotten about had sent meaningful gifts of fur and wine, rattles and talisman. Jania Proudmoore was not one of them. Of course, Thrall knew why. He has history with the little human, almost courting her and then not, knowing better of their situation. Too the ruler of Thraramore, it looked quite damming that he had married a Nightelf, gave her a baby and loved her even though she was suppose to be an enemy.

Asch was not petty, but it was clear Jania was acting as such, Nightelven culture dictates if those who do not celebrate with you on a happy occasion, wish to insult you. Not celebrating a marriage or a brith was unforgivable. Even her harsh father had sent happy wishes, asking for more grandchildren and too see Andis, it was the right thing for him to do. Everyone celebrates, Thrall's own people cheered for their Warchief, Andis' birth now a holiday, which would surely be a spectacular affair in Orgrimmar.

"She is not happy with me" Asch glares at the fine wood of the table, fingers rubbing circles into Andis' little palms, "is it because she loved you and you did not?" Thrall could have loved her, did in a way, but before when he entrained the idea, it would've gone terribly wrong. Jania would be an enemy to her own crown, branded as a traitor and stripped of her home. Thrall had much to offer, but nothing she needed. Janis needed books, he had tools of war, the Mage needed freedom, she would be caged. Thrall could not give her the life she craved, Jania may have loved him, but she would hate him as she does now, scornful of him for setting her career ablaze.


Asch had always been on the line, never crossing either side, she could steadily be what she wanted, her world was wide, she could help anyone, Jania was of Kirin Tor, a Mage of arcane, Mages always sought power. Jania, if she had married Thrall, would be tied to more duties, and have less freedom. It was only because Asch was so careful about her line that Thrall could be with her fully, that Thrall himself was curious companions of Varian after Deathwing had rattled the world, suddenly two sides needed each other for survival. Asch was his mate, his wife and the mother of his beautiful son. Jania's scorn and pettiness would not brother him, maybe once, but not ever now.

"I think, she loved the idea of being with me. If it were true, she would have left, or been unhappy" Thrall says, reaching for Andis and touching his cheek, the baby squalls at the attention, reaching to grope his fathers meaty green finger, Thrall allows him to do so, looking at his wife's face, a curious gleam in her eyes " I think, she is angry with you because she wanted this life. But not really, Jania wouldn't ever love this life, if she had it" Thrall knew this well, Asch was softening her anger, knowing him to be right, slight forgotten easily, as usual for her. Asch hardly held a grudge, even if a custom was broken.

Chapter 4: Thrall dabbles 3

Summary:

Thrall/Original female nightelf

Chapter Text

Asch lay breathless, head dipping back, hoarse crys pass her lips as Thrall licks mercilessly between her thighs. "Go'el! Ha please!" She squirms at the hot breath that passes over her shivering body, he was laughing at her neediness, squeezing the flesh of her thighs, his teasing over.

"Go'el!"


Asch looked pretty standing regal, like her place was in a war room, conducting the little men and ordering more powerful people to do her bidding, Asch also looked pretty as a mother, curled by the fire and paying with their son, little Andis giggling happily while the beasts yipped and nibble his feet.


But by far, the prettiest Thrall has seen his wife was when she was on her knees, cock deep Dow her throat, looking at him with sinful eyes.

Thrall cradles her cheek, purring low as she sucks and swirls her tongue with enthusiasm, Thrall comes on her mouth, it dribbles on her chin and he kisses her eagerly, making her giggle.

 

Xxx

Thrall knew she was pregnant before his wife did, like the first time. Asch was moody with most people, she didn't like eating much and she snapped anyone who didn't say yes my lady when she told them something. It was much like before and Thrall would not be surprised if they were blessed with another son. Women were more docile and kind of pregnant with girls, Asch was snippy and annoyed, they would have a son and Thrall was excited for her to discover she was pregnant, he loved to dot on her.

Asch was reading at their war table, writing replies to her neutral cities. This was the less exciting part of ruling, but Thrall was fine with that, the time for war was past for now, there would be plenty, the Warcheif knew, never would he tell his peace campaigning wife, but war would be upon them. Now Thrall would enjoy his family. Love his children and live with he peace they have made.

Xxx

Gul'dan stood, snarling at Asch. Sneering in contempt "little elf" she was shocked, staring at him "h-how!" She cries, staring with baffled, dead eyes. Asch's face had sunken, her lips wrought in a terrified gaped. Thrall stood hunched behind her, glaring at Gul'dan with threatening bloodlust full eyes. Gul'dan wasn't paying him any attention though, rather occupied with taunting his wife with a dangerous smile


Xxx

Andis was waddling around, chasing after a butterfly that was bright orange, giggling "don't go to far little one!" Asch calls after in Orcish, watching him run in the valley of strength, weaving through guards who pretended not to notice and smile as he passes by.

"My lady" a guard says, nodding his head, Asch smiles at him "you healed me at the battle of Slivermoon" he tells her, a quirked lip "I would not have seen my family again if not for you" Asch's smile was bright, tears prickling her eyes "don't thank me, my job is to protect my people" Asch looks where Andis had been, now nowhere to be seen, her happiness was dashed, replaced with pure dread "Andis?!" The guard knew instantly what had happened "please allow me to help you" Asch waves him on, he follows the dirt path and Asch darts toward where she last saw him.

"Andis my darling come to mommy!"

Asch was terrified, the valley of strength was opening away from safety, away from Thrall and Asch was frantic, running without caring her dress was getting wrecked by red dirt.

A babies laughing caught her attention, she ran to it, there by the water was Andis, holding into the beak of a buzzard, a Troll, still by the water, looking at him.

Time stops for her, Andis loses his amusement for the bird and claps onto the Troll's leg "boo! You're boo!" He tells him, clapping his hands into the skin of his leg, Asch shivers staring at the Troll, his hair was thick, blue like his body and standing tall.

"Aye, I am blue, little one. You're purple. Never seen a purple Orc before" Andis tilts his head "mama says I'm spoosical" the Troll looks up where Asch is standing, then looks back at Andis "you're very special, and you're mama looks worried sick" he points toward Asch and Andis peers over with his big eyes. Then he smiles at her, his little feet pick up ad he races to her, Asch braces him, holding his head.

"Never seen a purple Orc" he repeats "I knew he was my Warchiefs. My sisters babes run away all the time" Asch heard Trolls speak common, it was rough, but when this one spoke Orcish he was smooth and clear.

"Thank you- I was..." He waves her off, smirking "I know you might've thought the worst. What with you're own people's wanting to kill you" he pauses long, looking at his bird, then back to her "you are my Warchief's woman. That little purple Orc is his son." He didn't say more, he bowed and his bird trailed away, he had a small smile on his face.

Asch felt more excepted then she had with her own blood people.


Xxx

Asch was heavily pregnant, sitting among the rare green in Orgrimmar, she looked at home, Andis was holding a peach, nibbling the soft flesh and enjoying the sun. Thrall looks at the ground, grant me your power, please Thrall asks the hard earth a simple thing, and a small, lush pink flower blossoms from the grass, Thrall plucks it with a gracious thank you.

"Asch" his voice was rough, like always. Asch looks up from Sliver, she had been picking burrs from his pelt, a good handful sitting on the plush grass next to her "oh, my love" Asch's pretty eyes sparkle as Thrall thread the flower behind her ear, Andis ogling his parents when curious blue eyes "mama look pretty" he says in rough elvish, Asch smiles at the purple halfing, a faint blush of colour running over the bridge of her nose.

Thrall eases down and pets the top of Silvers head, Snowsong sleeping beside him. His wife's companion snorts softly, tail flapping on the ground.

"Where did you get it, papa?" Andis asks with amazement, his father chuckles deeply, smiling at how he braced on his mothers leg, blinking owlishly at the flower. "I asked the earth to bloom one" Andis looks so baffled, "how?!" The child can switch between Orcish and Elvish easily as common tongue, Andis was a clever boy and would grow into a great Warchief. If he so chose. "I am a Shamen, we call upon the spirits of the world, ask for help. They answer, someday if you wish I will teach you how to hone the gifts."

Andis looks excited, "I can be like papa?" Asch giggles, pulling him to her lap, "of course, you are the first son of Thrall, you will become Warchief and lead our people" Andis puffed up and set his face, his cheeks were plump. "I will mama! I wanna be sawmen!" Asch laughs and kisses his fine hair, brushing it away from him face "Shamen little one, you will learn" Andis giggles excitedly.

Xxx


Garrosh was defeated, Thrall was quiet, staring off into forest, Asch worries quietly for him.

 


Xxx

Asch glares at the harsh table, across from her was the Alliance, Varian looking defeated and miserable.

"You're since banned from any Alliance capital, stripped of titles and will not be granted clemency" the Talon sat on the table, color milky and fading "there will be no treaty between Horde and Alliance" Varian agreed, Tryande agreed, but Grenn, the dwarfs, Gnomes and Draerei had not, the treaty was a failure.

Thrall sat tall beside his deflated wife, "we will always come to your aid Varian" a curt nod, Thrall continued "the cities we liberated will become Horde soil, any who wish to defect will be given time and freedom to choose, whether they be Alliance or Horde" the little dwarf king smacked his hand on the table "no Horde will be welcome in mah' city! Alliance born only!" Thrall sighs through his nose, brow dropping "any Alliance will be welcomed into Horde territory as a citizen if they so choose." The dwarf snorts and Varian bites at him, hushing his further comments.

Asch was about to stand, but Varian was first "keep the Talon, as a memory... I will send Khadgar to drop anything you have left in Stormwind" Asch doesn't speak and Thrall gives one last gracious thank you to him before urging Asch away from the table. She was weightless, like leaves in the wind, Thrall the force that moved her. "Asch-" "I failed" he quickly tuts "no you didn't, they did. You're people are welcome, all are welcome in Orgrimmar" he knew it wasn't what she wanted, but at least it was a fraction. Alliance would come, the people they freed were of all races and they would live in Orgrimmar, Asch would make sure they had homes in Azeroth if they wished.

"I wanted..." Thrall squeezes her shoulders, helping her onto Zeppelin "I know my love. Let us go to our room and see our sons" Andis and Kelgar would surly brighten her mood.

"I miss them" she whispers longing, Thrall quirks a smile "let us go-" "Thrall?" Asch spins to face him, blinking glowing eyes, her hair color was returning, a soft lavender emerging from the pale white "yes Asch?" Asch holds her thought, a crease erupting along her lovely skin "can I... I want..." Thrall lets her take the time to gather her thoughts, giving her his full attention.

"Give me another baby" Asch's soft hands skim up his arms "I need... They're growing so fast and I'm scared" Kelgar was born only months ago and Andis' birthday came and went, Orgrimmar celebrating the day with them, many flowers were given to the guards to give to Asch for Andis, many toys made of many things, metal, leather and straw, all beautiful and lovingly crafted. Thrall knew Asch was feeling what every mother felt when their babies get older, he chuckles lightly "they aren't going anywhere" he assures "they will live through the ages. Alexstrasza has assured us this. We are the protectors of the world. You will see your great, great, great grandchildren. We will protect this world through its ages."

Thrall kisses her forehead "I will give you as many children as you wish" Asch falls into his arms, gripping the plate of his armor with tight fingers "come my pretty elf, let us see our sons. When we return I shall give you more."


Andis was petting Snowsong as she dozed happily on the bed, Kelgar asleep by her belly, Andis had tall ears, far to big for his toddler body and Kelgar had his mothers ears, long passed his head and floppy like Asch's, he was snugly tucked behind Snow's tail, folding the fur in his little fingers. Thrall's second son looked more like him then Asch, the same green skin, tusks poking out of his bottom lip. Kelgar had hus mothers milky eyes, a hint if blue in them, his hair was what hers used to be, a deep purple, soon her hair would turn back and match. Kelgar would be bigger then Andis, not much taller, but wider and built more solid. Andis would grow like a Nightelf, maybe bigger then one and certainly stronger, but nothing like his little brother would.

"Mama" Andis whispers, "Kel sleeping shhh!" Thrall snorts at his son, smiling when Asch made a show of tiptoeing toward the bed "babies need sleep" she says "you need sleep too, baby" Andis frowns "I'm almost two! I'm not a baby! Kel is a baby!" Thrall comes to stand behind Asch, smirking at his sons logic "but you need sleep to become strong little Shamen" he says, grinning at Asch's thankful look. Andis ponders this "will Kel be a sawmen too?" Asch plucks Andis from the bed and holds him toward his father, Thrall hums "maybe little one. Maybe he will wish to be a priest" "like mama!" Andis cheers excitedly, Thrall nods "yes, like mama, but right now you both need to sleep" Thrall eases Kelgar out from under Snowsongs lavish tail and follows Asch to the side room their beds were placed "goodnight Andis, I love you" she says, kissing his cheek.


The little Orc snuggles into the furs, yawning "night night mama, papa I love you."


Xxx

15 years later

Asch glares as cross the table at the dwarf company and Varian.

Her children stand close to her with crossed arms and snarls, Thrall is silent and neutral.

"What had you coming to the horde for help?" Asch snaps, the dwarf King bares his teeth "we don't need you're help-" "yes we do!" Varian yells "blood of my blood" he pleads looking at her, Andis snorts, his hulking frame towering over the pink King "burnt that bridge when you didn't let her see grandpa" he drawls, flicking his black hair over his shoulder. Andis was handsome, his tall ears and flirtatious smile drew people to him. But he'd had found a pretty mate, Yeema, a petite Nightelf that barely reached his shoulders.

Yeema was glossy pink and and blue haired, bright and airy, obsessed with reading and magics, she wanted to be a kirin'tor mage one day.

Asch approved of her sons choice and was eager to celebrate a wedding one day, once he had the courage to ask.

"I couldn't... Asch you know this- they wouldn't allow it!" Asch narrows her eyes further, her father was killed by legion demons and buried in the grove of heroes, a royal ground for nobles and she wasn't allowed go to his funereal "Tyrande would have let me. She welcomes me home" Varian cringes, Kelgar snarls, his massive fist thumping into the table, spitting the wood in a dent "enough of this what do you want?!" Kelgar turned into a Druid, much the opposite of his elder brother, who became the Shaman like he always wanted. Kelgar was a massive Orc, smaller then his father, but bigger then Andis. He had pearly tusks and silver rings running down them, he was a lovely green and his hair was spiked up in a Mohawk, purple as his mothers.


Kelgar had a mate as well, Tylar, a Draenei adopted by a human family after the Iron Horde fall. Her family had been on of the thousands to side with Asch when it came to picking a side.

"You have the dragon life" he says, "we can still die, this power was not limitless, Varian" Asch claims, the king nods quickly "please the legion have overrun Stormwind, our people need help evacuating", Asch's third son, Reyis snorts "your people, not ours. Nor my mothers. What do you want from us? Our immortality is weak against blades and death" he was meeker then his siblings, just as tall as his mother and a priest like her

 

Xxx

Draenei Asch Au

Durotan hisses out as he looks at the other Orc "you brought a bed slave to the war counsel?" There was a moment where Thall thought was going to explode in rage and their plan would be blown up. Asch was coloring an angry shade and her lip was snarling, but she stayed silent, eyes ablaze. Thrall stands tall, curtly nodding "we have no room where I can put her, so she's stays with me." Durotan snorts, looking at his wife and sharing the same mocking expression "careful, Frostwolves keep no slave, but other clans do. Treat her like a wife is you want, but know it'll get you in trouble" Thrall sighs, he was already in trouble.


Asch exploded finally when they were alone in their cave "a bed slave?!" Thrall winces, "my love..." she points accusingly, snapping at him "no! Oh no. I am your wife! Not your fucking whore!" Thrall tries to touch her, but Asch whips away, anger ever clear "you are my wife. But they can't know that, we came here to right the wrongs of-" "I know what we came here to do! And how will we accomplish this now that they think I'm a whore?!" Thrall shrivels "Asch please we just have to pretend, we need them on our side" Asch looks sour, hateful and scorning.

"This is what my people were to yours. How can you just tell me to pretend" Thrall feels his heart weaken at her omission, the way her voice dropped, "because we have too. I was a slave too. I know all to well what it is like" Asch curls into herself, looking small atop their bed of furs. Her hands bury her face "even your own father..." Thrall falls to his knees, finally touching the soft skin of her legs "we will endure" Asch snorts angrily, smiling sadly "I shouldn't have to anymore" Thrall nods "I will never be able to right this-" Asch cups his face, bringing it up to look at her "I forgive you" Thrall cripples, sniffling and smiling through his tears.


"Why is the whore with you?" Snarls a nameless clan leader, Thrall peers at his wife worried, but resolves when he acts as she needed too, vowing her head and hiding her eyes. Thrall hated it, but it was necessary "so she isn't defiled while I'm away. She's mine as won't have her touched by any else but me" the Orc snorts, growling angrily and licking his unclean lips "fine she's pretty enough to look at. Don't let her get in way" Thrall nods curtly, looking back. Asch doesn't look at him, keeping her charade up.

Chapter 5: Finnik dabbles 2

Summary:

Original male orc/original female bloodelf

Chapter Text

Finnik was like a snapping crocodile when they approached the main house, all the guards shooting their glares and upturning their lip. Finnik made no time for it and simply wore the most fowl of faces Asch had never seen. Asch wanted to latch into his side and hold him, selfishly for her own benefit, but it wouldn't look proper at all and many of the servants lingering about would whisper lies to both her parents. Asch stood stark, ignoring how much she wished she wa home.


The real home, in Orgirmmar where Thrall and Thunders were. Where the red dirt was and their lovely apartments. The rough furs that smelt like her husband and the huge comfy bed that had wooden posts. The home where the only silk was whatever skimpy thing Asch decided to greet her husband in.

It was a dreadfully silent climb up the steps and even worse of a wait while they were being let him. Her father was mulling over papers as Asch shriveled inside, Finnik a stone behind her, chilly and hard. Her mother was tipping at a servant about cold tea. Her father peered up, uninterested and a little damming, as if he was already writing her off his will. "Cella, your daughter is here" he says looking back at his papers. Asch's mother instantly turns, "Asch, how we've missed you" it was a practiced statement, one Asch also heard her say many times. Asch smiles anyway, bowing lightly to her mother.

Cells blinks her eyes between the two of them, a little trick she used so she could openly stare at Finnik "dismissed" a low angered snort comes from behind Asch, jostling her hair and making her shiver "no- mama this is-" "I am her husband. Not her guard." Her fathers head shoot up again, squinting very harshly at the two "are you?" Asch knows he one the teasing end of yelling, his voice raised ever so slightly, his tone chipped.

"I am." Finnik never backed down from anything, Asch shouldn't have hoped that he would bend to her father, for the little sake of peace.

"Outrageous!" Her mother snips, clearing shocked and disgusted "Resis!" Cella barks, Asch's father eyes her mother, before curling his lip and a fowl "how long has this been going on?" Asch feels like a child again, standing on the edge of her fathers rug, getting scolded for being naughty. "Over a year" a very happy year and more, but Asch wasn't about to say that.


Her father looks shocked, the way his eyes pop a little at the information, he schools it quickly, masking his emotions to completely cold and neutral. As if Asch remembers him looking any other way.

"You've only thought to tell us now?" Resis pretended to feel insulted, but Asch knows he rather be spared this knowledge at all, but the notion of never seeing her parents, no matter how awful, was heartbreaking, even more she would never see her siblings. "We've only just been able too. Finnik is a clan leader, we are very busy" he makes a mock of looking impressed "a leader you say? It doesn't take much does it?" Finnik growls low, but doesn't say anything. "It takes much to have the ear of the Warchief. Thrall is great friends with us" now her father looks actually intrigued. Like all Bloodelves, power is intoxicating, no matter where is comes from.

It was quiet for sometime, her mother was fuming silently, no doubt snarling her lips at Finnik.

"Mhm" he finally grunts, shaking his notes "the guard outside will show you your rooms. I will see you at dinner." Asch knows that Finnik is seconds away from exploding, "actually, I want to sleep in my old bedroom, there should be enough room for both of us. Mama have the guards bring our things" her father scrunched his brow and her mother looks like she's waiting for him to say something, but he only waves his hand. Mothers face colors pink, a mixture of anger and annoyance surely, but she does as told.

Asch turns, looking at Finnik giving a smile smile, he darts his eyes down, then over her head and finally turns out the the open doors, Asch skips ahead of him, eager to see her old room again.

"Insufferable" he hisses, grumbling angrily, Asch let's him, in favor of looking around. No dust in sight, but everything was as she remembered, the blue silk sheets and curtains draped in sheer over the tall bed posts and canvas top, it was all white marble and cherry wood. Nothing like home, but beautiful craft.

The bath was just a stunning, the large marbled tub and the copper pipping. Asch couldn't wait to bathe in their again. That was one thing she requested made in their home, a very out of place black marbles tub, but Finnik let her have anything she wanted. Asch abused that heavily when it came to their bathroom. Her husband never complained about it once after they shared a rather ronchy bath that included candles and bubbles that overflowed.

"I hate them" he snarls, pulling off his armor. Asch sighs "I know, I'm sorry my love" Finnik softens, looking at her with a longing expression "come" his arms open, Asch giggles, launching herself into his hold, finally indulged in his absurd warmth. Finnik said it was the fire inside him, Asch didn't care what it was exactly, the magic or just natural body heat. It kept her feet warm at night. Asch would always be freezing, she would playfully shove her cold feet or hands at him and though, he'd wail and groan, Finnik would always make sure she was warm.

"Only a few days, then we can go home" she mumbles in the crook of his neck, nuzzling his touch beard "mhm I'll count the hours" his hands wander down her spine, hands completely shadowing her bottom, Asch huffs, squirming "we can't" Finnik ignores her, groaning as her
body wiggles against him "we can, you are my wife." Asch pushes his shoulders, arching away, only to further push herself into his wandering hands. "My parents-" "are not going to stop me from pleasing my pretty wife" his words send a shiver up her spine, one she knew he felt.


Asch's pretty figure was puttied between his fingers. Her shoes slipped off from standing on her toes, her dress was being hiked over her thighs. Asch let him tug the fabric, her skin prickled at the sudden breeze. Finnik prodded the pooled clump of her gown in her hands, silently asking her to take it with a dirty smirk. Asch did, holding it like a life line. Those clever fingers went right back to their place, thumbs snaking under her little panties. Finnik admired the soft silk, before wrenching it off and shoving her forward. A soft cry sprung out of her mount as she smacked into his flesh, Finnik hummed, squeezing her ass. The dress trapped between their bodies allowed Asch to move her hands, she steadied on his broad shoulders, squeezing the fine muscles.

"Up" he commands, prodding her. Asch gulps, doing as told, moving herself into his lap. Finnik made a pleased noise, grinning filthily as she spread her legs on either side of his hips. Asch felt his clever fingers work toward her cunt, rubbing the flesh with a small amount of roughness. Asch moans over his head, jerking into his touch. Finnik works his thick fingers, sliding it over the wet slit, the pink little lips shined and pulsed at his attentions. Finnik pressed on her opening, dipping his finger shallowly inside. Her cunt quivered, flexing around the digit. Before Asch could find pleasure, he teased away, grinning as she huffed quietly.

Finnik above all else, adored how easy it was to make his wife a mess. Bloodelves were sexual creatures by nature. Asch was a shy little thing, Finnik was still finding times, after all their couplings, Asch would be shamefully pink. Finnik's people didn't believe in modesty, they'd strip naked in front of anyone without a care. Asch didn't like a good many things, though. The women of her race were repressed, taught their pleasure wasn't important. Took Finnik nearly everything he had to rewrite her. Make her feel better about sex, feel like she mattered. Orcs were equals, their woman would not stand anything less.

It was quite backward, Bloodelves think themselves so advanced in everything, yet they shame their women out of powerful positions and make them meek and afraid. It was sickening. Finnik gave everything he had just to show his wife that she mattered. Asch was dignified, the position of power he gave to her was nothing small. Asch was the wife of a clan leader, at first she acted as though she was just a prize. Finnik will never forgot look of light in her eyes when one of his advisors dropped a stack of orders and complaints she had to deal with that day.

Still, things couldn't always be fixed so quickly as that. Asch was still rather shy about them. Finnik would push her, make her ask for things. It worked enough so far, she'd advance him and want things, she was open about it more each day. Another treasured memory he held dear was the day she asked to sit on his face. That was his favourite day.

Asch was rolling her hips into his teasing finger, panting in his ear. Finnik knew how frightened she was of her father, but he wouldn't go days without touching his wife, his mate. Finnik could compromise, he'd keep them quiet, smother their sounds and when they got home he'd amend it, make her wail and cry.

For now he was content to bury his fingers inside her wet heat, watching as she lost herself.

Asch came with a breathless cry, flinching into his shoulder, lips quivering against his neck. "Better?" He grins, gently removing his fingers. Asch gulps, nodding dumbly "love you" Finnik rumbles "I love you too"

Chapter 6: Garrosh dabbles 1

Summary:

Garrosh Hellscream/original female Draenei

*WARNING* Sexual slavery/Non-con

Chapter Text

Asch is dumped on the filthy, wet ground, surrounded by upturned mud, it was dry in places, few spots even had grass and one even had a tiny flower.

"A gift, Warchief" the orcs voice was nasty and dull, subdued in a way it sounded respectful. Asch looks up, defiantly so, at the three large orcs the dull one was addressing. The middle one was the largest, most commanding of the three, he must have been Warchief. His skin was reddish brown, eyes yellow as a feral jungle cat. His shoulders were massive and his head was straight, looking at the other Orc in company, not so much as glancing Asch's crumple form.

The others were guards, holding heavy swords and wearing plated armor, they were looking at her with a roaring hunger in their eyes.

"Where did you get this?" His voice was gruff, gravely and harsh. The Warchief finally glances down, Asch stares back, watching his amber yellow eyes wash over her with veil interest. "Raiding party on the alliance barracks. Velen's daughter" the interest roared to life in the Warchief's eyes "was she touched?" The Warchief looked pleased with whatever the Orc behind him confirmed. She was harmed, they had been very harsh with her, even though she'd been compliant to their wishes, knowing no amount of any force would get her out of this terrible reality.

"Bring her to my quarters"

The orcs had all but shoved her toward the apartments of the Warchief. They were vast and simple in nature, very fine furs lay everywhere. Asch was pushed inside, hooves clicking on the stone "a bath was made and clothes. Be quick" the orc slammed the door, locking it behind him. As if she'd try to escape. The shadow cast under the door was the guards, she wouldn't try her luck out that way. The balcony was a swift exit, a practical fall to her death, but then. She would never hope to see her father again. Without another option Asch went about her bath. The tub was huge, not build for her. It was warm and steaming, her skin turned a darker shade of blue as she scrubbed away the dust and filth.

What was left for her to wear was nothing short of exposing. It was silk and small, barely hiding the intimate parts of her body. Asch put it on regardless, then went about cleaning her mud caked hooves with her worn fingers. Her hair was cleaned, the soot and filth washed from her beautiful blank white hair.

When she was finishing the second hoof, the guard came in, snarling with his usually glaring eyes "up. Now." Asch pecked the dirt off her fingers and scampered to him as commanded, holding the little silks hiding her body tight. Asch tumbled down the steps as he pushed, catching herself before she ever fell. They didn't chain her, but they knew that they wouldn't have too. Asch felt helpless.

The came back to the main chamber, the massive Orc with the cat eyes took no modesty as he looks over her, vile sparks of hunger and lust dilating his pupils. "Sit" was all he said, eying the little plush cushion by his feet. Asch hurried up the steps, quicker then the guard behind her so she wouldn't be pushed.

As she settled, Asch felt like a displayed trophy. Asch clinched her thighs tight and folded her arms across her chest, staring at the floor while men moved about them, the Warchief making no sound as he undoubtedly watched.

This reminded her of her fathers courts. Although, she wasn't naked, or afraid for her life, but it was very much like it. She would sit with her father, listen to his people's needs. The Warchief Garrosh Hellscream was doing just the same, listening to his counsel. Peaking at Asch while she ignored him and stared at the floor.

"Mhm" Garrosh grunts, leaning over "enough, be gone."

"Come, pet" Asch shot up, tripping into his chair, Garrosh eyed her, but said nothing.

Xxx

Asch bent into the sheets, the furs matted with her tears, Garrosh didn't care. He snarls, bending her over harshly. Garrosh tugged her tail, holding it up and out of the way, it burnt, like he was ripping it off. His cock stretched her insides, forcing her open. Asch sobbed, her body reacted to him, her thighs dripped, covered in their juices. Garrosh huffed into her ear, growling like a beast. Orc's mating was rough and long. Velen had told her in place of her mother what making love was suppose to be. Told her that it was equal parts trust and care, there was no care here at all. Garrosh was forcing his way into her body, scarring it with his own. Velen said it was the most pleasant thing in the world, that men were to be gentle, that she should expect nothing short of perfect. None of this was perfect. This was nothing like her father promised her. It was dangerous and she was bleeding badly, her insides hurt, but he persisted, making use of her completely. Asch could only cry. 


Xxx

The days were became the same, Asch would sit, be pretty and look at the floor until he told her to get up and follow him. The Warchief would have his way and the day would end with him tucking her on the side of the bed he never used and slept.

Asch wasn't acknowledged by anyone, until today.

A guard grabbed her horn, tugged at her until she craned up to look at his foul face, Garrosh glances over, brow furrowed. Asch wasn't allowed to protest, she dare not voice her complaints. "Pretty mouth" the guard says, Garrosh hisses through his nose "drop her" the guard eyes him, clearly annoyed.

"Ain't sharing?" Asch bats at him, prying her horn away, backing into the Warchief's legs "no."


Asch felt the meat of his fat leg behind her, between the blades of her shoulders, feeling her horn there was tangled hair. Asch fixed it quickly and ignored the safe feeling she had pressed into the Warchief.


Xxx

"Why?" Asch was careful when speaking to him, but she had to know. Garrosh looks at her with puzzlement in his dark eyes "hmm?" "Why did you... stop him?" Neither of them forgot, Asch especially. The Warchief shrugs "I don't share" Asch knew nothing was off limits in his culture, they shared things, because that was the way. Asch didn't think she would be warmed by that, but she smiled lightly. At least she wouldn't be subjected to his guards.

Xxx


Asch struggled this time, pushing at his arm "no!" She shrieked, Garrosh roars, forcing her into the furs "w-wait! Please!" She begs, Garrosh halts, still squeezing her flesh "please what?" Asch shivers at his cruel tone. "I... I want to pleasure you like she did" this must have confused him because his grip went lax, then he erupts in laughter, mocking her "you are a meek little Draenei-" "let me try? Please!" If Asch was suppose to be his plaything, then that she would be. Garrosh had others, like the orc. He was easy on her, he let her roam the halls without guards. Asch would gain his counsel, make him enjoy her company and let her have things, it was the only hope she had to escape and find her father.


Garrosh snorts, clearly amused, but relents, leaning into all the plush pillows behind him "fine, little blue skin. Do as you wish"

Asch was intimidated, but she stood her ground, grinding on his cock, nibbling his neck. Garrosh made little weak noises, but Asch worked, hardly deterred. She certainly wasn't sure what men liked, Asch teased his cock, thrusting only the head in before sliding it between her lips, making him jut and quiver for the heat between her legs. Asch wouldn't allow it yet, she needed him to think of her just like that orc woman. Asch continued to tease his cock, pleasuring herself with it as well, finding the little spikes of arousal making her wet. Asch had never been told how to pleasure a man, nor how to pleasure herself, so she did what felt right. Garrosh growls now, grabbing at her hips greedily, thumbs digging into her pelvic bone. "On with it blue skin. I won't wait much longer." His tone made it sound final, Asch gulping, did as he asked. For weeks her body shaped too him, making it easier to take him fully like he wanted. it was painful at first, but soon she worked him into a snarling orgasm.


Xxx

"Dance for me pretty pet" Asch peers at him with hooded eyes, arching her back to look behind her, Garrosh had her dress in silk and bangles. Her horns were covered in jewels and thin chains, Asch puckers her lips jutting them out cutely before listening to him.


Garrosh was a jealous creature, Asch was clever enough to use that. Asch had no music, but she went down toward the open floor, peaking at all the company, smiling sweetly as she swirled her hips and twirled her wrists like she was casting a beautiful earth spell. Her skirt jingled, along with the beautiful headpiece. Asch danced toward the men, hitting them in the face with her silks until they had a dazed look. Asch touched their cheeks tenderly, giggling at them over the sounds of talking. Garrosh's mouth was hidden behind his fist as he watched with dark eyes as she twirled around the room, giving each their own little show.

Xxx

Asch had been playing this game for weeks, playing pretty and tantalizing, finally it payed off. Garrosh beckoned her one night as he was working "what can I do for you?" She coos sweetly, fluttering around his back, running her fingers over his tattoos, he mutters, not really saying anything at first, then gestures to a chair "sit, I have something for you" Asch blinks wide eyes, confused and honestly excited.

It only takes him a moment, but he turns to her, with a little smirk "you've been a pleasant surprise, little blue skin. Give me your arm." Asch does without question, Garrosh leans over to his desk, plucks a quill and sketches something of a smaller part of his own inked tattoos, it's artful, mimicking the swirl. "It'll hurt" is all he says before stabbing an inking tool, Asch endures with a tight face as he carves into her unmarked flesh, creating his unique swirl. This is what the other woman had, the mark. This meant she could leave the confines of the hold, go outside, escape without question.

Asch was happy.



Way into future

Asch was sweltering in her armor, the hot sun was blanketed for miles by the tree line, but it made the heat trap and boil the air. The jade forest was unkind to her plate. When her squad came to the camp she freed her hair from its pigtails, letting it flow behind her. Jania Proudmoore was directing some men before spotting her "Asch! Just in time!" Asch didn't know what she was on time for, she got a rather urgent message and was rushed here by boat.


"What am I doing here?" The Mage embraced her, looking cold and hardly bothered by the heat, Jania's touch was windy and frozen, it made Asch shiver before returning to her over heated state.

"Vindicator Celli recommend you for the job!" She says smiling widely, Asch cocks her brow, head tilted. "What job is it?" She asks again, fluffing her hair. "Prisoner escort and care" jania explains, Asch almost swore she saw snowflakes come out of her mouth. "Standard as it goes, mages will enchant the cage, you will ride with the squad and stay for the trial" Asch recoils slightly "trial?" Jania nods, "we can't have just an execution... no matter how much I want one. The Augusts Celestials requested there be a fair trial."

That made the job a little harder, far riskier and higher profiled. Asch was a competent Vindicator, certainly one that could handle such a delicate job. "Who is my team escorting?"

"Garrosh Hellscream"

The life drains out of her eyes.


It had been two years since she escaped him and his tortures, she still had the black, foul looking marking on her arm that signified her a slave owned. She dare never tell her father, Asch hid it from prying eyes, no one knew what he had done too her, what he made her do. Velen didn't even imagine it, because his daughter was so good at lying.

Seeing him again, it would make her feel sick, numb. Even though he was a prisoner, Asch would feel like the weak, broken woman he captured. Asch swallows, schooling her face as though she was indifferent "where am I taking him?" Jania conjured a floating map, pointing to their location "you are taking him from this point, to the Temple of the White Riger, in Kun-Li summit. You'll be crossing through the Vale. It should take a month at best, since the areas a hostile. The shire of seven stars also wishes to host you, the counsel will be there to meet with you, that will add an week or more to the trip." Asch was the squad leader, as she agreed to be when this was brought to her. Now she does not wish to have any part what so ever.


Asch mounted her pale white crane, gifted to her as a show of faith from the Pandaren people, the bird swayed side to side, making little coos, but it was well trained and Asch felt how calm the beauty was. Asch however, was worried sick, the cage was to arrive from the boat, being overseen by Jania, she would meet them here any minute with the rest of her escort and Garrosh. Asch shucked in harshly, scowling at the forest path ahead. She could do it, would do it. Maybe he wouldn't remember her, after all she wasn't special to him, just another plaything. Garrosh had so many consorts and pleasure slaves, some of her own kind and others of his own, but she doubted they objected to his advances.


At best he wouldn't remember, Asch would suffer in silence and await the great tigers judgement.

"Incoming! Lady Proudmoore!" Asch swallowed and made her mount spin.


Asch never saw Jania, or the people with her, they were blurs, all clouded around Garrosh. The orc looked exactly the same, a few new scars and an even fouler snarl, but completely as she remembered. Even down to her regal aura, despite the cage. Asch felt powerless, staring at him, shaking.

The mighty Warchief peered up, wild yellow eyes staring at her very soul, Asch froze, his brow furrowed, head jutted a little, then what scared her the most.

A smirk.


Asch shriveled inside.

"Vindicator!" Jania calls, ignoring the orc completely while she trots her horse to stand in front of Asch "my mages are ready and the escort is mounting. I will leave this to your capable hands" Asch bows her head without a words, too afraid to say anything, worrying herself sick. Garrosh remembers her, what if he exposes her? She would be in trouble, her father would find out what had happened to her. Garrosh still stares at her, Asch ignores him, pretending to fix her cloak. Jania notices none of it, the shame on her face, or the orc's sickly devious look.

"Farewell, good journey" Asch snaps up "yes, be safe!" It sounds awkward, but the Mage doesn't say anything. Asch closes her eyes, but she still sees the orc. "Form up! We ride until dusk!" Asch turns her bird, knowing what follows behind her.

Chapter 7: Garrosh dabbles 2

Summary:

Garrosh Hellscream/Original Female Draenei

Chapter Text

 

Chapter Text

Asch was tense and cramping in her armour, coiled like a winding snake. The soldiers were too hot to notice, the Mages walking next to the cage noticed, but said nothing other then confused glances they left the Vindicator alone. The night slowly turned the boiling heat into a haze of musky warm, still hot but now it was foggy and wet.

They had to ride in the hot, musky weather much further then they'd been told. The camp they were suppose to meet had to be set up miles away from the original spot because of attacks. By the time they arrive it was well into sundown. Asch was tired and sticky as they wheeled toward the open of the camp.

"Vindicator! Where would you like the prisoner?" Asch flinched, glancing at his cage, pulls a clump of her hair away from her sweaty face and sighs "in the heart. Feed him and make sure he drinks. I will sleep in the tent closest." The Mage nods, hurrying to do as told.

Asch fed her mount, carrying its reins toward the stall where she could let it rest. The Mage and soldiers had long since gone, none bothering to stay close because of how the camp was. No one had to watch him, he was in the middle of their camp, soliders could see him easily, hardly in ear shot. Garrosh was ripping at his bread and gulping the water left for him. Asch didn't look at him. She could hear all the disgusting noises. Garrosh however was watching her, smirking as he finished off his bread.

"You cut your hair" his voice was soft, mocking. Asch felt her heart pulse "I liked it long" Asch ignores how genuine it sounds, "I don't much care for what you like" she snaps back, feeling foolish for even responding. It was what he wanted "you used too" he says, wide lips curling around a thick smirk "you were a good girl for me" Asch spins on her hooves, swirling up dust and dirt, ruining the soft patch of grass. Asch was giving him what he wanted, she kept telling herself that, but even all that couldn't stop her.

"Was I? Just like the rest of them?" Garrosh tilted his head, laughing lightly. It was a gruff noise, one of derision "jealous blue skin?" Asch hisses, snorting lightly and digging her feet into the soil. "How many stayed Orc? Did they all flee like me that day? How good were they?!" Garrosh still laughs at her "you were so timid, what happened little blue skin? I miss my timid little cock pleaser" Asch snarls at him "she became your warden. I revel delivering you to death!"


Garrosh snorts once more "if they rule it so, still I shall enjoy breaking you, all over again" Asch froze.

If.

What did he mean if. Asch took a moment, Garrosh watches her, blinking his glowing eyes in boredom. This wasn't an execution. Garrosh could get away with it. The celestials could rule banishment, confinement. Freedom from death. Asch snarls her lip at the idea, "I'm finished with you."

Garrosh watches her through the bars, smiling triumphantly.


The next morning Asch left her food, pushed it away. Ignoring the pain in her stomach, the whizzy churning. Asch poked out of her tent and Garrosh was watching her, smiling over his bread and water. Asch wanted to beat him. Of course she resisted. "Vindicator!" One of the Mage's yell, blinking toward her in a flash of magic "the Horde escort was found- we have injured!" Asch springs into action, the Mage knew where to take her.

Garrosh watches it's a keen eye as Asch rushes over, the holy light pulses through her, washing over the broken and bruised Orcs, Bloodelves and Trolls "we staved off the atrackers m'lady" an Orc scout said, holding onto her arm "you did well, rest now. I have you" it didn't take long to seal their wounds, clean the blood and get them to rest. The cart they had brought carried a few of the weaker while the rest mounted.

"Mhm you still heal? Should've stayed a meek little priest blue skin" Garrosh comments, resting his elbows on his bent legs, Asch glares thinly "Vindicators are seasons in all forms. Healing is only one of my many duties and skills" the Mage shaped the cage "quiet Orc" they all knew she was captured. They didn't know for how long, or that he abused her. The way Asch told it, Garrosh had no idea who she was. That she was kept in a cage and no one hurt her. She fled and tried to find her way home for months, living off the land and finally came home. Reality of it was Asch got on a boat and got ho e the same week she escape.

They would take her off the case if they knew just how horribly he treated her. Asch didn't want it to begin with, but she wouldn't allow her reputation damaged because her past came back. Her father wouldn't allow her to work as a Vindicator if he knew.

"What does he mean? Is he bothering you?" The Mage hisses, tapping their staff against bars. Garrosh snorts, shrugging it off. "They rounded up prisons by class. I was among them. We had numbers. Now enough" Garrosh eyes her, but stays quiet.

It took a long time to get to the next checkpoint, Garrosh was fidgeting in his spot, watching Asch. The camp was set up the same as a last and Asch looked over the mountains, tomorrow they would be close to the shire, maybe a team would meet them and escort.

"They don't know" Garrosh says, picking at his tusks. Asch knew what he meant "no" he laughed, Asch hated his laugh "still daddies little girl are you?" He was mocking her, Asch glances at the guards, watching them mill about, none the wiser. "It's none of your business what I am" his eyes lit up "the blood on my cock told me I was your first. The scowl on your face says I was your last" Asch did not give him an answer, but he didn't need one.

"I am told no man can match" he was happy, again triumphant. Asch snapped "you don't even feel bad, do you? After it all, you lost- and... and yet you don't even care!" Garrosh watches her, saying nothing "I can't even get married- have a life after what you did to me" she was soiled, she couldn't be given away to anyone. Velen wanted her to marry, he had good intentions, found wonderful matches, but she couldn't. No man would want her.

"Mhmph" Garrosh grunts after a long while of silence "no one should" Asch whipped around, flaring in anger at him "I took you like a mate." Asch knew rudimentary parts of his culture because it was very similar to her own. Orcs take mates for life, they do not separate from them even in death. It was the most sacred thing in their shared cultures.

"You took everything from me" Garrosh peaks at her, hand slowly coming up, his finger got far enough to tenderly touch her face before she flinched away. His bulky hand still floated between the bars "Orc's have nothing else but honour" he mutters "I gave all of it too you"

"By raping me?!" Asch hated the word, it was ugly and harsh and made her fell like a victim again. A weak little girl.

"By mating you"

Chapter 8: Garrosh dabbles 3

Summary:

Garrosh Hellscream/Original Draenei female

Chapter Text

 

Chapter Text

Asch hated how it made sense. Garrosh among many things had status, from himself, from his father. Anyone in his inner circle would have the same. Any in his bed was just as important. Asch didn't let his soft words mean anything, wouldn't let them. Asch was his favourite, more and more often she was requested, was kept near him at all times. Less and less were the others, it made them jealous. Garrosh didn't care.

Orc men give their women everything. Status, estate, name. Everything went to them dead or alive. Asch was his. Everyone knew it from the inner circle to Orirgimmar. It was surprising she could keep the whole thing a secret, with so many knowledgeable of her sire Asch figured it was bound to come out and be a shameful blot of her life.

Still, Asch wouldn't allow his words get to her, it was a perverted attempt to ensnare her. As they rode Garrosh didn't speak to her, hardly looked at her. Asch assumed it was bad, but couldn't feel upset at his lack of interest. The less he spoke the better she was off. They were close to the connecting point where the vale and jade forest merged. Many of her vanguard were staggering away, having only been allowed through certain checkpoints. As of now, most of her original guard were replaced. It was made up of mostly Horde now, it didn't bother her. Many of them were hand picked by Thrall and Vol'jin. Even a few of Bloodhoofs were here.

The Mages ended up being four of five remaining humans. The last being one final guard that would depart before the Vale to deliver orders. Jania said the safety of the travel made it easy for both Horde and Alliance to get things done without being raided. Asch could careless wh she was appointed, so long as hey listened to her.

Though the peace was short lived as they came into the mountains. Rushing rivers that connected the forest to the wilds raged to their left as the jungle grew thick and dark to their right.

The thoughts of safe were far from her mind as she watched the growing blackness. A huge crack and thud, then howling. Hozen erupted like a sea "attackers!" Asch shouted, the Horde with her sprang into action, a fight ensued around the black jungle.

Garrosh' cage was being battered, the Mage's there tried to keep the Hozen off, Asch launched herself toward it, trying best to help. Garrosh looked disgruntled, confused and overall annoyed as they attempted to rip it over.

Ultimately, they had succeeded the Hozen forced the cage over and it rolled off the hill, into he rushing water. The Mage's with her had long since fell and the Horde had not noticed the cage go off, Asch fell with it, yelling as it forced her in the water. Garrosh looked shocked as the bars bend and the wood broke. The rapids threw her about, her armour denting as it cracked into the sharp rocks.

Asch could barely breath, water was everywhere, she tried desperately to get above the rushing waters, but hardly had the strength for it. Garrosh saw, he too was being roughly handled by the water, but easily kept himself above. With no other choice and quick decision he pushed himself off the rocks and grabbed onto Asch as she fell under the water again. Asch was dazed, she was bleeding but Garrosh was strong enough for the both of them, he held Asch's head above the water and kept her from hitting the rocks with his own body. His hide took the brunt of it, Garrosh kept Asch close, pressed as best he could, the water wouldn't clear anytime soon, he didn't fight it. They would wash up safely soon enough. Where, Garrosh had no idea.


It took hours, Garrosh didn't know how many, maybe more then a day. It was dark when they arrived at the Vale opening, it was dark again now. Garrosh couldn't tell what time or how long they'd spent it he water. He only fought to keep themselves alive through it. When the current finally strives off, they come to an abandon beach, surrounded by forest and damp air. Asch was knocked unconscious, though he doubts she would know where they were.

Garrosh was soaked through by the time he crawled out of the water. The sand stuck to him wetly and Asch dangled off his massive shoulder like a bail of hay. One thing he did know was that if he didn't find them shelter and get a fire going they'd freeze. Pandaria was known to be deathly hot in days and as cold as Northend in nights. The bone chill was settling in, he didn't have much time.


Garrosh managed to find a cave, it was damp and very small, but still. He didn't leave Asch there, small worry that she would wake up and get lost in a panic, so he carried her over his massive shoulder. She was breathing, it was a dead sleep, he was slightly glad for it. The woman hasn't gotten much of it. It was no secret to him if just how fond he was of this woman, it only grew when she left, making a big hole in her wake. Garrosh knew people called it love, but he had done wrong. If it was the last thing he'd do in this world, he would attempt to do what little right he could. Maybe then dying wouldn't be so bad. Asch was wrong, he did care, he did feel bad. She wouldn't believe him now. Garrosh would try, despite how little it might work. Then he could go peacefully.

Garrosh imagined the trial would pretend to be fair, they would give him hope of banishment someplace. Garrosh thought about it, where he might be put. Outland seemed good a place as any. He could be cast away, live whatever he had left and atone for his crimes. His family name was prideful, but they were humble before. Simple clansmen, Garrosh had little knowledge of farming, but he figured he could learn. Though, a swift death was likely in his future. Still, one could hope.

For now, he grabbed wood, all scattered along the ground, without his weapon Garrosh was forced to find two shapely rocks, he could make one at least. Fish was the best choice on this hell of a continent, here Garrosh had no idea what was favourable to eat, or even safe. Fish were almost always safe. And if not, it wouldn't matter much.

Garrosh wondered idly when Asch would wake up, how she would react. He knew they'd have to find a way back to the vanguard, he'd do nothing to upset her however. Asch stirred over his shoulder, but didn't wake up. At some point he hoped she would. Out of the two of them, she was the only one trained in healing. His cuts and bruises were easy to deal with, large in size but mangable, he'd lost a lot of blood and water they were in was salt water, he knew that was bad. Asch though, he couldn't tell how bad her injuries were. Wouldn't look either not until she was awake. Garrosh wasn't about to make her panic more.

Garrosh managed to spear a handful of fish and trudged back to the cave, he left Asch on the wet sand floor and tended to a fire.

Asch shutters, her head pounded and she was freezing. Her eyes shot open and the light of the fire blinded her for a moment. "Careful" an amused and tired voice said to her, Asch let her eyes focus and the brownish blob became a man, an Orc. Garrosh sat on ass, poking a little stick through the fire as fish sizzled over its flame. The loincloth barely hid his modesty, Asch tried to get up, but found her arms to weak.

"We fell in the rapids. Don't know where we ended up. You were out for some time." Asch remembered being attacked and getting launched in the water. "Y-You saved me...?" Garrosh peaks at her "couldn't let you die, could I?" He could, probably should have. But he didn't have the heart to see her die. More and more each day he felt the grip of Sha drown away, he felt like himself again. That self was little and locked away, but while the Sha abused Asch, he felt love and fondness, a bond. It was smothered by need and fowl anger. His care for her however endured still.

Garrosh never in his life assumed he'd find a mate, or one that would be it. Asch among all was a surprise. A Draenei who fought the Sha inside him and lived. Her race didn't matter, Orc and Draenei were compatible in culture and sex. He doubted very much they could make a go at it though.

"You're going to freeze in that armour" Garrosh didn't want to see her shiver any longer, but she probably wouldn't dare take any of it off. Asch gathered herself enough to sit up. She felt sand and water and pain. Shaking her head at the idea, Garrosh shrugged, looking rather warm and comfy. "Food is nearly ready" Asch saw the piss poor job he did of wrapping his cuts. Her side felt clumpy and blood crusted over her head. Garrosh tipped a warped piece of wood with water in it toward her.

Asch wrung her hair out, Garrosh paid close attention to their food, hoping it wouldn't burn. His stomach could handle it, he doubt very much she could though.

Asch spent time washing away the dirt and grime. She took off her cloak, shoulder plates, gloves and boots, letting them sit by an open side of the fire. Though, it didn't help much. Asch was still freezing. She was wearing little linens underneath but she'd be damned if she would expose herself like that to him. Asch wasn't about to give him an excuse. Asch got up, Garrosh watches her do it, watches her stumble and even stops her from falling with a swift hand. Asch lurches away. Outside the cave was nothing, water and disturbed sand. Trees were behind and the cold brushed over her in a gust of wind. Asch quickly went inside, falling toward the fire.

Garrosh grabbed his skewer of fish and watched Asch do the same, still freezing. "You're going to get sick" he mused, trying to prompt her into sense. "I'm f-fine!" Asch snaps back, teeth chittering "I doubt that" Asch glares at his response "we're both each other's best chance at surviving" it was practical, Asch could understand that, still he let it slip "I won't hurt you."


Asch was told a lot of his crimes were committed under the influence of the Sha, that a lot of it would be accounted for, but dismissed at his trial, this included what he did to her. More she thought about it the more likely banishment remains a proper judgement. Sha were anger feeding beasts, Garrosh had much anger, a perfect host. Now, as it drained out of him, he seemed sad, remorseful, painfully aware of his sins. Asch still needed more, but she knew for now that he was correct.

Garrosh didn't watch her strip, but images of their past came to mind, Sha tainted memories, but he could see her body, it still remained nice, shapely. Many scars over her arms and neck, Garrosh didn't look further. It was trust he wanted back, he would get it.

Asch wouldn't admit it but she felt better, the cold hung around her, but wasn't overly present anymore. She felt exposed, they were equally naked, small barriers of cloth hiding intimate parts of the them. There wasn't much talking as they ate. The darkness seeped outside, the only light was their little fire. Garrosh however found a large bark piece and stuffed it in the entrance to snuff out the light.

Garrosh twinges at the pain in his side, Asch huffs "come here, I can fix that." No sense in him dying before his trial. Or before they get out of this. Garrosh's massive frame moves silently toward her. His body heat was radiating in waves, Asch was still freezing. It always annoyed her how Orc's were so warm.

Asch used her light magic and closed his wounds, bigger cuts left little white scars, but Garrosh didn't seem to complain. It tickled in all honestly, he had never felt this kind of magic before, his count was full of Shamen, not paladins or priests. Asch mended her wounds as well. It only took a few minutes to be done with it all. Asch was exhausted but the time she finished, the pain and tiresome journey made her weak, Garrosh seemed to also feel strains, it carried heavily in his shoulders. They sagged, making the impressiveness they usually had a little less. Asch dousing blame him.

"Thank you" she says quietly, remembering her manners "you didn't have too" Asch wasn't going to ask why. Garrosh shrugs "wouldn't look very good if you died" not that it was his only reason to keep her alive, but he wasn't about to admit how much he cared. Asch seems disappointed by his brush off, "you are light" was all he said. Asch couldn't figure out why, she wasn't going to speak at his trial, whatever happened here between them would not reverse what he did, even help his case. One good did not outweigh. Why had he kept her alive, was it impulse? He was still good natured, even more so now that the Sha was vanishing from his body. Was it out of necessity? They could easily keep each other alive. He was big, Garrosh overpowered anyone he came by. Asch knew the land, barely, but she hand an idea.

Maybe he was doing this all just to hurt her again. She could do little against him, even trained as she was. Garrosh was still massive, much bigger then he used to be. Orc men seem to never stop growing. If he wanted, he could do as he said, break her all over agin and have his fun. No one would know, Asch wouldn't tell a soul. Garrosh hadn't, still might, but right now. They sat, both looking at the fire.

"You'll need me to keep warm blue skin" he mutters in passing, watching the flames "your people have slow blood" that was true, Asch and many like her found it hard to keep warm, it was mostly females, men didn't have much an issue keeping body heat. Asch was terrible for it, her mother was always freezing, even wearing the thickest furs. Father told her it was uncommon. It was a blessing in hotter climates. Here it was a nightmare.

Asch worries her tongue, knowing what he meant. She would have to huddle into him for warmth, rely on him to not do anything. It was a big risk, but Garrosh did warrant something of trust, having brought them the shelter and feeding her. Asch relented a little, nodding carefully "are you tired?" Asch nods, "mhm" he answers, beckoning her closer. It took a while for Asch to move, Garrosh seemed content to wait.

When she did he slid down in the sand, holding up his arm for her to slot under. Asch finally pushed herself to rest against him, the arm hovering came down, making a comforting weight. "Gods" he hisses, fidgeting "you are fucking freezing" Asch finds a little humour in his statement, pressing her hands into his abs. Garrosh groans in mock pain, making her laugh.

There was a smile present on his face and persisted as they fell asleep in each others embrace.

Chapter 9: Garrosh dabbles 4

Summary:

Garrosh Hellscream/Original Draenei female

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Asch awoke to a loud, calm noise. It went, ba-dumpf, ba-dumpf. Asch realized she was atop Garrosh, her limbs draped over him. His heart was a powerful noise, he was breathing deep and moving Asch up and down, it felt strange. Garrosh was very warm, so Asch didn't bother to move. Garrosh wasn't awake either, so instead of ruining the peace Asch let it be. One massive arm was draped over her, it seemed that was how she was moved in the night. It didn't matter, Asch for once didn't try and overthink.

Asch peaked her eyes open, looking at him with sleepy interest. Garrosh never looked so calm. It was rare to see him like this, Asch had never once got the privilege. She took the moment to just stare. Garrosh had very sharp tusks, that had never changed. Somehow he had always been gentle not to scratch her too hard, they each had matching rings stuck to them. Each had little matching designs that looked rather beautiful. Asch remembered how lush his hair was too, he let her touch it before. Garrosh looked much like his father when he wore it up.

Grom, Asch remembered to be quite imposing, his son certainly inherited that. In many ways the two were the same, though Asch would never tell him. His father was bloodthirsty and calculating. He touched her head when her father met him one day, Asch doesn't remember what they spoke of, only that the big Orc had smiled at her around his tusks. Garrosh had the same smile.

Garrosh finally stirred, he could feel Asch awake atop him, her little tail was swaying, tickling his fingers. Garrosh grabbed the thin muscle, smiled as Asch yelped, flinching against him "morning blue skin" Asch fidgets as his eyes open, a heavy blush on her cheeks. Garrosh forgot that her tail was sensitive. He let it go without giving it away that he knew, at least attempting to let her salvage some dignity.

Draenei were surprising creatures. Garrosh learnt a lot about them, well before he met Asch and from then his knowledge only grew when she came into his life. Draenei women were much smaller then their men, never as dark in any shade and their eyes were a much brighter hue. Their little tails were a sexual pleasure center, very unlike men. Their horns were much softer too. Asch was gorgeous to both Orc and Draenei standards. Garrosh never thought he would find their women attractive. It was interesting to say the least. Orc women were strong by nature, Draenei women were strong by choice.

"Did you sleep?" Asch was disgruntled, whipping her little tail into him as punishment, it didn't hurt but he let her do it until she was satisfied. "Yes" Garrosh grunts, nodding once before sitting up with her In his lap, carefully letting her drop onto the sand next to him. Asch slides off like slime, watching him with big eyes.

Garrosh brushes hair from her neck, looking at her with soft eyes. He quickly snaps out of it, ignoring how it felt and wrenches upward, bones cracking as he goes. Asch stays in the sand, watching him. "Your armor is warped" he comments, looking over at the pieces "unwearable" Asch laments, it was far to beat up and bruised to attempt to wear, without a proper blacksmith it would likely stay that way. Garrosh shrugs "better that way. You'll make too much noise in it, attract too much attention" he was right, it would be far to loud and though she trusted Garrosh to get them out of situations, she rather not be the one putting them in it.

"We should leave. Better we don't stay here" Asch clambered up, mushing her hair as she followed him out, only stopping as he did when he got outside "do you know this place?" Asch took a long moment, the land was open, one side cut off by sea and the other thick jungle.
"Did we fall off a waterfall?" Garrosh nods without a moment of hesitation, Asch sighs lightly.

"We're somewhere in Karsang wilds"

"Quickest way?" Asch pouts, thinking. It wasn't safe by any means, given that they had to stay off the main road "we need to get to Zhu's basin, it should be that way. We can take the hidden road up to the original route and hope we meet our party" they hadn't made any protocols for losing each other, it wasn't suppose to be complicated, Asch hoped they would stay at the final check point. If not, walking all the way to the Vale would take a very long time. Now that they had to trudge through the wilds.

"Safest?" Garrosh dared ask, Asch shrugs, "isn't much of one. We're best being quick. It'll easily take two months on foot, maybe more" Asch doubted very much they would send lookout parties, no one had seen them fall into the rapids, nor was anyone on their team well versed in explaining where they might end up. At best if the natives ask, they'd say somewhere in the forest. If anyone had survived that is.

Jania might pull together something, but she hardly knew the land either. Asch knew it only so well because her father helped her map study and the nights here were never full of sleep. She studied the map best she could. At least her sleepless nights weren't in vein.

"Come then" he sounds winded, annoyed. Asch was too. Garrosh let her ahead of him and followed as they skated through the jungle, edging around the brush.

Asch wondered how this all happened. At first she wasn't told much of the mission beyond prisoner escort, probably because it was important. Asch decided to help only because it was asked of her. It didn't pay well, nor was it worth the trouble. Asch wished she was still home under the light of the Exador.

"You still have my mark" Garrosh surprises her, Asch looks at the tattoo, then back at him "I couldn't remove it, they would all know what it meant" everywhere she went everyone knew what it meant. Garrosh was famous for having marked his pleasure slaves. Like cattle. Asch ignored how that made her feel overall. There was a small part of her that liked it, crazy as it was, it was like a victory symbol, she had won. "Some might even return you" it sounded like a joke, but it wasn't. Many Horde still held his banner, for the time he was Warchief, Garrosh did a lot to improve his people's way. He brought traditions back to the modern Horde. People thanked him for it, gave them hope like no other. Garrosh had been inspiring before the corruption of the Sha.

Still, Asch hid the mark under her hand with shame. Garrosh looks at his feet, it was hard, but he uttered "I'm sorry" it almost made Asch stop completely, Orc's did not apologized for anything, it was a sign of weakness. Garrosh especially. Asch tripped over her hooves looking back at him, he looked very much sorry.
"It's okay" Asch didn't know what to say, Garrosh shot her a look "don't say it if you don't mean it" she shut her mouth. Now it was awkward.

Asch gulps "I will mean it, one day" they don't say anything more.

Notes:

EDITED APRIL 20,2108

Chapter 10: Garrosh dabbles 5

Summary:

Garrosh Hellscream/Original female character

Chapter Text

 


They had trekked very far, Asch wasn't sure how long they had been out in the wilds but the trees were thinning out, Garrosh looked hot and annoyed, not with her, but Asch knew if they came into any problem, Garrosh would surely kill it. Asch felt naked, having worn armour and robes, it was unnatural. Garrison seemed fine, wearing little to nothing.

Asch wanted something more, something to cover her exposed back and soft belly, she wouldn't ask. There was tension between them, but that wasn't new. It was different a layer over the old version. Their relationship changed, Asch couldn't deny that. It was out of necessity, they needed each other. Asch needed him to survive this mess and Garrosh needed her to get them out of it.

And they'd never believe him if she showed up dead, but Asch wasn't going to think about that.

It was equal, Asch wasn't equal before, it was always him over her. A pleasure slave wasn't even above live stock. Asch stares at the back of his skull, prickles of his black hair was growing from the neck up, he was massive. Asch had always noticed he was a big man, but it was clear he was much larger then his father. Even after being under him, draped around him.

Asch never realized until now just how far his shadow draped.

Garrosh looked behind him, eying her with his milky yellow eye. It was beautiful, his eyes were gorgeous. When he looked at her, Asch felt his power. "Suns going down" Asch gulps "we can keep going" Asch liked the shadow he cast, it would be cold once the sun went down, but now she hid behind the shade. Garrosh grunts at this, brow pintched.

"The mountain line thinned out, no chance of a covering. We need to find tree brush" Asch slept under the stars before, not under these stars. Her home had beautiful stars, before her mother died she adored the stars and cosmos. Velen told her long after her mothers passing that she had twinkling eyes, like the stars themselves were captured inside. Asch looked at the stars of her new home and felt connected.

"Yes, it looks as though we are merely days out from Zhu basin" Asch touches the rock, dusted with sand. While she walked behind him Asch wondered just what would happen when they got back, obviously she would speak out of what he had done, though it might matter little. Thrall would certainly not forgive him.

The Horde were people Asch admired, the Alliance were a people of progress, where Horde valued traditions and old ways. Garrosh had brought that back, Thrall was a good leader, though he lacked knowing his people, not his fault but still, it showed very much. Vol'jin was a man of spirit whereas Varian did not put much stock in believing. Velen was noble, the Narru was a gift and the little Prince was learning under her father. Asch had met him many times.

The little princling spoke often of the light and peace, of love between the Horde and Alliance. Thrall had married a Nightelven Priest, Asch hadn't seen the woman herself, but had heard of peace talks between the leaders. Velen was for it, but it was vetoed harshly by the rest, the mate of Thrall was banished and to be captured if found near Alliance territory. Asch wanted the treaty desperately.

As a paladin Asch put great stock in people, her faith was from her father and she never assumed anything of anyone. Even Horde people's. in fact, she found she fit in greatly with Shamen's and Druids, they were in tune with the earth, the elements. Just as she was with the light. Asch especially enjoyed listening to Tauren, they all had gentle voices, sound minds and only did what the earth mother needed.

Many didn't agree with her, Dwarfs and humans hated Horde, Gnomes spoke rudely of Goblins and most of her own people would kill Orcs on sight. Velen would not tolerate such a thing. Even though many atrocities were committed against her people her father would not want vengeful bloodshed.

Asch couldn't kill Garrosh Hellscream, even with what he had done.

The night was climbing over the bend and Asch prodded Garrosh to follow her into the patch of forest. The floor silenced her clopping hooves and his big thuds. The grass was soft against her bare ankle while the tree leaves tickled her hair and horns. Garrosh wasn't amused by any of it, fattening the grass and cracking the branchs that tried to touch him.

"We can't set up a fire" she told him, it could attract animals and even worse, set the brush on fire. Garrosh grunts, snapping another branch "find us a small clearing then blue skin" Asch narrows her eyes, but doesn't retort, knowing it would end in her own misery.

Asch looked up through the trees, the starts poked out. "Do you remember your mother?" She asks without thought, his mother had died much like her own. Not in battle of course, in her bed. She died sleeping, holding onto her husband. Garrosh snorts "of course not, my father neither" he was angry at the question, that was obvious. Asch persisted.

"My mother was colored just like me" an air of pride comes over Asch "my father says I look just like her, she loved the stars. She died from poisoning. The legion" Asch remembered little of her mother, besides what her father told her. She had one imagine of her mother, Asch wa spooking up at her, her mother was smiling. It was her happiest memory of her.

"Dishonorable way to pass" Garrosh has first hand knowledge of this, but Asch didn't comment on it, instead she shrugs "my mother believed it wasn't without purpose. Now she is a star, just as she always wanted" Velen called her his heavens light, he called Asch his little light. "I know she was a shamen, that she loved the earth and above. That I was named for her love of fire" Asch grins and Garrosh, though his face was still fowl.

"Here is a good spot" Asch points to an empty area, it was small but covered them perfectly. Garrosh pushes passed, flopping in the ground. Asch smiles still at him, going to him and popping down, leeching into his skin and warmth. "My father wanted me to know of her, know that through their suffering she was still hopeful-"

"Enough blue skin" he growls, whirling around completely. Not a second later he looms over her with a snarl. Asch lets fear swallow her, flashes of before came to her, being under him like this, helpless.

But it stops.

Garrosh presses his head into her collarbone, sighing deeply into her bare skin "I never knew my parents." Asch feels his breath, the shallow exhale and wheezy intake. Slowly, she touches him, her hand comes up in its own and lightly grips his side, squeezing the taught muscle "I am sorry" he shakes his head against her "it is not yours to be sorry for" Asch licks her lips, casting her eyes away. She did feel sorry. She had met Grom Hellscream, he smiled at her with his pearly tusks.

Garrosh maybe never saw that. It hurt to think such. Instead Asch quiets her mind, shaking it away and cooking her arms best she could around Garrosh, the Orc went stiff, but allowed her this. Asch didn't know why it brought her comfort, his warmth was intoxicating and secure, something she never though she would feel with the Warchief.

Garrosh furrows his brow against her supple skin, for days in the jungle she smelt pretty, like the sweat caking her neck, shoulders and forehead wasn't sweat at all. Asch's Narru marking flared to life, something Garrosh had never seen before. It glowed bright, blinding him. Asch gasps, going cross eyed "oh!" Garrosh blinks, squinting at her.

Garrosh had heard little about this, the Draenei signet, the Narru light that inhibited them. Nothing was written about them, they were sacred.

"What is that?" Garrosh could see her face darken, a blush as pretty as indigo. "It's... it's our symbol, all are different" Asch's was a baby blue color, thin tails spring outward and in the middle floated a square, on the outside had many little dots. "What's does it mean?" Aschs face keeps coloring "it means... that I have.... I am at peace t-true peace" Garrosh was shocked by this.

Once he overcame is surprise Garrosh realized just how close they were. His clothed groin pressed lightly against her soft, pinched together legs. He could feel the arousal peak, desperately he ignored it. Asch still has her hands on him, gripping the meat of his sides, careful she tried to move, but Garrosh hisses low, shaking his head "don't move blue skin."


Asch froze, this was all too familiar. Garrosh looks at her with shame, embarrassed that he couldn't controls his basic urges. "It's alright" she whispers, hiding her face in the crook of her shoulder, the signet still floating there like a beacon.
"We should sleep" Asch tells him, urging him with gentle pushes, Garrosh nods curtly, making no noise. Quickly moving so he was on his side. It went deathly quiet, the crickets making the only sounds beside the gently sway of branches. Garrosh shrivels, the arousal now filled with guilt.

Until her little petal soft voice floats in his head "it's cold" she tells him, crowding his space. Garrosh finds the courage to look back at her, the signet still laminating her skin. "Come" his voice was low, almost loving. Asch scurries, disturbing grass as she goes, folding herself into his body like she was meant to be there. Garrosh didn't think to much about it as her eyes fluttered shut and her hands pressed into his skin.

Slowly he brings her closer, flush against him. Garrosh cradles her back with his hands, stroking under the brown loose linen and down to the base of her tail. It felt like home as he drifted, thinking of the pretty mark.

Chapter 11: Finnik dabbles 3

Summary:

Original Male Orc/Original Female Bloodelf

Chapter Text

Asch dressed in very light pink silks, Finnik wore simple leathers, the dinner was large but the people were few, Asch's family was surrounded by guards, her father was at the head of the table, her mother was at Resis left and her brother was to his right. Finnik was right next to Asch. It was quite odd looking, he was far to large to fit, but made it work. Everywhere but his own home he was too large to fit.

"Oh sister please you have to tell me!" Vela bursts, cupping her hands "have you met our Regnant lord?" Asch laughs lightly, watching the stars light up in her little sisters eyes "I have, I danced with him. It was at a honour for Finnik. All the Horde leaders were there. Lothamer was sweet" Finnik chuckles, taking a gulp of water "I was dancing with Savaynans, we all made it a compatition. Thrall and his woman won" Resis hums thoughtful "the nightelf? Orcs do crave exotic I see" Asch could feel his fists clinched under the table.

Eli coughs, "how goes your paladin training?" It was a tradition in their family, the first born son would become a paladin. Asch wasn't suppose too, but did so anyway. Her father didn't like it, Asch was suppose to be a priest, be apart of the female legacy their family had, Vela didn't conform to it either.

Both were disappointments.

"I've finished, it has been thrilling. I was top my class!" Eli was happy for her, he and his sister looked proud of her. Unlike her mother and father, who stared and sipped their wine. "Finnik, that wolf you rode in with, beautiful creature. Where did you get her?" Eli was far more sweet then Asch gave him credit for. Finnik perked, smiling lightly at the question "Yellow-ear chose me long ago. Thrall was hosting me at his clans home. It's a tradition for the pups to pick their companion. She's been with me ever since" Asch giggles, smiling around her glass "I have one, not nearly as old, Havoc. Clumsy thing."

Eli laughs at her "much like you sister" Asch huffs at him, glaring playfully" she's beautiful" Vela coos "her fur looks so soft, you're so lucky to have one. Daddy won't let me!" Orgimmar breeds riding wolves, not as nearly as nice, but still gorgeous. "They are savage animals." Resis chides, looking awfully annoyed.

Finnik sighs heavily, having just about enough with his intolerance. Asch understands, when they were first mated no one trusted her, liked her even. Bloodelves were marked as thieves and social climbing whores. Some said as much. Finnik would beat them into apology.

Still, he doesn't say anything. The dinner crawls by, her siblings were curious about their lives, asking interesting questions, like enamoured children.

Even though the plates were cleared away, it wasn't polite to leave until the hosts decided, only then could Finnik and Asch escape. Finnik hated the rule, but it was Asch's culture and he'd never disrespect it. Though, he would be in the right too. All night long her mother and father had picked at his way of life.

"So Asch" Eli began again, turning himself toward her completely "you're the only one of the three of us who's even close, where are my little nieces and nephews?" Vela squeals, nodding along with her older brother, Finnik tenses harshly beside her, but Asch ignores him, grabbing his hand with both her smaller ones "we're trying" she gushes, holding Finnik's slack palm against her chest.

Finnik softens at the joy in his wife's voice and closes his stolen hand around her little ones, smiling lightly at her siblings excited faces "really? For how long? Are you pregnant already?" Eli laughs at his little sister, watching her bounce off the walls at the news "calm down little sister. They must be very busy, give it time."

Eli looks at his sister with adoration as he speaks "not too much time, I hope." Asch shakes her head "it won't be, I promise you'll be the next to know. I want you both there" Finnik peaks at her, worried slightly. Her siblings however look ecstatic, both mostly never left Silvermoon. It would be quite the adventure for the two if they came to Orgrimmar.

"We are tiring" Resis snaps, his wife looking red in the face "dismissed" Eli kisses his mother and his sisters, clapping Finnik on the arm before escorting Vela away. Finnik lets Asch take him to her room. Most of the house looked the same, it was hard to navigate. Asch seemed at home, knowing exactly where to go. But of course she would, it was her childhood home. Finnik wished he had such a thing.

Though he grew up with no such luck, he rather liked his upbringing. Every night he slept under the stars with the soldiers, everyday he met a new place. It wasn't until he met Thrall again did he finally settle in one place, become leader to his forgotten people. Few weeks after he met Asch.

"I'm sorry" Asch says, Finnik realizes they were in her room, the door shut "I'm so so sorry my love" Asch was beautiful, her face was pinched, but the moonlight made her dress sparkle and her eyes glint. "Don't apologize for them" Finnik holds himself open, though he was angry, he'd never turn it on his mate. Asch went to him, burying herself in his hide.

"Your siblings were a silver lining" Finnik whispers, tangling her hair. Asch hums thoughtfully "Vela has never seen an Orc before, she was very excited" Finnik chuckles, her younger sister was a delight among the sour of the dinner "we will have to host them when we get home."

Asch smiles, eyes half lidded "I'm glad you like them. At least something good came of all this" in truth Finnik did not believe anything good would come of being here.


It didn't take long to find their bed, the soft sheets felt nice. Asch was tucked to his side, breathing softly.

Chapter 12: Garrosh dabbles 6

Summary:

Garrosh Hellscream/Original female character

Chapter Text

It was night, the pale moonlight washed over their skin as they sat inside their cave. It was bigger then the others, still small. Asch looks over at Garrosh, he was fiddling with bamboo shoots, breathing deeply.

"Do you think you'll die?" She asks, timidly. Garrosh regards he over the bamboo "I think so" there was a long moment before she turned toward him, her tail making a dent in the soft sand. "I don't want you too" it was a shocking revelation to even her. Garrosh seemed floored by it. "You-" "what does it mean" she interrupts "to be a mate?" Asch knew few things about the working of his culture, even less of his clan. Warsong. It was a proud clan, traditional as the old world.

"It's means to love and care. To be there" Garrosh answers, a heavy pinch in his brow. "You might die and I don't want you too. I can't stop them. But-" she bit her lip "I want to be mates, for however long you have. Please?" Garrosh couldn't say no to her. Dared not too.

"Alright" there was light in her eyes that made him weak, "how do we become mates?" Many clans had different ways of doing it, Warsongs ritual was complex as his clan was. "We go out and kill something together. You make useful things from it, as do I" Garrosh would make their mating fur, Asch would make food from its organs and the claws or nails would become symbols of their loyalty. "We paint each other with our clan colours then we mate until the wolves howl and the paint mixes" Asch frowns lightly "there are no wolves..." he grins "I suppose we will be mating for a long time then" Asch giggles at him, watching his eyes brighten.

It took a long time to find the right colour for Asch, Garrosh would use the blood of the animal they would kill. Asch didn't like the idea, but it was tradition so she lemented. "The paint will stay on for a while" he warns, poking at one of the blue berries she hand in the make shift wooden bowl. Asch huffs at him "it'll wash away" he let her think she was right and didn't say anything.

Once they found something worth killing Garrosh got low and Asch crept toward it in the same fashion. It didn't take long to slay the beast and Garrosh could lift it easily over his shoulder. Asch giggles at the sight, Garrosh puffs himself out, looking like a gratified peacock.

Asch went about using the tigers meat and organs, she remembered how to use every part of the animal from her training with the broken. Garrosh skined it, fluffing the pelt so it was comfortable to lay on. Finally he took the massive claws and carved two necklaces. It took many hours to fix and finish, by the time they mushed and bowled the paints it was clouding outside, a sunset faded along the skyline.

"What do I paint?" Asch asks over her messy bowl, Garrosh shrugs, having no idea himself. "It comes to you" his clan mates had said so, it was a beautiful sight the next morning when the mated pair came to show off the mixed colours.

"I'll paint..." the blood in his fingers felt heavy "my favourite parts of you" Asch gasps, smiling.

When they begin to paint it's messy, Garrosh chastely removed her linens, they were both bare. Asch made patterns on his face first, covering the tips of his ears to his nose, waving little patterns down his neck and pasting over his jaw. Garrosh coloured her horns, cheeks and dotted her ears, swiping down her neck and slathering the little tentacles. Asch was ticklish and couldn't contain herself when he did this, making a little mess of his work, but he didn't seem to mind. Asch herself moved over his shoulders and arms, making a skeletal path to his fingers, outlining each one finger. Garrosh pasted her hips and belly, thumbing each breast tenderly enough.

They kept moving down each other, making marks and hand prints, Asch laughed when his big hands made two huge prints over her inner thighs, squeezing the flesh. Asch wasn't nearly as sexual until she got to his groin, weaving her hands around his sex, matting the course black hair with the blue paint. Garrosh growls lightly, feeling her little hands work around his sides. He palmed her butt in his hands, making equally big prints there. Asch softly traced up his back, feeling and appreciating the hard muscles. Once they were both satisfied they looked at their work. It was artful, still drying. Asch was covered from head to toe in patterns and lines. Garrosh was too, but Asch took it far more seriously then he did. Asch outlined everything she adored, Garrosh could feel the paint.

Garrosh grins at her "now we mix the paint"

This time he went very slowly, knowing she might want to escape. Garrosh would let her, without getting offended, the Sha raped her, he would understand if it got to much. So far his advances were welcomed. Garrosh kisses her, trailing down her neck, listening to the little moans and felt each jolt. "Spread your legs" Asch's face was red as the blood on her skin, but she did as he asked. Garrosh remembered how pretty the sight was. Her cunt was colured a shade darker then her skin, wet and he wanted to do nothing more then bury his face between her legs. Of course, he went slow, showing his intentions. Asch seemed too shy to watch as he got closer to her. His cheeks rubbed into the painted handprints, surly mixing with the paint on his cheeks. Garrosh licked once, surprising her.

"Mhm!" He chuckles, allowing more pressure. Garrosh had a very big tongue. It was flat, wide and thick. It covered the length of her slit and forced between her lips. Asch quivers, thrashing as it poked her hole. Garrosh paid attention to her reactions, applying pressure to the little bud before leaving it, he was teasing he knew, but he wanted to savour each second of this.

Asch's hooves press into his shoulders, the little twinge of pain made him groan against her. Asch whines at the impossible heat, wiggling into his tongue. "Garrosh..." Asch was breathless, peaking at him she saw he was staring, watching her with his yellow eyes. Asch ran a hand over his skull, petting the flesh and scratching the skin with her nails. Garrosh buried himself deeper, the little push egging him on. Asch would be embarrassed by the noises she was making if not for the fact they were in the middle of no where. She sounded like a bitch in heat, wailing as he worked his fat tongue inside, nose rubbing the bud purposely.

It didn't take long to make her come, Asch screams into the cave, shouting his name and babbling out moans and whines, Garrosh didn't let up, he wanted to wring out all of her noises and commit them to memory. Asch tried to push away, her eyes filled with tears as she came again in quick succession, only then did he let up. Garrosh lapped up her jucies with his tongue, the taste was tangy and fresh, he wanted more.

Garrosh scaled up her body, mushing the paint between them. The colours mixed in places the friction was harsher, making a nice warm purple. It looked rather beautiful. Garrosh pulled her legs up, resting them on the curve of his hips, his fingers snuck between, ghosting over the wet lips. Asch squirmed, she was trapped between his body and his hips trapped and tilted her legs up, exposing her. Garrosh locked eyes with her and watched how her mouth opened as he eased one of his fingers inside her warm heat.

It was as warm and soft as he remembered, tight as if it was her first time. This time however there would be no blood, Garrosh would not allow himself to hurt her. When he was Warchief he was famous for his stamina, the sex, women would come to his bed and talk about it for days after. Garrosh could be famous for the love he now had for this woman, if in the end he was put to death, his legacy would not be the madness destruction, it would be this Draenei. For she knew him better then anyone one, here and now, this was his history.

Asch arched into his body, the paint on his chest rubbed onto hers, Garrosh hums, watching her face contort. A very small part of him hoped that his legacy would grow within her after this night, they only had so few left, maybe this would be the only time they would lay together, Garrosh did not know- but if she were to carry his seed, maybe his tainted name could hold meaning, beauty. The child he might sire would abolished all of their fathers sins, just has he did with his own father. Maybe even be proud to wear the name Hellscream.

God knows the name was tied to men that wounded it, maybe with a mother like Asch it could mean something. It was a pipe dream however. Garrosh could only hope, never know whether or not she'd be given the gift.

Asch made a weak noise, trying to thrust herself into his moving finger, Garrosh wouldn't have it, he held her hip with his other hand and drove the finger in deeper, a steady, aggravating pace. She made his fingers wet, drip even. Garrosh was pleased as he pulled the finger away, licking it while watching her.

"Tell me" he starts, wiggling her into a better position "if it's to much, tell me" he was firm, face set in a harsh line, Asch worries her lip, nodding at him. His cock was heavy in hand, he ran the tip down her slit, wetting it with her jucies. Asch twitches, eyes darted away. Garrosh was warmed by just how shy she was. Carefully, he thrust the tip, poking inside. Asch huffs, spreading wider for him.

Slow as he could manage he inched inside, the wet heat making him dizzy. Asch was breathing short, but no protests. Her walls clinched and accommodated for his girth, accepting the intrusion easily, as if they had put ever stopped. Asch was perfect for his cock. Garrosh admired how she looked on it. Face flushed, legs spread. The colour difference alone made him growl. It looked right to him.

Asch wiggles, moving his cock inside her, digging her hooves into his ass impatiently. This made Garrosh chuckle and rock deeper inside, getting just the shocked reaction he wanted "careful Asch" he cooes "I want to take my time" Garrosh watches her eyes widen and lose the lustful shadows "you... you said my name" he laughs "rather I call you blue ski-" Asch surges up, kissing him messily. His expression grows soft as she inches away, holding him close "say it again" this time he moves his hips, without a teasing drag "Asch."


She kisses him, with passion he forgot she had. It was possessive, needy even. Asch held him impossibly close, gripping the fat of his neck in her soft hands mostly, it was full of love. When she let him go, Asch took a gasping breath, eyes rolling at his steady thrusts. Mindlessly kissing what she could reach while moaning at his attentions, loud enough for it to reach far outside and disturb sleep animals.

Garrosh had sex win many women, many for his race and plenty others, Draenei women were built much like Orc women were, not a fatty, but strong. He didn't have to hold much back, he did out of fear she would panic, but Asch was putty, thrashing underneath him, pawing at his shoulder and neck, kissing him when she was tilted back in the tiger fur moaning her voice hoarse. Garrosh attacked her neck, nipping and biting, leaving little nicks with his tusks, no deeper then little cat scratchers, he made sure.

Asch was beautiful like this, sweaty and wild. Clawing like a angry cat. She managed to rip up his hide, leaving small marks and cuts in her wake down his shoulders, back and arms. Garrosh hammered into her, gripping her upper legs, his hand would leave bruises but that only appealed to him. Garrosh loved to see the aftermath, the bites and marks, bruises and paint. Asch was covered in his colour, it covered her chest and blotted her face. It looked like warpaint, he loved it. Though, she wouldn't be able to take it off for a very long time. Asch would surely be mad after tonight. Garrosh didn't even want to think of what she would do to him if it was still on her skin by the time the trail started. He knew it would be, he wasn't even sorry.

The alliance or her father might not understand what the mess on her skin was, but the leader and people of the Horde would, Thrall most definitely. It only spurred Garrosh into making it more noticeable, so she couldn't cover it up. Her face was a mess of it, horns were completely covered and if the bite marks and hickies didn't inform the alliance, the smell on her would. Orcs easily stunk their mates with their scent. Asch didn't have a strong smell, but Asch would stink Ike him for weeks, maybe even months. Garrosh was told he had a potent scent.

Asch came with a scream, juices gushed on his cock, her back arched off, taking him deeper. Garrosh grunts, holding himself from joining her. Asch's cunt tightened harshly, he could feel every pulse as she fell exhausted into the ruined pelt beneath. Asch jolted, wailing as every thrust, over sensitive as he kept on, "ha-ah ah.. Garrosh" she babbles, pawing at him. Garrosh let her drag him, the sweat smelt sweet on her as she buried his head into her neck, holding him as he still worked into her.

He didn't slow, even as Asch became droopy, her hands stroked over his face, her tender eyes looking at him. "Love you" she struggled to say, Garrosh hesitated his hips, thrown off by the confession "I love you" Asch smiles before tilting back, moaning low. Garrosh drew a long breath and decided to quicken his pace, ready to finish.

It didn't take long, her abused walls fluttered and milked his cock until he snarled and came, gushing thick strings, Asch came once more, it was a slow, gasping one. They laid there, huffing in each other faces before Garrosh fell to his side, carrying her over to rest on his chest.

Asch let him, nuzzling into his skin and cooing sweetly. Garrosh smiles, stroking her hair "hm, I like you like this" Asch was drowsy, fucked out and needy. She clung to him and let him do as he pleased "mhm" she mutters, too tired to try and respond.

Chapter 13: Varian dabbles 1

Summary:

Varian Wrynn/Original female character

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Anduin looks at his father, trying to decide whether or not to pity him. The object of interest was a visiting Paladin, a Highlord of the light. His father could not stop staring.

It had been a very long time since his mother, Tiffin. Longer since his father had been interested in another. The paladin stood a few inches short of his father, her hair was pale white, skin a rosy colour and her eyes were an oddity. They shorn yellow as the light. Anduin watches his father with great amusement. The High King was tense as a bowstring. "High King," the paladin says with grace and a fine voice. His father curtly nods, ponytail shaking wildly. "I am Asch Andrews, Highlord of the order." She was full of confidence, appreciation. Varian smiles, as Anduin holds a childish giggle. "I wanted to thank you for your men. I've safely returned each one of them." His father had heard of the new Highlord's victories on the isle and in faith offered his men to her.

"The thanks are mine," the king says warmly, on the edge of his seat. He was completely engrossed in the woman before his throne. Highlord Andrews brought down a legion camp with her own small army and the twenty soldiers Varian granted. It was quite a victory, one that had caught both Wrynn men's attention.
"Stay for the counsel, I wish to hear your ideas for the assaults tomorrow." Anduin grins, watching her face. "Thank you High King!" Andrews took the dismissal, following the guards with her long cape trailing behind her. Varian sighs with an air of interest. Not once until she left did he take his eyes off her.

Anduin was one of few people that was privy to spend all his time with the King, the only one that could ask his father away. Now, he used this time smartly. They were in his father's rooms, big, impersonal, and empty, as if he was just visiting. Anduin knew that his father ignored his happiness in favour of his sons, but it was time his father found his own again. Varian wouldn't dare remarry because of his son. Anduin did not know if that would become of them, but he wasn't about to allow this woman to fade away.

"Highlord Andrews is promising, wouldn't you say father?" The interest in his father eyes was obvious as he turned, still fixing his shoulderplate, "She is, I'm intrigued to see what she has to offer." Anduin knew his father would skirt around the point, so instead he pushed it.

"Father, you find her beautiful, I know this. Ask her to accompany you to the gala." His fathers eyes popped, widening considerably large, "What-" Anduin gave him a look, "Father," Varian narrows his eyes at his son, staring at the easy smile and always hopeful eyes. "You've been forgetful, caring for me and neglecting yourself. Mother would not hate you." Anduin knew his mother was put to rest long ago, his father had moved on. Anduin knew it was because of him.

Varian's eyes went soft, as carefully he went to his son, touching his shoulder with a firm hand, "I am fine." Anduin shakes his head, "You deserve love father. You couldn't take your eyes off her." His father went pink, grunting out an awkward cough. "Even so-"

"Just... for me father, ask her for me?" Varian looked hesitant to agree, but finally he agreed, nodding slowly ."Good!"


Xxx

Varian hadn't had to woo a woman in ages. Tiffin found his awkward nature charming. Asch Andrews he knew nothing about. The woman was tactically clever, spoke smart and wouldn't accept failure. That much could be said about anyone.

Asch was standing there, talking to no one Varian knew. Wearing her white armour, palm on the hilt of her sword. Varian hurried forward, gaining her attention just as he came to their little group. "High King," she said pleasantly, face coloured a sweet rose. "Highlord." Asch beams, perking visibly, "This is my personal guard, Orondis. He was a shorter man then either of them, still he bowed with respect. Saying no words he backed away, obviously noticing the Kings urgency.

"I wish to speak to you, Lady Andrews." Formal was easy, official. Varian thought it was too soon to be personal. Asch gave him her full attention, "Of course my King," Varian puffs his chest, eyeing an outline around the beautiful paladin. "We are having a gala in honour of our soldiers." Asch makes an excited noise, "I have heard! They couldn't ask for better honours." Varian agrees, then awkwardness settles in. Varian bit his lip, looking at anything but her. The Ashbringer settled to her hip gleamed. "How's the sword treating you?" Anduin would call him a coward.

"It's wonderful. Perfect in my hands."

Another bought of silence.


Varian felt like a coward. In battle he could slay throngs of orcs. Yet he couldn't speak to a woman.

"I- um... my lady," there was a timid shake in his voice, but Asch doesn't appear to notice. "The gala... I am without company. Would you honour me?" Asch flinches visibly, colouring ruby, "Me?" She says as though it was unspeakable. Varian nods.

"I- of course!" She squeaks, Varian smirks at her, gaining some confidence at her fluster.

Xxx

Asch did not have anything suitable for attending a gala with a king. She barely had any dresses to begin with. She was always far too busy with duties to be able to attend nothing lavish. Stormwind housed the finest makers and fabrics. Asch employed a clever seamstress and with time and much if her advance spent, she came up with something half decent.

Varian wore dark armour, one that couldn't easily be matched, but decidedly she picked a bluish grey to match his breastplate. The trim was white and it exposed her shoulder and arms. The dress itself was lovely, one Asch thinks Varian would be pleased to be seen with. Although she was afraid to trip. It had been a long time since she had to wear something so loose.
Asch adored how pretty she looked.

The night of the gala she spent time fixing her hair up and doing what little makeup she had. As a guest of the Wrynn family Asch had a room close to the gala, but her men were still outside the door, ready to take her.

Asch waited, sitting in the plush bed, playing with the puffy skirt. "Highlord!" her guard said behind the wood door. "Enter." Orondis opened the door and entered backward, "Presenting High King Wrynn." As expected he wore his painted armour, fixed and coloured to look presentable for the gala.

Varian was a man of stone and harsh features, Asch had only ever seen him as such. Now the stone went soft and his face was in awe. Asch recognized his handsomeness since she first met him all those years ago. He never met her, but Asch remembered him. "You look beautiful," he says, bowing his head. Asch gulps, shuddering quietly, "Thank- thank you... you look very handsome ... my King." Varian smiles lightly, shaking his head "Varian, Asch. Tonight we are merely people." Asch shivers at the use of her name. "And then on. Please my lady" Varian extends his arm, still bowing slightly. Asch grabs onto it, the armour chills her skin but his heat was enough to make up for it.


Varian was the centre of the gala, everyone came to him speaking of many things Asch didn't understand most of it but didn't bother to try. Varian held her hip, holding her into his side as the people came and went. "I've neglected you for far to long," Varian suddenly chuckles, looking right at her. Asch blinks up at him. "Will you dance with me?"

Varian lead her away from the people, but the eyes were still following, as if they were hovering merely inches away. Varian only looked at her as the light music played and he directed them into a sweet dance. "Don't mind them" Varian whispers, a knowing look. Asch nods, letting him pull her closer, trying to distract her with the dance.

Varian twirls her, then cradles her close. It was intimate, far too gentle for the wolf king. "I hope all this attention isn't bothering you?" Asch had never been one to anchor toward spotlight, all her life she had pledged to the light and gave the best of her to others, never expecting much attention for it. Varian on the other hand was watched since he was born, raised under the eyes of millions.

"It is rather new." Varian keeps her close, as if he attempted to shield her away from the watchers, but it brought only more attention and heated looks. Many women found Varian Wrynn desirable. "They marvel at your beauty." Asch hides her face as he grins, "Varian you're too kind-" He tuts her, "Not kind enough." Asch didn't know what to say.

 

As the night went on Varian danced with her, only halting if her feet hurt or he felt Asch needed something to eat. Only once were they interrupted by anyone, when Anduin came to greet her. Varian shined at his son, Asch found it endearing.

Notes:

EDITED
JANUARY 22, 2019

Chapter 14: Garrosh dabbles 7

Summary:

Garrosh Hellscream/Original female character

Chapter Text

Alliance soldiers found them, Asch was pushed back, like she needed to be safe away from him. Asch didn't show her hurt as Garrosh was forced into submission, shoved onto the ground and shackled.

Their journey was almost over, Garrosh was held down and caged, Asch was given light clothes "Vindicator I have a warm bowl of water, for the mess" one guard gestures to the paint, Asch shakes her head "no, it's alright. It will go away on its own" the man looked at her strangely, but accepted her dismissal.

The ride up was quick and when Asch was escorted through the gates her father Velen came to her first, embracing his child with a sigh of relief "my child" he whispers, cupping her face "what is all this?" Soft pads of his fingers brush over the caked paint "it will go away" Asch did not answer his question, but he let it go, happy enough that she was safe. "I was worried for you little light" Asch feels warm, smiling "were you hurt?" Asch shook her head "Garrosh saved my life papa" Asch dared to tell him, knowing that he may think better of the Orc, if only a little.

"He kept me from drowning, we travelled until we were found, he didn't hurt me" Velen was always hard to read, even to her, but a small tilt in his lips told her that he was glad, though he did not say it. Her father would, if he was called to speak, he would tell everyone what Garrosh had done for his daughter.

The others would tell what he had done to his daughter.


"Come little light, let us travel to our rooms" the trek was short, they went down a long hallway and they passed many of the leaders, Varian even came with his son. The two humans greeted her, Anduin was warm and sweet, imbraced her despite the filth caked all over her body. Varian was glad she was home, frowning lightly at the mess of colour.

Velen and Asch shared a room, a thick sliding door separating them. The bed was plush and new armour was there for her to take, no doubt her father had it made. Asch almost tears at the designs, it reminded her of stars. Asch felt wheezy as she took a bath, all through it she was worried she would throw up. Asch blamed it on being worried for Garrosh. She couldn't see him without reason until it came out. Asch wanted to prolong it as much as possible. While her father was understanding, it would be very hard even for him to let it go.

Asch held back bile as she dressed in simple dress linens, looking much like a priest.

"Little light" her father says, pulling the wall back slowly "we must be present- would you like help removing those" he gestures to the paints, Asch smiles lovingly at him, shaking her head "it's alright papa. We can go now" Velen didn't press her.

They walked with the other leaders, joining the Horde as they filled out. There was silence for only a minute before Sylvanas Windrunner started laughing under her breath, watching Asch with her eyes of pure blood. Thrall had noticed the Undeads sudden joy and looks on, frowning with surprise as he found her object of humour. Thrall knew exactly what the paint meant, Asch knew many Orcs understood the paints meaning.

Thrall's mood blackened as did his expression. Thunders, the night elf that stood as his mate held their baby close as he whispered toward her. Asch gulps looking at all the faces of the Horde, they all whispered among them, looking at her. Velen notices their interest.

"Is there a problem?" He asks kindly, extending himself toward the others, staff banging into the ground. Baine shifted uncomfortably, Asch knew what was coming. "Yes" Sylvanas sneered, a laughing smile "shes bedded the traitor" the Alliance took a few moments to understand, Velen leans away, showing no emotion as Varian, Tyrande and the Dwarfs all became degrees of shocked, betrayed and harsh.

Still, Velen stood with his daughter.

The fowl mood set in as everyone stares at her. "They are mated" Thrall says with a tight jaw. Asch decides to finally step up. "Yes. We are." It was firm, direct and Asch finally embodied her power. She let the colour on her face catch the light. Everyone gawked, eyes as wide as the moon, "enough" Velen'sstaff clacked into the ground "this is of no importance. Leave my daughter be, she had no sway in this trial" the rage of the Horde quitted as Taran Zhu didn't say anything to disputed the High Priest words. Many silenced, all glaring hatefully.

Garrosh came forth moments after, Thrall looked on in disgust as he glanced between he and Asch, looking at the mushed paint. Taran allowed Garrosh a moment to speak.

"Whatever is decided" he begins while looking at Asch "I want my mate, Asch daughter of Velen to be given everything I have. And a chance to become Warchief of my clan, Warsong." Asch gawked, staring at him with bloated eyes. Garrosh had a small smile "Gorehowl belongs to someone worthy" she gulps, feeling breath shutter out of her as the others looked at her equally surprised and angry "this is your right" Taran told him "we will grant her titles and holdings" there was an outrage, but Taran snapped loudly, baring his white teeth.

"We will decide today, with testament and tomorrow we will give verdict. For your final night, what do you wish?" Garrosh leans toward the panda, shackles clinking "privacy with my mate" Taran sweeps his glance over the audience, assuring none else heard, then nods "this I will do."

"Now" the great Chi-Ji says in a booming voice "we begin!"

Asch spent the hours wrinifbher fingers raw, listening to all they had against Garrosh, more and more did it look hopeless. One after the other they told that tales, reciting everything perfect as they remembered. Garrosh gave her little smiles with his eyes, staying stoney to the rest all the while. Asch appreciated his care, but was far more worried for it to work. Velen stood right next to her, his arm pressed into her as a weight and presence. This helped, knowing her father didn't forsake her as the rest of her alliance did.

Taran's great voice silenced the room once more "we now adjourn, tomorrow Garrosh Hellscream will be sentenced. Vindicator" Asch perks, colouring as he came to look at her "please come with me" Velen placed a hand in her back, prompting her to go with a little pressure, she looks back a her smiling father behind hurrying along and making noises clomps along the floor.

"Garrosh has requested you to spend this night together" it dawned on Asch this might be his last wish, the last time they might see each other. This upsets her greatly, Taran leads her down the steps, winding around until they come to the cells, the far back Asch can see Garrosh on a large bed, magic swirling around in a deep black. He had no chains and he was calm as they came "little blue skin" Garrosh greets when he finally sees her "as promised. Once she is inside there will be magic sealing you away from praying eyes. We will collect you an hour before the trial tomorrow" Asch doesn't wait for Taran to allow her to go, she darts passed the magic and forces the Orc into a desperate hug, tears finally falling "I will leave now" his voice grew distant and the magic cased around them, the only light the few candles left. It was enough however for them to seeeachtoeh clearly "hush blue skin" he coos, engulfing her with his arms "tonight there will be no tears, do not cry."

Garrosh attempts to thumb away her tears, smiling st her with pride and love "you are beautiful Asch" Asch quivers, "no hush" he tuts, wiping away her cheeks "we've no time to weep" Asch nods, willing herself to stop. Garrosh looks proud of her "I want to ask something great of you, blue skin" Garrosh pulls her onto his lap, holding her hips firmly "what is it?" Asch would do anything for him.


"I want you to give me a child" he tells her "I want them to have my name, to make it mean something. I do not want it to die with me" Asch chokes out more tears, falling freely down her face "you won't die" she insists, rejecting the idea "I know" he says sadly, eyes dulling "will you?" Asch cups his cheeks, rubbing her fingers along his skin "yes, please give me a baby" Asch does not know what will happen tomorrow, does not wish to think about what might happen. If Garrosh is put to death Asch would be left alone in this world.

Garrosh holds her, squeezing her flesh "let me make you feel better"


Xxx

Asch knew it had surely been hours, Garrosh wasn't tired in the least. Asch indulged him in many things he wished for. His requests came in spurs, asking things of her that made her blush and ashamed. Some made her snippy and annoyed, some did not help their chance of conceiving but she allowed lol the same.

Asch's thighs were dripping and caked with his leavings, her back was painted as was the insides of her mouth. It was tacky and tasted of salt and slightly fowl but Garrosh only gre more intense, biting and brushing her flesh with his teeth and fingers. Garrosh thumbed the sensitive flesh between her cheeks as he fucked into her, his finger was coated in his semen, it loosened the darken blue puckered hole and Asch snaps away, a straggled noise "Garrosh!" He pokes inside the virgin hole, despite her snarling "relax pretty blue skin" his finger invades the space, eagerly thrusting inside with gentle prods "it will hurt if you don't" Asch wiggles away, his cock persists, ducking inside her curb as his finger toys with in her ass, "you won't be getting a baby if you put it there!" She growls, feeling tingly despite her annoyance. Garrosh laughs lightly "it's the only place my cock hasn't been. Let me fill your pretty arse blue skin" Asch has only ever been with him, hasn't ventured to touch herself, she has heard of husbands doing such things, putting themselves where no possible conception would be mad. Asch could feel the gushing as he thrusts, Garrosh had spent himself inside her more then eight times already.

Women she knew said men liked this, so Asch relented with a huff, allowing his fingers to invade as she bend over, feeling more of his cock as he worked open her other hole with his cum and saliva. No doubts he's done this with women before. Asch felt a little jealous at how practiced his fingers were at opening her, but didn't allow herself to feel it openly as he stretched the puckered hole. Garrosh removed himself with one qhick thrust and held his throbbing cock "it'll hurt" he tells her, holding the tip to her hold? Asch wiggles, adjusting the feeling of it pressing in the foreign place.


Asch let him fuck her ass and he came inside, leaving no hole empty. For good measure had his way again, but now they rested in each other's arms, feeling each other because they knew it would be the last time. Garrosh made love to her this night to remembered everything about her. The way she felt, how she looked. Now he was nose deep in her skin, breathing in her sweaty and wet skin.

Garrosh pets her belly, feeling the soft skin "tell them of me" his voice was soft "if I do not live" Asch feels sad again, but nods "Mhm, good. Let us sleep now, I love you Asch" Asch buried herself in his skin and willed herself not to cry "I love you Garrosh"

The morning came wth Taran eying them with no judgement "come I will take you to the High Priest" Asch kissss Garrosh "go little blue skin" he pushes her out smiling sadly as she made it difficult.


Asch kept looking back until she couldn't see him anymore.

Xxx

Everyone gathered and Velen stayed very close to his daughter, supporting her as her own people and the Horde stares at her with hate and maliciousness.

Taran Zhu waited for it to be completely silent before presenting the celestials "we have come to a decision." Chi-Ji says, speaking for them all. "We have seen and heard many things. What is curious is what we have not. The punishment we see fit shall be banishment, Garrosh will return to his home, where he will live out his days beside his mate and clan, all personal possession belong to Asch, daughter of Velen" Taran presented Asch with Gorehowl as the great crane spoke.

It was heavy in her hands and felt like it did not belong with her. Garrosh looked proud of her regardless.

Anger resided inside the temple as Garrosh was freed of his bonds "inconceivable!" Syvanas screechs, fists clinched. Taran hisses with his booming voice "peace!" Garrosh stands next to Asch, hand curled around her waist "we have dealt justice here today. Enough is enough" the Horde rage as well as the Alliance, Velen stands tall beside his daughter, staff standing in front of her as they further raged.

"Giving him to his slave!" The dark lady continues "how daft" everyone looks at Asch, finally noticing under faded paint the tattoo "that is enough!" Shouted Xuen "I will have none of this. We have served this court. Now disperse!"

Chapter 15: Illidan dabbles 1

Summary:

Illidan Stormrage/original female nightelf

Chapter Text

Asch stares at the demon hunters as they go by, all watching her in turn. Illidan kept few mortal things, Asch had been one of them. They did not like her, but none of them went near her. Many wanted to harm her, many wanted to have her. Asch was beautiful, light skin, long ears. Silver white hair, matching eyes that shined like mother moon. One of the few people Illidan kept close to him.

Many knew their story, Asch was one of few to have seen him before he was their leader, a Illidari. When he was a brother and friend. They hated her for that too. Asch was an infatuation that lasted thousands of years. Everyone knew still the love he harboured for the high priestess, Asch was the replacement. Some pitied her, but Asch did not care.

Asch laid in his vast bed, silk robes covering herself as she watched the demons hunters amble around the war table, Illidan at the helm, looking at the little flags and pieces. Asch used to be a fighter, one of Elunes priests, it had been a long time since she had been recognized as one. Now her duty was to Illidan, she often healed the hunters as they came back, but she cared little for battles. Death upset her. She dealt with it during the war, Asch would have no more of it now.

"Darling" Asch says, rolling herself into her stomach. Illidan's eyes shoot up, "come to me, leave your toys" Illidan dismisses the demon hunters with a swift shake of his wrist. Asch watches them give her hateful looks but pays no mind. Illidan stalks over, resting heavily on their bed "my illidari are not happy with you" he tells her with amusement. Asch snorts lightly, rolling until she pressed into his pants, staring up at his blazing eyes "they think I'm easily swayed by you" Asch giggles prettily at this, clutching his leg.

"Are you?"

Illidan leans over, pecking her forehead "more then I'd like to be, little woman" Asch pulls him down, making him kiss her fully, Illidan makes a soft noise as they part "good that I want nothing more then your attention then, isn't it?" He chuckles, leaning over her until she tuned into her back "you can have much more then that."


Xxx

 

 

Illidan watches his pariah amble about the community of demon hunters. Asch wears little to nothing and always looks beautiful, her hair was dressed in feathers and beads. The hunters both men and women look at her with want, but they know they cannot touch. Illidan sits slumped in his seat, watching her come toward him in slow, pretty steps. There was no ceremony as she climbed the stairs to his lap, sitting purposefully atop his thighs, now paying him only mind.

"Darling" he whispers, watching over the hunters "my love" she responds toying with his hair, fixing it into a loose braid before undoing it "I am bored" she says with a pout "how are you?" Illidan snorts nuzzling her head with a quick swipe of his cheek. Demons were extremely affection toward their mates and quite possessive, over the decades it formed into Illidan and Asch reaped the benefits of his adoration.

Chapter 16: Garrosh dabbles 8

Summary:

Garrosh Hellscream/Original female character

Chapter Text

Asch gripped the hilt of the massive Gorehowl, staring at all the imperfections and feeling as though she shouldn't be carrying the legacy. Garrosh looks at her with pride, knowing finally, the weapon was in good hands.

Asch was painted in their colours, horns mucked over in blood and their symbol was painted over her pretty face with bone paste. The Narru light was floating between her eyes, glowing bright. Asch wore no armour, only little clothes sercured around her chest and groin. A warrior.

Though Asch was a paladin the look suited her well, the metal rings of her race shined through the dirt, her hooves were caked in the wet mud surrounding the ring of trials. Many of her combatants looked the same. Garrosh stares at them all, big, far bigger then his mate. They held mighty battle axes, maces bigger then her body and swords that were thicker then his own arm. Garrosh was nervous for her.


Asch didn't show her fright, like usual she was standing tall, stony, Garrosh held a proud smirk through his emotions. She was beautiful, regal. Five candidates would fight for the right to be Warchief. Garrosh knew the four others, good men, but they would do anything to stop his mate from becoming their leader. A Draenei covered in his clans war paint, a Draenei wielding his fathers weapon.

Asch turns, nodding his way. Garrosh smiles wide around his tusks. The gong sounds loudly, the Orcs and Asch ponce. Though she was the smallest, Asch weaved between them, expertly swinging Gorehowl into the meat of the others. Asch slashed, harshly ripping into one of them.

The fight was dirty be Asch did no escape without bloody cuts and nicks. Two fell and bowed away, glaring angrily at the little Draenei. The last was new blood, one that Garrosh had not seen before. There were few faces that he did remember, much of his former clan was gone as well as its people.

Asch wipes her shoulder, glaring as she felt the smush of blood and the sting of sweat. The Orc stares stares at her with a snarl, hating her. "Come Eredar! We will finish this!" Asch squints at this, it had bee a long time since she was referred too as that. Asc took a breath, set she eyes and charged.

Xxx

Garrosh stood behind his mate, watching her be wrapped in the colours. Asch raises Gorehowl, the Orcs inspired did the same. Letting out belts of cheers, yells and warcrys.

The den of the warchief was bigger then Garrosh remembered, Asch walks around the space, the bed was large enough for the both of them. Garrosh watches Asch become overwhelmed by it all, the large tabard knotted at the back to keep to her form. It was rather comical to see her wearing the same tabard his father and he wore. It showed too, there was a scar in the fabric Garrosh knew of. A big slash mark in the back, created by a nameless grunt of the Alliance.

"Mhm Asch" Garrosh coos, watching her tail sway, "come" Garrosh saw then new furs on the bed, the tiger, wolf and bear looks soft and full, Garrosh wanted nothing more then to bury her into and mate. Asch looked as though she knew this and coloured deeply "there are guards..." the warchief had her own elite guards, big shadows in the leather of the tent, Garrosh smiles dirtily at this. "Indulge me blue skin, they all know I bed you" the vulgarity of it had Asch sputtering, hair shaking about as she recoiled "yes- well... they- they don't need to hear it!" The Hellscreams were famous for battle cries, Asch would become famous herself, being the first female to lead them, the first Draenei.

Garrosh hoped it would be for her own cries.

He wouldn't dare tell her that though.

"Send them away" he teases, Asch had always been easy to stir. Garrosh knew she wouldn't be able to be quiet, the guards and her men would talk about their warchief, they would praise him just as they had long before. Garrosh slinks toward her with slow, even steps. Asch watching him all the while, unsure and embarrassed. Still, she let him touch her face, travel down her arm and caress her exposed belly. There was a small bump of hardens flesh, they both knew the day it happened. It was the day he was freed. Fingers close around his wrist in a comforting weight and pressure. "They would not like a pregnant warchief" she mutters, stroking her fingers into the meat of his hand. The sound of her saying it aloud made Garrosh grow prideful. His future was nestled, forming inside her belly, the Hellscream name would live on with this baby.

"I've told papa" she says with a smile, "he is very excited, but told us to be careful" as conditioned by the celestials both Garrosh and Asch had to report to their respected leaders. Vol'jin must see them once a month and Velen as well, both making sure Garrosh was abiding his banishment. It was a simple two days of portals and nonsense. Vol'jin would be official and Velen would dote upon his daughter, rarely doing as the officials asked. A baby thrown into the mix was going to cause problems, ones that Garrosh was afraid of. Someone would anger at this, the celestials would hold a counsel and decide what was to become of his child. Most would dare consider he'd taint the child, they would say he must grow apart from his father. That Asch must raise him without his fathers influence. It has happened before, Garrosh has seen such. This is why he knows.

Some would use it to hurt him, some may let it pass. But none would stand by and just let him bring a child to the world. Once Asch was showing they would have to inform the celestials. Garrosh would ignore this for now.


Asch sighs, pushing her weight into his hands, steadily falling into his warmth. "Warchief!" There was a soft voice in the other side of the heavy hide "enter!" A little meek Draenei came between the fold, Fahya the Shamen Asch appointed to their clan. Fahya was very thin, heathy but small. "You've guests. I was told to tell you" Fahya was still learning the duties she had. Asch encouraged her regardless. "Oh" she says, disappointed "I'll meet them" Garrosh followed, pressed behind her as she pulled Gorehowl from its place.

Who they found at the gates of their temporary home was shocking. Thrall, his mate and their babies stood. Asch paused in surprise, but recovered. Smiling as if they were another guest. "Asch" Thunders greets with kind eyes, baby babbling in her arms. "Welcome to the home of the Warsong clan. Let me take you inside" Garrosh taught Asch the proper way to recieve guests, functions of a clan and the ways of Orcish culture. She was learning quite well.

"What brings you to our home?" Asch questions politely, leading them under the tent. Thunders hums at the question "we wanted to see how you were fitting in" nightelves were genuine, Thrall however looked pensive, angry underneath his mask of indifference. "You've rebuilt this" he says cautiously, peering around the tent "yes, she has" Garrosh was wavy, but not unfriendly.


The Orcs looked at each other, as if they were debating on whether to fight or passively ignore each other. "I like the changes" Thunders happily exclaimed, bouncing her baby on her hip "Draenei in the camp, it is nice." Many Orcs liked Draenei, Fahya gossiped with Asch about the guards trying to woo her with furs and meat. Asc thought it was sweet, even if those same men would like about it. Some of them though, they thought laying with another women who isn't Orc was betraying their people, watering their race. Asch would let pay those men mind.

"Why have you come?" Garrosh directly looks at Thrall, both knowing it wasn't what his wife had said. "I wanted to see if it was true. That you've truly changed" Garrosh puffs up, smirking lightly "mhm well, see then. I have tried" Thrall does see, he looks on at Asch, the smile present in her face. Even though the tattoo was clear. It had been almost a three months since his sentence.

"How is life now?" Thunders asks, taking a seat in the plush furs with Asch and baby Andis sitting between them "its... hectic. I have never been a leader like this. Warchief is a great mantle to hold." Thunders giggles, waving her off "oh, you look as though you've been one for ages!" Asch had turned the Warsong around in less then two months. Giving them a shamen, temporary home and promises of retaking their land. Asch was going to make good on them as well. Garrosh and her new people deserved that much and more for their suffering at the hands of the legion.

"I can only hope to do them justice" Thrall finally sits with his wife, Garrosh eases down as well, surrounding his mate with his legs on either of her. Asch sits comfortably high and gathers on of his hands to rest between her own on her lap. "We came here to apologize" Thunders admits "our views of you have been tainted by anger, but seeing you now, all that has been built. We've come for forgiveness" Asch feels touched, even Thrall looks softer, she nods "we accept. All is forgiven. Thank you my friends."

"We've also come to ask for help. We have spoke to Velen and Vol'jin. The celestials know what we have discussed. The legion has come once again, with a full frontal assault on the broken shore. The world leaders are gathering in dalaran. You've been invited by Khadgar, both of you." Thunders pulls a large parchment from the bag her husband had. "This is a little outdated, but about a week ago these were the numbers. They have since grown."

The map was covered in green blotted circles and legion symbols showing just where they have set up. Dalaran was scribbled onto the map and the in big letters, 'move' above its poorly drawn version. "Armies are gathering on the shore, both Alliance and Horde have brought down their flags to fight off the legion, Asch" Thunders voice became strong, purposeful "they have asked to to become Highlord in Tirion's place."

Asch tenses, Garrosh squeezes her fingers "they have?" The Nightelf nods, "Tirion fell. His sword was recovered, if you'll have it. There is a ship big enough to take the Warsong to Dalaran. In four days time the city will fill with citizens and delegates. We're all moving to the isles for the war effort. Men and armies will be moved by ship and arrive with our generals. Khadgar wished me to tell you all of this so you can make a desision. The charges will be dropped from you Garrosh. Khadgar wishes you as Battlemaster. Commanding our warriors."

Asc felt the wind blow out of his lungs.

"What say you?"

Asch looks at her mate, Garrosh tilts his head, brows drawn in question "yes" she says without looking back at them "we will help." Garrosh smiles at his mate.

 

Chapter 17: Varian dabbles 2

Summary:

Varian Wrynn/Original female character

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Varian laughs wildly as he forces through the lake. The city was quiet and there were no patrolling guards. Shalamayne was sitting right at the edge, glowing brightly on the soft mud.

"Varian!" Asch shouts, looking up at the open gardens where most of the guests were socializing. "Yes my lady?" he says standing in thigh deep water, hair wet and dripping. Asch holds her dress above the mud, her shoes ruined by the squishy mud. "C'mon" he beckons her, slapping the water toward her spot. Asch flinches away, whipping the front of her skirt "I'll get you another, come here" he begs slightly, smirking with a brow raised.

Asch gulps and toes off her shoes, muck slipping all over her toes, Varian chuckles, pushing back so he's waist deep. Asch scurries, frozen by the chilled water. Varian reaches for her and pulls her right to him, "There we are," he whispers, wet forehead pressing into her own. Asch's teeth chatter, she meets his eyes through her lashes. The moon beats in her yellow iris' and Varian trembles slightly.

Asch notices how he looks at her, his eyes were wide and dark, Asch nudged him with her head, the wet hair pressed into his head and the pony tail was ruined. The water rushed around their legs with his movement. Asch felt his hands on her back and the world turn. Varian sways, spinning them slowly, Asch's feet slip, but Varian makes sure she doesn't fall. Soon they were rocking in a slow dance, the music above in the keep drifting down to them.


Asch plants her feet, stopping them. Varian's brow pinches. His hair was matted and there was dirt on his face. Asch wets her lips, surging up before she can think, kissing him. Varian responds right away, hands swooping to cup her waist, head tilting hers to kiss her back and gain control. Her fingers sought purchase on his furry wet collar, making his chest bump into hers. The wet metal is cold and makes Asch shiver. Only a moment later Varian parts with a huffing breath. "Here" he says, parting from her embrace. Varian swoops off his massive fur lined cloak and manipulates it onto her back and shoulders. Most of the bottom was soaking wet but Asch felt much warmer.


"Let's get back"


The trip was messy, and Varian almost slipped in the mud, but as they came to the shore he grabbed her shoes and helped her up the hill. "There isn't a side entrance..." he says sheepishly. Asch bites her lip, looking at the huge entrance and people leaving. Many ladies still looked beautiful, while Asch looked wet and dirty and covered from waist to feet in muck. Still, Varian stood next to her, tall and proud not hiding his smile as they came to the crowd's sight. Many stared, looking at their wet, muddy king and others didn't even notice, as if they thought they were common people just wanting to see the pretty party goers.

The guards knew who the ere as they passed the guests, bowing as Varian hurried her to the throne where his son was gawking at them like a goose. "Father?" He says with the hint of a laugh, though mostly concern. "Men, find us some towels if you will." Guards ran into the heart of the keep, snorting at their king. "What's all this?" His son says, gesturing to the trail of mud Asch left behind with his fathers mantle. "Hm? Oh, we went to dance," Asch bursts out laughing, weighing on his arm as she giggles. "In mud?!" Anduin exclaims, "No ..." Varian draws out the word playfully.

"In the lake." Anduin has a wide blank expression before he laughs, a pink colour in his cheeks. "Sire!" One guard says, holding a stack of towels. "Ah thank you," Varian helps the mantle off Asch's shoulders and gives it to the guards. "Once we towel off I'll deliver you back to your room Asch." Varian pulls the towels out, ruining their perfect shape and drapes it along Asch's shoulders.

Anduin watches his father and Asch wipe off the excess water, with happiness he hasn't
ever felt, all the while wondering if he have felt this when his father was with his mother still. Anduin had never seen them together, was too young to know. When he asked many said his father held great love for Tiffin. Anduin only knew what family loved looked like, not how his father loved a woman. This was new, beautiful.

"Come my lady, I'll see you soon Anduin" his father already knew he'd be in his room awaiting him. Anduin blushes, rubbing his hair as Asch waves goodbye with a beautiful smile.

"I hope that wasn't too strange for you" Varian whispers, leaning toward her as they walked down the hall. Asch shakes her head, peaking down at her ruined dress. Her whole salary went into its making, but Asch wasn't upset about that. "I haven't had fun like that in ages" Varian visibly perks up, smiling with his cheeks aflame "neither have I...."


There was a stretch of silence as they walked, wet noises following along with her dress "I... would like to see you again," Varian nervously mutters, looking at the bottom of her dress. Asch's little toes poked from the muddy line, and he remembers their heated kiss, how her eyes reflected the moon. Varian missed the feeling of it all.

"I would like that too, Varian" the way she said his name made him happy, giddy even. "How long are you staying in Stormwind?" Ash ponders this, thumbing the knob of her door, "As long as my king wishes," Asch playfully says, adding, "I have a Vindicator looking after the troops." Asch trusted Boros while she was away. "Ah, then I hope tomorrow isn't too soon to ask you to accompany me on a ride?" Asch shakes her head, excited. "Wonderful, I'll see you then."

Notes:

EDITED
JANUARY 22, 2019

Chapter 18: Neltharion dabbles 1

Summary:

Neltharion/Original female bloodelf

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

There wasn't much of a decision when it came to being promised to an aspect. Many had consorts, but few had mates. Neltharion believed in only having a mate, only one to have as his queen. 

Asch was from a privileged family, a nice little high elf. They gave her as tribute, Alexstrasza didn't like this much, but Neltharion wasn't under her rule and he did as pleased.

Neltharion had the choice to appear as whatever he wished, this time he fancied a grey skinned, red eyed high elf. His ears were tall and his teeth were were blunted. Though his fangs still stretched out. Netharion often liked the appearance as a ashen skinned human, with long ties up hair. Tonight however, he was bedding a pretty light skinned high elf, while Neltharion could only change his race and hair, he had no control over his blacken skin and eyes, small part of him cared not to frighten her.

For she was to be his queen and it would do him no good if she was scared of him.

The wide doors of his chambers clacked open, gaining his attentions. The guards carefully handled a meek little pink girl. Her ears were very tall, eyes were confused, but a beautiful sunny yellow colour. She wore lovely silks and no shoes. "My lord" the one handling her said, Neltharion beckoned closer, they were gentle with her. The girl, Asch had a very pleasing face, like most of her race it was angled and accented the cheeks. The perky little nose flared, all her senses were taking in the new surrounds.

"Excellent" he booms with a magnificent voice, scaring the elf into standing stark, eyes cast down. "Leave us, come here little elf" the great dragon pats the bed, the guards leave just as she sits.

"Tell me" he begins "what do you know?" It was a broad, unfair question. But Neltharion wished to know just how she would answer. "Many things my lord" her voice was very soft, lovely "I... I was taught how to please you- but I haven't-" Neltharion quiets her "no no little one, what do you know of dragons? Of life? what was taught to you?" Smoke billows out of his nose, grand eyes watching her with slitted black pupils


"My mother taught me how to make potions, she would take me and pick herbs" Neltharion tilts his head, resting against his curled fist "I know little of the world and even less of dragons" she looks sheepish, as if the black dragon would scold her.

"Mhm" he utters, scales shining under the candle light "dragons" he starts, shifting closer while resting heavily on his elbow. As he legs bump into his muscle and his face is close to her chest, looking up at her with burning eyes. They were smouldering with interest and sparking alive, fluttering like bursting fireworks, it was beautiful, "dragons are all possessive" his other hand touches her inner knee, climbing the silk to see her pale thigh.


"We don't like our things touched-" Neltharion slithers up, forehead touching her and forcing her eyes to look at his "or our mates to be looked at" his eyes were scaling, drying her own out with their blaze. "My wings are bigger then oceans and my body can blot out the sun" as her face heats up, feeling his warm hand press into upper thigh. "Do you like gifts?" Asch nods against his forehead, messing up his hair with the sudden movement "wonderful" he pushes a little, getting further into her space "I want to give you many gifts"

Asch bends to his will, easing back as he crawls over her in a slow, sensual fashion "I would like to give you things too" the implication as him purring lowly "I assure you will..."


The dragon aspect slices the silk fabric, pulling it away. Neltharion had always preferred women of the exotic races rather then his own kind. Dragons were boring compared to that of an elf or human even. Neltharion found their pink skin beautiful, the soft plush of their fatty thighs were nice to touch, no scales or rough skin. Asch was flushed a dark colour, her tits were pleasing, rosy and palm sized. Neltharion wasn't ashamed of his nudity and let her have privilege of seeing this form endowment, hanging between his legs, pulsing and twitching. Asch refused to look at it, Neltharion found it endearing. Promised virgin indeed.

Neltharion touched the hardest part of her groin, pressing one clawed finger against it, thinking how his babies would grow inside. Idly, he wondered how they would gestate, would they be birthed outright as a squalling babe or would she pass his brood as eggs. Neltharion was curious to see the outcome.

Asch wiggles under his hold, legs kneading into his skin uncomfortably "you are very alluring" he whispers, watching her flushed expression darken "spread your legs further, I wish to have my pleasures" Neltharion was a generous lover in the past, he would show his mate just how attentive he could be.

Asch does as told, hiding away in her shoulder, eyes squeezed shut. The pink little cunt between her legs was perfect, Neltharion was smirking at the wetted lips and shiny hole, his pointed tongue licked up quickly, indulging in her fantastic taste. Asch jumps, arching off the bed, Neltharion lustfully peeks at her, tongue darting between her soft petals, lapping at the tangy juices. The little elf was thrashing, mewling loudly and thrusting against his mouth without control. Neltharion dents her thighs with his claws, making scratches and bruises in the perfect shape of his palms. The aspect drowns in her moaning, daring to cause more by toying his fingers into her wet heat.

The elf fucks herself into them, letting the crazy waves of pleasure grasp her. The wild jerks and harsh movements, Neltharion was putting between her thighs, encouraging her on by doubling his attentions. Making the sea of pleasure buzz.

Virgins were always the most fun to be with, his new mate was beautiful. Neltharion liked watching how engrossed and unabashed her pleasure was, how wet she was.

"Nel-Ne.." Asch hiccuped, grasping at the bed, Neltharion grins against her, grabbing her hand and guiding it too one of his massive horns. Asch grips it, nails racking into the stoney shell. It felt nice. It didn't take very long to make her come, Neltharion buried his fingers inside, twisting and teasing her walls until her gasped became labeled breaths and she finally crashed, coming around his tongue with a whine.

"Nel..." she mewls weakly, twitching as he abused her for a few more minutes. Neltharion licked his fingers clean while hicking up her legs to rest on his hips. Asch pulls him weakly, holding him to her skin as he lined his cock up.

Entering in one swift motion made Asch squeak, there was were no tears, but blood did seep onto the sheets. Neltharion kisses along her chest, sucking her skin to a dark blotch before moving onto her neck, his teeth nipped her skin. Asch trembled as he worked, legs shaking. Neltharion hisses, forcing himself deeper, coming with a burst.

Asch clings to him, holding his shoulders. The dragon purrs, licking her skin. Neltharion' eyes slit, his tongue runs over his teeth and he flips Asch over, snarling as he aligns himself again and enters, Asch wails, flinching as he pulls her ass up and makes her back bow. Black dragons were violent lovers, Asch yelps, Neltharion snarls, hiding his face in the back of her neck. Asch would learn about how black dragons compared to humans and other dragons, but the aspect wouldn't be too rough with her.


Asch lets a straggled cry loose, gripping the pillows with strained hands. The dragon locks up her spine, finally sinking his teeth in the meet of her neck, Asch screams, forcing herself onto him.


Xxx

Neltharion stood very tall next to his mate, the dragon gifted her with many pretty jewelry, bangles and rings, even a crown made of earth that didn't chip or ruin. Alexstrasza prettied her consorts, all dragons felt the need to show status through their mates and primes. Alex made Korialstrasz wear elaborate armour and jewels, Neltharion smirks at his sister, laughing quietly as they came to stand with the other aspects.

"Brother" the red dragon greets, head tilted as she looked at Asch "I thought it was still your season?" All dragons had times when they would disappear into their private lands and take a life mate. Neltharion and other black dragons spent every moment up until the spring full moon poked into the sky looking for a mate, wooing them and consummating before showing them in public. Neltharion had a purpose and he felt no threat from his siblings.

"Mhm, I've come only temporarily sister. I was going to present her at our celebration" the flights come together after every seasons end, presenting their mate or newborns, Alex was preparing to flaunt her own brood as was her sister Ysera. His brothers, Nozdormu and Kalecgos were both ending and beginning their seasons, Noz came out of his with a lovely mate, who he was purring and doting upon now. Kal was readying to leave in the next few days.

Nozdormu looks over, distracted enough by the statement "ah, what have you come for then, brother?" Black dragons are territorial at best, furious about any who look at their mates, it must have been quite the oddity to see Neltharion out during his season. "I've come to ask you to grant my mate eternal" Alex reguarded him, glancing at Asch "ah, she is mortal, not of our kin?" Neltharion shakes his head, turning to look at her. The black gemstones gleamed around the gold settings. "Of course brother, bring her here."

The magics of each dragon flared to life, the aray of colours flared to life around her, Asch stood among the five aspects, black, blue, red, yellow and green shot out at her. The at sensation was light, tingly. It was too much.

Asch collapsed into Neltharion, he caught her before she could even stumble. "Ah, thank you sister" Neltharion picks her up, smiling lazily at the others. "We shall see you again at the celebration." The black dragon inclined his head, smirking as Kal opened a portal behind him as he walked back into it.

Xxx

As the days went by Asch became more comfortable around Neltharion, as he did himself. Asch knew his mortal form wasn't all truth, seeing Alexstrasza and his brothers told Asch that dragons could be more liberal with their appearances. Like the first night they were together, at the beginning Neltharion had the appearance of any high elf, of course the aspect couldn't perfect the complete appearance of a mortal. His skin was ashen and his eyes were molten red. By the end of the night his horns were exposed and his scales were all along his body.

Dragons had the unconscious need to be what they were, they could easily maintain mortal form, but it did still take effort. Now, he had claws, horns darker skin and could sprout wings. It was handsome to see. Sometimes he even had a tail.

Nothing was more beautiful then when he was himself. Asch only saw it once, but she was in awe.

Now the dragon was lounging, reading as Asch cleans her hair, washing the long white locks with lavender. The celebration was only two days away and later today they were going to the temple too spend the days for the celebration and a few after. Neltharion said that his siblings were curious about her.

Chapter 19: Neltharion dabbles 2

Summary:

Neltharion/Original female bloodelf

Chapter Text

Neltharion's cock caught in her rim, recently Asch had adapted to his appearance. Now, more than just his horns had surfaced. Neltharion's cock was long, thick and had a soft pointed tip rather then rounded like an elfs. It had ribs like scales from the tip to the base. Asch for an elf was rather adventurous about it, touching it even though it made her blush wildly and become completely embarrassed.

Asch gasps, pushing back onto him, riding his dick, bouncing at her pace while Neltharion laid still, enjoying her. The temple was quiet around them, dragons flew around the open windows, guarding the wasteland.

The celebration was tonight and Neltharion was quite excited to see his siblings, their consorts and babies. Neltharion hopes that his seed took hold and his own children are growing. The aspect might be able to smell it on her, their senses were far greater. Asch hadn't changed much since the aspects gave her the eternal life. The black dragon was fascinated by it and asked her many things.

The little elf told him she felt lighter, more well then she had before, but nothing changed her. Like his own and his sisters Asch's eyes misted and glow, besides that outlier nothing more was altered physically. Alex sent him a letter saying such, although she did promise a greater chance of conception. Asch wasn't yet, but when it happened it would be easy to tell.

Dragons gestation periods were far shorter then any beings, Asch would either give birth to an egg that would hatch at normal speeds or a babe. It would be curious to see her carry a child, what it would come out as. The baby would certainly have dragonkin traits, horns and ashen skin. It would look elvish because of Neltharion's chosen appearance, no matter the gender it would always look more like the sire rather the mother. It's natural form would be that of a humanoid rather then a dragon. The opposite to Neltharion, but the great black dragon welcomed this, it would be interesting to teach the child how to keep the form of a dragon, rather then elf.

Whatever it decided to form as Neltharion knew it wouldn't be deformed, many dragons were wary of mortal mates, afraid their children would be strange in some way. Neltharion wasn't so daft.

If their baby were hatch as a dragon Neltharion would will it too appear elvish as he did himself, once it grew old enough he would teach it proper magic and how to change themselves at their will. The possibilities were unexplored and as far as the aspect knew, he was the first to have taken a mortal mate. Even Alex wasn't so bold and she adored the lesser races. The differences between he and Asch were great but none of them really got in the way of their life. He had no desire to mate in his true form. It was messy and painful, scales would rub and rip and wings would bash into each other. Having her like this, so close and Intimate was far more appealing to him to the former.

Asch wasn't concerned with his scales or the shape of his cock, she enjoyed it far more then when he fully embodied a high elf. Their cocks were so smooth and blunt. Hardly interesting or appealing in Neltharion's opinion, how they pleased their women was beyond him. Asch was louder, became wetter and sat on his cock longer now that it held its true texture and girth. At first she had trouble taking him, it didn't fit and stretched her painfully, but Neltharion was a patient man, they spend hours adjusting her. Now she easily sat on his hips, able to take the full length, despite the new shape it took.

It wasn't too greatly different, it was thicker yes, but other then the soft scales and tip it was much like a mortals.

Neltharion was rather proud. His sister was worried that he would never truly be himself with a mortal woman, that it would be too strange for her. But here he sat, darkened skin, horns tall and scales shining.

Xxx


Asch wore black, gold an red gems. The silk Neltharion gifted her covered her chest in an elegant wrap and the skirt only draped over her front and back, her legs and thighs were completely exposed to the colds of dragonblight. Compared to the other consorts and mates, Asch was dressed the most extravagant. Alex paraded her welps to her family while Noz danced with his mate. Kal was by himself, watching his sisters brood while Ysera spoke to her flight.

There were few black dragons attending, those who had bowed and presented Asch with lotions and charms, giving their respects to the new queen. It was all very odd, but Neltharion easily explained dragonkin traditions and etiquette. If mates of black dragons weren't wearing the most expensive and beautiful things then it was considered disgraceful.

Neltharion himself wore very nice armour, blacks and golds, a regal crown that matches Asch's, but was far grander then her own. He looked quite handsome.
"Ah!" Nozdormu finally peels his eyes away from his mate, Soridormi. The other bronze drake follows close behind her mate. Neltharion inclines his head, bowing in respect to his brother "she is as beautiful as you've said" Sori quips, her alien eyes blinking, "as are you" Neltharion knew which flights had the most friction, bronze and black, Blue and green. Though their leaders were family, the distaste still lingered.

Bronze drakes don't believe in showy bangles and jewels, they believed in expressions. Neltharion gave both affections and things to his new mate, but Sori disliked his flight reguardless. Nozdormu tuts, smiling at his sibling "it seems our poor brother had come once again without a mate" both look over at Kal, standing by his lonesome while watching Alex happily dote upon her babies, her own consort hovering by.

"Shame" Noz agrees "I hope to think next time he will come with a consort. We're eagerly awaiting my seed to take, I wish to come with my own babes" the aspect touches Sori's belly, running his soft fingers lightly over the flesh before laying his hands completely flat. "As are we, I believe we are close to conceiving" Sori holds her husbands hand still while she stares at Asch "where have you come from Asch?"

The elf wasn't expecting to be asked any questions "oh- I" she stutters, Neltharion holds a hand into her back. Reassuring and heavy "I come from dalaran. My family manages trading posts." Sori hums, a slightly fowl sounding noise "and how have you come into our company?" Asch was gifted to the earth aspect because there was no greater honour. Many of her people were given to dragons of all flights, blue, green even red. Men and women believed there was no higher calling. Asch wasn't expecting to be given to Neltharion but her mother and father were incredibly proud.

"I choose her" Neltharion supplies, Sori squints at this "what for?" Neltharion pulls Asch close, "because she is beautiful, exotic and I find her fascinating" over the last few months of his season when Neltharion wasn't mounting her he spent much time asking all sorts of questions, doting upon her when he left to attend things. Asch happily told him her life and what she did for amusement. Neltharion made sure she was never bored and tried to have her in his presence almost all hours of the day.

Besides teaching her his culture Neltharion wished to show her how to rule as queen. It was a rather taxing responsibility, Asch was a noble and knew basics, but she adored learning about his flight. Neltharion easily made her laugh and loved simply having her near. It was easily one of his best decisions to choose her has his mate for life. At first the great dragon didn't believe he would find enjoyment, but he needed someone to be his queen. Both found this venture shockingly wonderful.
Asch had said much one night after they had finished having each other. Curled up to his side she admitted that she was scare and didn't like the idea of being given away, even though it was a high honour. Neltharion was glad for the honesty and assured her he'd do nothing to disgrace her or make her unhappy.

After that those late night talks and long conversations became a high point for them both. The aspect loved laying down the the night and listening to her day or talking about something that interested them both. Usually it was about Asch's crystal collection back in her home. Neltharion promised to have it delivered to their home and now made it a fowl to fill whatever gaps remain in the precious collection. Asch also loved to grow plants, trees and flowers. It was a surprise, but once they got home he was going to present her with a vast milled land for her to make whatever she wished, a garden, a beautiful terrace, a maze or even a cove of trees to hide in.

Sori scowled at his retort, "I see. How lovely" Noz could see how tense it had become and wished his brother and new sister a swift farewell before whisking he ill tempered mate far away. "Ah, what have I done?" Neltharion smiles at her, patting her hand gently "nothing sweet elf, the bronze flight does not like us very much, come let us see my sister and her babies" Asch was excited, it showed on her face as they turned to where Alex was. Asch loved babies, even if they were little welps, squalling and puffing out black smoke.

"Alex, dear sister" Neltharion calls, gaining her attention "brother" her sweet, motherly voice was like music. "You've quite the brood" dragons have one or two babies per season. Alex managed to have three healthy looking welps, they all flapped around her, cooing and bumping their mother while their happy father, Korialstrasz watched.

"Yes, I'm a so happy" she chirps, waffling her finger into one babies skin, causing it to yip and squeal "they are lovely" Asch giggles, watching as one boldly twirls in the air, "mhm I have much to look forward too" both Neltharion and Alex shared the same views when it came to child rearing. Most dragons charged a caretaker to look after their young. Neltharion would have none of it, he would teach his child, care for its needs. Asch most likely wouldn't have accepted any other way. Alex did not either, every brood she took personal care until they were old enough. Among the last, this would be her third successful clutch. The previous held only two in total, one for each time.

There was much work involving young, Neltharion knew this but was eager to do it.

Alex eyes eyes critically "it's very faint" she says, reaching to touch her belly just barely "but there is life" joy sprung over his sister face "ah truly?" The black dragon eagerly touches the warm skin, Asch herself looks excited by the news, colouring a beautiful rosy shade. "Yes I can feel it, you will as well in a few days" Alex was the life binder, in tune with all essences of life. Neltharion trusted her judgement and allowed his happiness to show "wonderful, thank you my sister" he kisses her forehead, embracing her sweetly.

Chapter 20: Neltharion dabbles 3

Summary:

Neltharion/Original female bloodelf

Chapter Text

Asch was awoken by a loud crash outside their window, jolting up she saw dragons spitting fire and crashing into one another.


"Nel!" Asch shrieks, backing up to the headboard. From the living space the Earth Aspect rushed too her, Noz and Alex following. "Here my darling" he beckons, pulling her to his breast, "what's happening?!" Her cry was muffled by his embrace. "We're being attacked by Scourage-" "it's a frenzy outside" Alex hisses, angrily looking outside. "Brother what we discussed...?" Neltharion frowns lightly, looking back at his brother.

"Is it smart? I'd rather her in the safety of our home." Asch glances between them, confused, "what?" She chirps, squinting. "whelps and mates are locked in the bowels of the temple," Asch knew this protocol, when she grew up Dalaran was a hostile place often enough that the women and children had to go to the safe room below the keep.

"It is your decision brother," it was likely Asch would be the only dragons mate to be put down with the whelps, maybe a guard will be with them. Asch felt helpless as she thought about how Nozdormu and his mate would be out there, protecting the temple. Neltharion shakes his head, "no, I've decided I will take to home- Kal!" The blue drake thrusts himself forward. "Open a portal to my lair. I'll get her home and return to you."

Asch gathered herself as the blue dragon and Neltharion himself prepared the portal. "Darling" he calls, urgency in his tone. Asch perks, holding her satchel, "go to the dresser and open the top middle drawer." Asch goes quickly, rolling open the drawer, "a black box." Asch palms it, pulling it out. "I wanted to wait but open it- quickly." Inside the box was a broken fragment, black and harsh red in color. "It's a broken scale from my hide, I thought you would like it." Asch did, quickly she tied it on, fixing the leather to hide the knot. "Now through the portal, I'll see you when it's over!"

Asch went blind for a few dazzling seconds before their home enveloped her, their bed and bathroom appearing as usual, behind the portal snapped shut. The sudden loneliness sunk in.

It hadn't been long but Asch had begun to worry, thumbing the surface of the fragment with harsh motions. Neltharion and his siblings could be laying their lives down. a queazy feeling set in and made Asch feel sick. She couldn't tell if it was morning sickness or an onset of her worry. Either way, she rushed to the bathroom and expelled her stomach. In next five hours were filled with nervous pacing and checking the entrance for his massive approaching figure.

Asch finally decided to do something productive with her time, cleaning their space and attempting to dress for bed. There were small aches coming from her stomach, but Alex said she was pregnant so it had to be the baby.

It took a long time to fall asleep, it was raining outside, beating down harsh above her. The sound of thunder cracked.

Neltharion shook mud the mud away from his face, it caked his claws and festered in his wounds. Alex huffs indignantly beside him "they've tapered off" she claims, looking over the hill. Neltharion turned his massive head, watching all the dragons flights fight off the remaining scrounge. Hundreds were dead. Thousands of scorage were burning in the melted snow and dirt. Neltharion was sickened by the scent of death.

"Noz will do a final sweep with his flight. I and Kal will gather our dead. Ysera has the scourage- go home brother" Alex was tired, she was haggard looking and had a nasty slash on her shoulder. Neltharion was no better, his wings were damaged and his neck was bleeding, nothing threatening. "Are you sure?" Alex nods, horns cutting the wind "I'll come back tomorrow, to help" Alex eyes him "no brother you've a well on the way, stay with her" Neltharion glares thinly at his sister "and you've already had three. If you can stay I will come back."

Alex sighs pleasantly, shaking her head, droplets flying off in waves "alright brother. Say hello for me- tell her everyone is fine" Neltharion beganr to flap his wings, gaining height "yes sister I will, be well. Come for me if you need anything." Alex watches her brother go for a few moments, watching the massive black welt grow smaller along the grey smoky skyline. Then she closes her eyes, ready to continue.

Neltharion made it home in good time, under an hour of flying through heavy rain and thunder. The cave was warm and she had braziers lit to make light all though the housez Neltharion quenched some flames, darkening the house, but left any near their bedroom. The filth weighted him down but he watched through his castle, mucking the floor with human shaped mud prints. When he finally got to their bed he found Asch asleep, holding desperately to a pillow. Quietly he stacked passed, leaving the little lights in to see and clean himself.

Neltharion stopped the blood flow, cleaned the caking crust and washed the dirt that he could reach. It was unfinished and he felt filthy, but he wouldn't wake Asch to wash his hair or the parts he could not see or reach. Neltharion could still feel grease and dirt covering him as he came back to Asch. She looked very fitful, scared even in sleep.
Neltharion approached carefully, sliding next to her under the thick furs and silks. The ache and hurt in his bones seized as he drifted off.


The peace didn't last, thunder boomed, shaking the foundation of the castle, awaking both dragon and mate. Asch gasped, flying upward while Neltharion's eased away from the noise, groaning. Asch, still frightened arched away from him, squeaking "wh-what... Nel?" The dragon gave a lazy smile, looking up at her from the plush pillow "you're safe!" Asch covered him, grabbing what she could to clutch into. Neltharion laughs, moving to hug her properly "I came home an hour ago, I didn't want to wake you" Asch squeezes him, uncaring how dirty he was "everyone is alright, we beat the scrounge back" Asch climbed into his open lap, hugging him to her breast. Neltharion purrs, touching her sides, rubbing his thumbs into her soft skin.

"How are you? How is our babe?" His hand went to touch her belly, the soft right flesh was solid "I am happy you are home. As is our baby" Asch nuzzles his flesh "mhm I'm glad" there was a pause "I was so scared for you" Neltharion nods "I know, I won't leave you alone in this world" Asch crinkles her nose "you smell of death" Neltharion laughs again, loudly. "Yes, I didn't want to wake you by running a bath" Asch smiling lightly "I am awake now, go you are fowl" Neltharion finds her honestly charming, easing her off and going to bathe.

Chapter 21: Garrosh dabbles 9

Summary:

Garrosh Hellscream/Original female character

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Becoming Highlord had ceremony, her father was present and Garrosh was standing beside the alter as she was crowned and given the Ashbringer. The weapon was glorious, heavy and the flames swirling in the middle flared to life with new purpose.
Asch however put it down, looking at Garrosh "your ceremony is soon" he nods "here" Asch grabs Gorehowl "use it, bring me honour" Asch couldn't use both Ashbringer and Gorehowl. They were too heavy and needed two hands to wield. It also wouldn't look too great that she was using a warriors weapon.

Garrosh flinches as she presents the weapon "it's yours" he regects it, pushing it away "no" she prods "what's mine is yours, please take it my love" Garrosh eyes it, a worried expression, eventually he takes it. Garrosh had given Gorehowl away to her, had let it go a long time ago, but he needs it just as much as she. Commanding an army without a legendary weapon did not command respect. Asch would keep Gorehowl, she loved the weapon, how it balanced and its striking pattern. Asch knew she couldn't use it as Highlord, she only allowed herself to use Ashbringer because it was Tirion's and the crusader wouldn't want the weapon to gather dust.

Asch didn't want Gorehowl to go without. The weapon was a legion breaker more so then Ashbringer. It slew Mannoroth and broke throusands of demons upon its blade. Ashbringer was the scourge bane, the weapon that slew the Lichking. Asch was there, she remembered how it spilt frostmorne in half. She held one of the twelve pieces.

Garrosh held the weapon and stared at himself in its reflection, Asch took good care of it. The blade shined and every night she insisted to sharpen and wet it until the blade glinted. "I won't betray this" Asch smiles, touching his arm "I know. Let us go to your ceremony, Battlemaster."

Garrosh snorts, heaving the axe onto his shoulder, while grabbing Asch and pulling her to his side "as you say, Highlord."

Skyhold was vast and beautiful. The sky was golden and the Valkyrie greeted them with bows, their wings spread out and spears pointed. Odyn stood and preformed the ceremony. Garrosh' crown was made of steel and blood jems. It was magnificent.


As the days passed so did the legion. Garrosh and Asch lived in Dalaran and most days they woke up ate and went their separate ways. The days are long and full of planning. Asch assisted paladins, went out herself and fought legion demons and once she came home Garrosh met her and both were far to exhausted to do anything else but sleep in a heap of limbs.

Their bed was big, their apartments were one of the few nice ones afforded to important members of the council.

Xxx


Asch often found herself throwing up at the oddest of times, the men she commanded knew nothing of her pregnancy and for now she would keep it this way, but she knew today she had to see her father. Asch dismissed herself, leaving the care and duties to Borois, making her way to the skyhold was queezy and once she got up there she was dizzy and lightheaded.

Chapter 22: Neltharion dabbles 4

Summary:

Neltharion/Original female bloodelf

Chapter Text

It was noticeable how badly bruised and beaten he was. Cuts and nicks, gashes and welts. Asch was very upset when she saw the extent of his injuries.

Her fury wasn't as impacting however. The babe growing inside her had puffed her skin and made her considerably bigger in the last few weeks, it would be less then a month before she gave birth. Alex came to them long after the battle to tell Neltharion their losses, out of many of them the black and blue flights had taken a harder hit. The earth aspect would bury his dead. She came with happier news that Asch would have a normal birth, a little humanoid babe was growing rather then an egg. Asch confessed that she was glad it wasn't an egg, completely terrified of how that would go.

Neltharion laughed at her, saying it would be quite the experience since she couldn't turn into a dragon. She would certainly need his sister Alex to help with the birth, he was thankful however that it wasn't the case. Family or not the only one present for such a thing should be him an no one else. Black dragons were very private. Still, he knew that if they ever conceived an egg that he would have to put his comforts aside for his mates safety.

Neltharion of course knew nothing of birthing an egg and since Asch didn't either she could risk herself and their egg.

"They are forming perfectly" Alex sounds very happy, smiling as she touched the bump with warm hands "I'm so glad" Neltharion shares his sentiments with a slow, lazy nod. "They will be your heirs?" Neltharion freezes, Asch frowns "why wouldn't they be?" Alex quickly realizes what she has just caused.

Neltharion sighs "I have... other children" none of them were his heir apparent they were from pervious seasons, long before Asch was alive "I have five. They cannot challenge our child's claim" Asch glare at him "I don't care about that, he didn't you tell me? What if they try to hurt our baby?!" Neltharion would sooner kill them before letting harm come to his child, but doesn't elect to tell her that.
"They have no claim, they are not children of my mate, they know this" Asch doesn't seem comforted by this at all.

"Our baby isn't a dragon appearing as human like you, they have far more power!" This isn't necessarily true. Asch's child could have mounds more power then his precious brood mothers clutchs. He understood why she was worried "having a mortal mother does not make our child incapable, Asch" he says it like a promise but she still stares at him with a fowl expression "who are they? Do they know I'm carrying?" Neltharion thinks of his children, or had been so long since he bothered to seek them out after their birth.

There was Nefarian, Sabellian, Wraithion, Neltharaku and his daughter Onyxia.

Wraithion would know, he made it his Business to know such things about his father. If the little whelp knew better he would come and present his fathers mate with a gift. Wraithion cared little for his siblings, so it was hard to say if the others would know. Nefarian might, but Neltharion cared little if their approval.

"My youngest boy may. He may even come here and be pleasant. He's no bigger then one of Alex's whelps, he cannot hurt you. My eldest may too. You've nothing to fear" Asch looked apprehensive about his claims, but Neltharion leans over toward her, cooing softly at the bump under her silky dress "I won't let anything happen to my family" still, he added "but I will find where my children are and see if they pose a threat and their mothers, if that'll make you happy?"


Alex had excused herself to the living area a long time ago, giving them privacy to mend the issues she caused. Did she think her brothers children would cause grief? Yes, she truly believed they would try and hurt Asch and their baby, would Neltharion slaughter his brood? Yes, Alex knew she couldn't stop him either.

"I know how you will deal with them if they do" she says with an unpleasant eye "but yes, knowing they won't hurt our baby would put my mind at rest" Neltharion smiles gently, rubbing her bump "then I shall put you at ease"

There was a long period of quiet flying, as usual. Sometimes Neltharion would hear people if the city was big enough, now he was flying over the great sea, headed off to the blackrock where his eldest son was hiding away.

The blot his shadow made was magnificent, there was already a party waiting for him at his sons castle. Neltharion quickly shifts and drops to the ground, dusting off his armour as he allowed the guards to escort him.

Inside it was black, molten and ugly. The guards took him all the way to the throne where his son stood, looking at parchments "father" he says with a tone of indifference "to what do I owe this visit?" Neltharion was unconcerned with his sons childish display of petulance "my new mate. Word has roamed about her conception" his son finally looks up with him. At the time of his birth Neltharion had chosen a human guise, there for his son became a man. Black haired and bearded with a white face and red eyes.

"I have heard rumours... it's true then?" He nods slowly circling to the other side of his son, standing far back "yes, I'm sure you know why I have come here" Nefarian scowls "so what Wraithion says is true. You're going to make that little halfbreed your heir-" "silence!" Neltharion's voice booms, smoke arising from his mouth and nose with each exhale "do well to remember that you live because I allow it" there was a tight expression and angry eyes cast at him, but Neltharion did not care.

"Don't be boring" Nefarian snaps, clutching the parchment to ruin "is it love father? Did you fall in love with a mortal?" He spits the word like poison "why else would you make her your mate and crown her queen? She carries your seed so you come begging-" Neltharion blasts him with powerful magic, sending the princeling flying across the room, skidding against the rock floor "threaten, boy. I came to threaten. The halfbreed will be king of the black flight, a mortals son- and you, you will do nothing but rot here." There was a sick smile crossing the aspects face.

"Or I will flatten this hovel and burn your subjects and present your head to my new mate" there was deep hatred burning in his sons eyes as Neltharion turns away "send for that little whelp of mine, I wish to see him at my castle- oh and do behave."


Neltharion his eldest would not stand to be ruled by Asch's child, knew that he would curse his father and plan little offensives. It would be entertaining to see, he rather disliked the little whelp, always so entitled, fault of his mother. The consort believed their son would be king since it was Neltharion's first. First or last, it was meaningless now. Asch was his queen, mate and his baby would be crown prince. Whatever they make after this child would have more claim to the crown then his previous children.

When he arrived Asch was happy to see him, pink and excited, happy that he told her that he fixed it with Nefarian. Alex knew tenant fix meant and gave him a exhausted look "thank you sister for staying with her" Neltharion kisses her cheek "my pleasure. I hope you will have me again soon, the baby's life energy is very pleasant and happy" Neltharion was glad to hear and promised his sister more invites while letting her out.


When he returned Asch looked uncomfortable, fidgeting "darling?" He asks, watching her "they... they're moving?" Neltharion rushes to her, excited to feel the baby. "Ah" he says warmly, they were kicking "here" his hand grabs hers, moving it right under his where he felt he kicks. Asch bursts into tears, giggling as the kicks persisted. "Ohh hello there" she coos, Neltharion smiles "ah my love I have something to ask of you" she says, whipping her tears away "yes?"

"May we visit my parents? Before the baby comes I'd like to see them" Neltharion ponders her request "yes of course, after my son comes here- don't worry it's my youngest. He's adept at magic, but far more limited then I. He won't hurt you or the baby" Asch sighs, agreeing to his terms

Chapter 23: Varian dabbles 3

Summary:

Varian Wrynn/Original female character

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

 

Varian waits at the stables with Asch as their horses were being saddled. Today Varian wasn't wearing anything heavy. Light linens and fluffed pants. Asch was in leather pants and a sensable shirt.

Varian's horse was massive, black and imposing, it had taken a very long time to break it. Now Varian was the only one able to ride it. The horse Asch was given was mild, and sweet, white as her hair. His horse, Ominous shook his head, breathing heavily. Pera, Asch's horse huddled next too it.

Pera was the only mare that Ominous accepted, and the two had made many foals. Asch gasps, looking at his stallion, Ominous was easy with Varian around. Asch pets the muzzle of the monstrous horse as Varian watched them, a smile on his face. "Have you seen much of Elwynn Forest?" Asch looks back at him curiously, "No, but I heard it's very beautiful." Varian hasn't been riding in ages, the forest hasn't changed much but still it would be good to see it. Both of them were so busy, after this week Varian was going to be swamped with work as was Asch. Though, if she liked his company as much as Varian did hers, they would make it work.

Varian mounted his horse, watching as she tested the reins. Pera was a sweet horse and did as told while Ominous reared and snorts, becoming impatient. Varian usually rode him hard, racing to the coast and back, to the end of Redridge or Duskwood. The horse was fearless when it came to giant spiders and bandits.

Today however Ominous would walk, at most trot. Today he wasn't in a rush. "Shall we?"

The forest was thick, the hills were lush and Asch let the wind blow through her hair. "Where did you come from, originally?" Surprise that Varian didn't have time to ask her any of this at the gala. Besides being bombarded by guests and their silly dip in the lake.

"My parents lived here in Stormwind, but I was born in Dalaran. They live there and manage a enchanting shop" Varian hums as they pass many guard patrols, both nodding as they went by. All the guards saluted. As they reach a surrounded clearing, the brush thick, Varian halted, enjoying the seclusion.

Asch bit her lip, watching his hair rustle in the breeze.

"Varian," she whispers, despite her nervousness. "Yes?" Asch was hoping he didn't hear her. "I have... I- is this okay?" The king regards her, confused by her words "I mean... us- doing things like this? Won't... I know the people love their queen..." Asch was certainly no Tiffin, no mother of Anduin or original queen of Stormwind. There was only two ways this could go, either Varian went forward with her, getting married and all, or it stopped now. There couldn't be any in between, not with the ruler of the Alliance.

The king looks at her strangely for a long time, probably realizing the same thing. Then he sighs loudly, drawing his horse to close the distance.

"I know the position this puts you in," Asch would be called a social climber, that she was trying to erase Tiffin. Asch didn't want to replace her, destroy her memory.

"I will put my best effort, if you will."


Asch listens to his words, repeats them in her head many times, before answering, "Okay." Varian smiles at her.

Notes:

EDITED
JANUARY 22, 2019

Chapter 24: Lor'themar dabbles 1

Summary:

:O ohhh look a gay chapter!
Lor'themar Theron/Original Male bloodelf

Chapter Text

Lor'themar was bored. Khadgar's new Dalaran had no new charms and he lothed being here. Tidying up for the warchief because she didn't like it here either. Only difference was she had to authority to make other people go in her absence. Lor'themar could have said no, but he heard talk of how angry it made that witch Proudmoore that Horde we're still allowed on her city. Didn't seem to be her city now.

Sighing, he drank his heady beverage, one that he shouldn't be having so early in the morning. Of course he'd stink of alcohol, but it didn't bother him or what people thought.

Asher went on his day, tired as usual but still pushing. He had attended two meetings so far, one during a ungodly period of the morning and there were still three more. One about weapons, one with his officers and the last with his quartermaster about getting his saddle fixed.

"Highlord" Asher snaps up, staring completely confused. Their faces grow annoyed "were you listening?!" Asher couldn't pretend, the answer was obvious to all of them, so he shrugs, smiling bashfully. "Sir this is important! You're the one who decides the outcome!" Last he remembers they were taking about troops and deployment "we've got eighty ready men, send them to Illidan. He'll make good use of them." Asher waves it off, "he's not foolish either. Then send the new batch to Ladrian- she'll be happy we thought of her" Asher was impatient at best most times, others he was snappy and easily bored. Not perfect qualities for a Highlord, but he held Ashbringer.

"Uh.. yes Highlord". They all seemed to have had enough of it, but Asher wasn't interested in their plights. If it were later in the day and he'd gotten sleep, this would have very different. Asher was a good leader, his father made sure he was, but he had been up since four this morning, and yesterday fought on the shore helping war efforts. He was exhausted and frankly wanted a day off.

Asher was a strong man, easily bested many of the champions that came through. He held his hair up in a high foxtail and had no beard. His skin was pink and his eyes like very few of his people were a beautiful luminescent blue. His mother and father were one of handfusl of high elves left. It often caused friction with the Horde and who he dealt with, but he honoured the warchief and he assumed that was all that mattered. Many times he's spoken to Sylvanas and they had a mutual liking. She noted his eyes and call him refreshing.

From then on when she dealt with Paladins she only wished to deal with him, said to him personally over a dinner one day, he felt very honoured and said as much, but she claimed only because he wasn't pompous like the rest of them. Asher chose to take it as a compliment.

Asher didn't dare think of himself as a blood elf, they wouldn't allow it, but he did think of them as his own people, even if they didn't. "Well Highlord, I suppose that's all..." his officer muses "but, please if you can deliver this to Lord Lor'themar. Sylvanas requested it" Asher yanks the heavy stack of tied notes, all addressed to their warchief. One bad thing about being her favourite Paladin was having to do all the meaningless work. "I'll do it now-" "ah and there is a gala, for all the horse leaders, you were invited by the warchief" ah, yes Asher was expecting her to do so. That woman needed to find more people she could tolerate. It was running him ragged.

"Mhm best deliver this then. When is this gala?"

"Tonight sir" Asher rolls his eyes, sighing "what I would give to be simple. Meeting over, I'll see you in an hour for the next" many people laughed at his tone, but he was serious about being simple. How easy would it be to rub a silk shop rather then an army. Asher blamed his noble father, getting him all excited about holy powers and vanquishing demons. Mother didn't like it too much, even less when his silly father died and became a death knight. Still he was a happy old man and was proud of his son. Mother joked about the rotting smell and that Asher should visit more, get his father off her back, but she loved him anyway and still kissed his face.

Surprisingly the old goat wasn't rotting like all people said about death knights, nothing on them rotted away, his heart stopped beating but he was the same righteous soldier. Frisky too, a reason Asher didn't visit. That was nothing he wanted any part of, even when his father was breathing. "Blood doesn't stop flowing boy" that phrase still haunts him to this day "give me grandchildren before I give you a brother who will" her mother told him that was impossible now, it didn't make him feel better.

They had known from the day he was born that wives and women weren't his interest, their husbands however... his parents care little for who he found himself in bed with, or even marry. Although Asher didn't think that would be in his cards seeing as how people viewed his affliction. After highelves joined with blood they stopped being so loose and uncaring, it became very taboo for women to be with women or men with men and even sexual actions, whether straight or not was vetoed and shameful. Asher listened to his father talk about the days before all that, his mother had quite the adventures too. Neither of them were ashamed, even laughed about it with each other. It was a very bazar dinner conversation.

 

Asher grew up seeing it be shamed and scared himself out of finding a mate, didn't even know how hard it would be to seek someone like him out. Hoenstly, he didn't know where to begin. His parents hated how closeted he was, begging him to forget about their prejudices and just be what he was, but he always told them it wasn't like their time, he couldn't just be with a man, no matter how much he longed for it.

No one knew besides them, everyone thought he was still looking, some even offered their daughters. Asher didn't even have a preference when it came to their race and the alliances. Human, elf or even Tauren it didn't matter. It just couldn't be a woman. It was awkward, he was handsome and pretty girls always came to him, twirling their hair and batting their eyes, one insistent human cornered him and kissed him, Asher bolted as soon as he could, since then no one was so bold, but he always feared their would be one or two more like that girl.

What came as a bigger surprise to Asher was just how many of those girls were alliance. Father told him it was because most of the remaining people went to the alliance side and just assumed because of his heritage that Asher was too, but even when he told them none cared. He was always to handsome, they said, that they could overlook it because of his nice body. The shocking amount of nightelven women that showed their interest baffled him, Asher was tall for his races people, but not nearly as tall as a night elf. Humans were very intrigued by him as well, always saying if it worked for Vereesa. Asher always pointed out she was the elf, but they just laughed and always touched him.


Of course a small part of him wanted his own kind, but at this point Asher was just looking for companionship, someone who would just love him.

Asher just wanted what his parents had. Sometimes he thought about just finding a girl and throwing himself aside to have a family, his parents joked about it but would be very angry with him if he did so. In fact, his father always told him about the man that almost changed his life. An army buddy, father wouldn't tell him who. But in the war they shared a tent, and in that tent they spent hours together, years even. No one cared they were men, it was normal, it was happening all over the camp. They spent so much time in fact, his father almost married him. Loved him even to this day, his mother wasn't jealous, she thought it was sweet and his father thought she was amazing all because of it.

Still, he wouldn't have changed his mind about mother, they met after the war and he was just as in love.


Asher thinks fondly of his parents as he leaves, riding his golden charger up to the citadel. Dismounting as thy opened the doors Asher grabbed his stack of orders and climbed the steps, only halting to ask one of the on duty guards where he could find Lor'themar. Asher didn't talk much to the regent lord, barely saw him since he wasn't allowed in the city. It was rare that Lor'themar was even here. All his time was put to bettering his people and caring for other things. But there was no surprise he was Sylvanas errand boy, Asher was one himself.

Finding him was easy enough, the other elf was sitting in a chair, drinking whisky or some other dark alcohol, looking just as tired as Asher. "Regent lord" Asher bows politely, Lor'themar eyes him, like a shark eyes up dinner. It unsettled Asher but he persisted, still clutching the stack of papers.


Lor'themar wasn't sure what he was looking at, Sylvanas said she had another pet but he wasn't aware she liked the company of Paladins, she didn't even like his company that much, yet she trusted this one with letters of importance. Lor'themar figures the other elf didn't even notice the bold letters, confidential, scrawled across the front.

The young elf peers up, oh. A highelf, that must be why. Quickly the eyes shoot away, Lor'themar chuckles at this "don't be so sheepish, we are equals you and I" yes, this pet, the little elf she spoke of that made her smile. This must have been him. The highelf was fit, his armour held his form well and made him look very regal, very handsome.

The other elf looks up at him, straightening as if he'd snapped out of his shyness by mere words. Lor'themar smirked at the confidence "what is your name?" The regent lord knew of the new Highlord, knew he held esteem with their warcheif but knew little else "Asher, sir" curious little thing this highelf was, still a member of the horde dispite his people flocking to the alliance "curious indeed" Lor'themar muses aloud, now completely interested in the absolutely delicious elf before him.

"I was told to deliver these to you, that you would see them given to the warchief" Asher hands them to Lor'themar, "I would see them to her. She'll be very happy too have her files. Since she waited so long to get them" she'd been raving about how the fools in Dalaran lost her paper work, Lor'themar had to hear about it over seven times. "O-Oh I wasn't-" the pretty elf flushes, Lor'themar waves him off "not your fault I assure you- now shoo, little Highlord. We're both busy men" winking at the baffled elf Lor'themar gets up to leave, watching the look of shock and confusion cross Asher's face. Sylvanas will be excited to hear about this.

Chapter 25: Lor'themar dabbles 2

Summary:

Lor'themar Theron/Original Male bloodelf

Chapter Text

Asher got dressed for the party, he wore his painted armour, hating every second of it. Some of the officers tried to sneak an invitation, flirting with him and mentioning it. If Asher didn't find it amusing he would have shrivered like a raisin. He said no, Sylvanas wouldn't like him bringing no names to her party.

The journey there was teadious since he wasn't allowed to ride his own horse. Undercity smelt as welcoming as Asher remembered, burnt death and wet dog.


Asher as shocked to see just who all came. Thrall and his mate had made it, despite all the problems he was having personally. Blaine Bloodhoof was standing in a corner, looking rather unsettled and lastly, Asher found the regent lord.

Looking right at him.

Asher felt his throat run dry, the green of his eye shined as he tipped his head to whisper something to Sylvanas. "Asher!" The dark lady waves him over. Quickly he goes, but it feels like a trap.
"Hello my lady" Asher was polite, even though Sylvanas hates it. "I assume you've met?" Asher nods "ah good-" she goes right into conversation, ignoring the fact Lor'themar was staring right at Asher, he's so nervous that he can hardly understand what's she's talking about.

"Asher" Sylvanas scowls at being interrupted "y-yes...?" "Would you like to dance?" The dark lady rolls her eyes, Asher feels his face flush "but.. but we can't" Lor'themar looks puzzled by that "of course we can, you can dance can't you? All paladins should know how to dance!" Asher weakly nods, yes he did know how to dance "you're... you're a man" Sylvanas actually laughs, watching the two "yes and? You can lead if you like" Asher flintches, "no you're... we can't I'm... we can't" it finally seemed to click and Lor'themar huffs, scowling angrily "do you want to dance with me?"

"Yes... I-I do..."

"Then we will dance and you don't have to worry, now come along."

Asher lifts his hand and as quickly as he offers it, it's snatched and Sylvanas is laughing as Asher is forced stumbling on the floor. Lor'themar is unashamed and paws at him, grabbing his waist "I was kidding about you leading" his breath is hot against Asher's skin. Everyone around them were couples, men and women. Everyone was looking at them. "I like the colour of your hair" Lor'themar says, distracting him "snow white. Mothers or fathers?"

"F-Father" Lor'themar hums pleasantly, spinning the elf "you shouldn't be so nervous, it's just dancing" Asher wanted to take comfort in those words, but found none as he caught eyes with a rather disgusted Orc, showing her displeasure obviously on her fowl face. "Not to them" Lor'themar shrugs, pulling him in closer. "One so pretty shouldn't be so shy" Asher never thought of himself as shy. Girls called him shy, but that was because he rejected them and they assumed he was being bashful.

"Are you... do you-" "do men? Not recently but yes" Lor'themar chuckles, dipping his hand dangerously down the small of Asher's back, shoving him into his chest "do you?" Asher couldn't find a good place to put his hands, fumbling around the regent lords shoulders, he felt a rush of dizziness. Lor'themar was bigger then he was, broader even without the armour. The lazy smirk plastered on his face was handsome "I... I like men yes" it felt horrid to finally say it aloud, Asher was terrified that it was a trick, a ploy, Lor'themar was going to make fun of him. Asher waited, but was only met with a softer smile.

"Perfect, would you like to keep dancing?"

"Very much so, yes" it felt like a weight was pressed to his chest, but being there, in the arms of the regent lord, he felt safe.

Sylvanas watches with mild interest, she should have never let Lor'themar near Asher. If she had known he'd grow to fancy the little Paladin she would have kept them apart... still, it had been long since she saw the elf so happy, maybe she'd relent a little, let the lord have his fun.


Lor'themar couldn't stop staring at his eyes, beautiful and blue and darting around like he was on trial. Scared, that was obvious. Asher had plump little lips and Lor'themar wanted to kiss them raw. Although Asher didn't look the type to fuck and forget, he barely looked the type to fuck at all, with how red he was getting at every sultry comment. It bothered him a bit how terrified Asher actually looked about the whole thing. They were around the same age, Lor'themar was brought up to believe whoever he enjoyed was natural, the world did not see it as so, but who was to stop him, the regent lord and Horde faction leader?

"Come, why don't we go find drinks and sit?" Asher nods very quickly, Lor'themar takes him away, hailing for drinks. The elf found a hidden booth, making sure the poor Paladin was tucked away before attempting to sit anywhere near him. "May I say you are very cute?" Lor'themar was teasing, but he really meant it, Asher had a feminine curve to his back, strong shoulders and a lovely ass. Lor'themar wanted to devour him.

"T-Thank you" Lor'themar chuckles, pulling Asher so he was flush to his side. Everything he had heard about the high elf he squeezed out of Sylvanas last minute. She has suspected he liked men, was very smart and proud in battle. Nothing shook him and under pressure he thrived, yet what replaced him was timid and meek. Lor'themar didn't mind it, liked how easily he could get a blush out of him in fact, but it upset him to think he was scared to show his attraction and Lor'themar knew he was.


Lor'themar had many partners, some that lasted years, ones he thought about mating and marrying even. Asher however probably just admitted he liked men for the first time. "So how goes the fight?" Lor'themar was prone to scaring off partners by either going to fast or not fast enough. Asher was easily spooked, so he chose a neutral topic, one Asher knew lots about. "Exhausting" he mutters "we get little advances day by day, but it's slow. Just yesterday I pushed my squad into taking four footholds, securing it for supplies... my bones haven't ached like this in years" Lor'themar hisses, knowing exactly what that felt like. Sylvanas kept him busy, off the battlefield. For now at least she needed him where he was, sending supplies and troops.

"Impressive, I bet they didn't like that" Asher snorts, looking more relaxed then he had been a moment ago "I thought they were going to string me up and leave me but I'm told those supplies helped" Asher had many accolades and achievements, being the front of their armies and helped avert many potential tragedies. He was at Hellfire, the siege, the fall of deathwing. This little Paladin had been part of it all. And he was still impressing the world.


"Sylvanas speaks very highly of you" Lor'themar understood why, "it's a great honour" the regent lord hums, "am I your first?" Asher almost choked, but Lor'themar laughed, correcting himself "first interested party?" By default he'd be answering both, but Asher suspected he wanted to know that anyway "yes... I admit it was surprise" Lor'themar got that a lot, he assumed Asher did as well. "Glad that it was, the look on your face was precious" Lor'themar adored making him blush.

"How... did you know?" Lor'themar snorts "you don't even look at the women. You're very bad at pretending" and Asher was far too pretty to like women. "Don't worry it's not that obvious" Asher looked relieved. "The party seems to be aging quite terribly" Lor'themar muses, overlooking the rest of the room, Sylvanas was no where to be found and many of the important people were gone as well, only handfuls of couples left were dancing and the food was diminishing "what do you say to dinner? Tomorrow night. Will you be staying here? I know a lovely inn not far from here" Lor'themar blamed Sylvanas for making him come here all the time, but eventually even the city of the dead had its charms.

"Oh... Yes Sylvanas wanted me to look over some plans she had I'll be here for a couple of days" excellent. Lor'themar grins widely "it's a date then!"


Asher had no idea how he managed to get himself in such a predicament. Lor'themar was handsome, no doubt about that. He was very smart and interesting and everything Asher was looking for in a mate, but it was terrifying. Pitifully enough, he wanted to talk to his mother. Tell her how exciting and nerve wrecking it all was. A man was interested in him, interested in taking him to dinner. Lor'themar Theron of all people as well. Mother would be squealing and his father would make fun of him and make jokes that were too sexual. Above all else they would be very happy.


Asher wasn't sure how to dress. Every function he attended required him to wear armour. Asher had no idea what he was suppose to wear. It was dinner, so something nice- Asher didn't even think he owned nice. "Gah!" He huffs, ruffling his fluffy hair. Asher, after fifth teen minutes decided on a simple black shirt and pants. That would be good enough, he hoped at least.


Lor'themar was meeting Asher here, he stood waiting, leaning on pillar, eyeing people as they went. He chose not to hide, knowing no one would bother him. "Lor'themar!" Asher had a distinct voice, a honey milk tone with just enough roughness. The regent lord found him instantly.

Lor'themar was struck, staring clearly as he made it over, how could he be so pretty? "Hi..." he says shyly, his hair was down, a curtain of snow around his shapely face "hello" Lor'themar practically purrs, already reaching to touch him. Asher allowed it, Lor'themar could feel him go hot against his finger tips, Asher had such soft, plush skin. It was the same shade of sun kiss as Lor'themar's own "come, dinner" Lor'themar dropped his hand only slightly, bidding Asher to take it.


The people around them were watching, Asher could feel it under his skin, but a more bold and desperate part took hold of the lager hand. Lor'themar grins at him, tugging Asher along. The inn was very little and had a handful of people, one the keeper, a minstrel and cooks behind the bar "finest wine thank you" Lor'themar requests, ushering Asher to a table. It was in the back, secluded and secretive. As if they were going to divulge secrets rather then eat dinner.

"They have excellent soup" Lor'themar tells him, smiling in just a way that made his eye shine. Asher had never seen Lor'themar without the small brown patch covering his dead eye. It made him wonder if it was just unseeing, or not there at all. Lor'themar noticed his wondering gaze, brow tilting in question. "O-Oh sorry..." the other elf laughs at him, flicking his hair away from his shoulder "no, please it's only fair" Asher colours "I can't help stare at you either" Asher wasn't sure if he was being serious, or just trying to flatter him.

"So... um- how many men have you..." he trails off, not sure how to ask, "naughty boy- I don't think I'll tell you that" Asher squeaks indignantly "no no I meant-" "only teasing gorgeous. I've been with three. My last relationship ended two years ago or so" Lor'themar wasn't completely sure how long it had actually been, but last he recalled he stopped getting regular sex around that amount of time. "And you?" Asher gulps, shaking his head "I've never..." "ah I'll be the first to court you, how exciting" Asher always got so dizzy when he spoke like that.

It was almost a struggle to say "c-court me?" Lor'themar nods, holding his comment as the server brings the wine and glasses "two of your soups thank you" the lady bows politely leaving quickly "of course, every person I take interest in isn't just a fad or fancy- now tell me what you do for fun?"

Asher had listened to his soldiers talk about taking their girls out places, walks, dinner and dancing. Not even for a second did he consider he could have that too. It was bazar. Lor'themar let him talk, liked listening to him talk about his strange father who inspired him into becoming a Paladin, or his sweet mother who still loved the death knight her husband became.

"Do your parents know?" Asher nods "they encouraged it." Their food arrived and none too surprisingly Asher loved it. They chatted meaninglessly between eatting and by the end of it, Lor'themar could admit he was a little drunk.

Form the stale pink on Asher's cheeks he was too. Lor'themar didn't intend to get the poor thing drunk. "When did you find out? That you liked men?" Lor'themar's lips twitch into a grin "ever since I was young. How about you?"

"A girl kissed me and it felt wrong... ever since I've been attracted to... men" Lor'themar hums, "would you like to go for a walk?"

"Yes" Asher jolts, a small part of him was annoyed by Lor'themar paying for him, like he was the woman, but another liked it a little.

Chapter 26: Neltharion dabbles 5

Summary:

Neltharion/Original female high elf

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Neltharion sits behind his wife, cradling her belly as the guards brought his youngest spawn, Wrathion. The sly little whelp was devilish and sneaky, far to amused by human affairs. He fixes his coat, smiling presently "a pleasure, my Queen" flattery, Wrathion was ever the charmer.

"Hello" Asch nods, folding her own hands across her belly, as if trying to hide it. "I honestly didn't expect you to come" Neltharion muses, raising a long brow. Wrathion seats himself across, picking at the fruits Neltharion had set out for Asch. "Well dear father, I cannot rightly ignore such a summons" very true. Neltharion would have hunted him down and forced him to be pleasant, although, his child did have love for mortals, for whatever reason. Neltharion suppose he shouldn't be so judgemental, since he was lovingly holding someone who themselves used to be.

"For the new mother" a puff of black smoke and through the magic came a neatly folded blanket "enchanted Windwool, it will never get dirty" Asch plucks it, examining it with her fingers, smiling "ah thank you" "the pleasure is mine" Neltharion squints "you know father, I quite like this look for you," he makes a gesture toward his ears, tugging his own for show, "elves are so beautiful, I can see why you choose her to be Queen." Neltharion rolls his eyes "you want something, don't you?" Rarely did his son ever come to him without his own agenda.

Wrathion smirks lightly, laughing at his fathers statement "admittedly? Yes, don't I always?" There was no use in lying about it, Neltharion was in a good enough mood to hear his sons request. Out of all his children, Wrathion was the least bothersome, he was clever enough to get what he wanted on his own, it was only the third time now he had come seeking his father for something.


"Though it has been my pleasure to be here, I would enjoy staying despite asking for your assistance" Neltharion waves his hand "yes fine, now what is it you want?" For the first time his child hesitates, looking rather nervous "well you see. There is the mortal, a boy" Neltharion knew of his sons tastes in men, did not care. "A very sweet boy I've come to attach myself too... I ask you to grant him the dragon life, not one so powerful as immortal, just... I do not want to see him perish from age." Neltharion blinks, actually bewildered by the request, there is such a spell, a weaker version of what was given to Asch. Still he sat there surprised.

"Who is this boy?" Asch asks, she sounds intrigued by his tale, "his name is Anduin Wrynn, the prince of Stormwind" there is a blush on his sons dark cheeks. "Why in all hells have you toyed around with the Wrynn whelp?!" Neltharion was more confused than anything else, he sounded mad and Asch scowls back at him, already smitten with Wrathion's little sob story. The whelp will get what he wants, if only because Asch would be cross with Neltharion if he didn't allow it. Still, he wants his questions answered.

"I confess it was an accident, hardly my fault. He is rather precious to me" his son was brutally honest, vulnerable even. Neltharion wanted to snap at him for such weakness, but he would be a hypocrite in doing so. "Does he know what you are asking of me? What of his father and their succession line?" Every good parent should challenge their children's decisions, make certain they themselves have run down every avenue of possibility.

"He knows I'm here asking, and he will provide a child we shall raise" it sounds needlessly complex, but he sees no reason to say no. "His father knows... something?" Wrathion sounds uncertain, "I've left that to Anduin too explain..." he doesn't look all to pleased about that. All his children had an urge to control everything. A hopeless trait gained from their father.


"Mhm... fine boy, you may have your way" Wrathion looks very happy, "I'll make it ready tonight. How long will you stay?" Wrathion thinks for a moment. "Well. I would like to bring my mate here" Neltharion snorts, "he's your mate now?" Asch smacks him "we would love to have him" Wrathion grins, "thank you mother" Asch jolts in Neltharion's lap at this, he nuzzles her hair "you are technically the mother of my flight." Just as Neltharion was father. But this was his child, a direct descendant, it was rather impressive that Wrathion regarded her as his mother. He never even called his actual birth mother as such.

Perhaps it was a show of gratitude, but Wrathion wouldn't do it for something so simple, no, maybe it was genuine show of emotion and love. Wrathion did seem very happy in the moment.

"If it is alright of course, we will stay for the birth of my new sibling" Asch claps her hands, excited herself by the idea. "Oh I would love that!" Tomorrow they would be off to see her parents in Dalaran, one of the last trips before she was to stay at home. They knew she was coming and were very honored to host Neltharion. His son would have to amuse himself with something while they were away, by shear coloring in his face, he assumed his mate would be such distraction.


Wrathion left to go retrieve his little mortal as Neltharion helped his mate up, "he wasn't as bad as you said" she scolds, Neltharion hums shaking his head. "The trouble he liked to cause was more political than destructive. I favor him more than the rest." Asch leans into him, lately it hurt her feet to walk and they swelled easily. Neltharion insisted she allow him to carry her, but Asch wasn't having it.

"Still, he's sweet- although... what did you look like to make him look like that?" Neltharion snorts, "a human, his mother was the coloring." Asch hums, considering this "I wonder if the baby will look like me more then you..." All his children looked more like him then their mothers, but that was sheer luck, mostly because he had chosen more bazaar features such as dark skin or Neltharaku, who was mutated beyond himself, but if he remembers correctly, Neltharaku was pale as moon light with brown hair.

"They will be beautiful regardless" that makes Asch smile. "Nel will you calm the baby? They're kicking and I'm tired," Neltharion's favorite duty was to coo at her belly. "Of course."


Morning after Wrathion bid them farewell, waving them off as he stood with the little blonde prince. "He's very cute" Asch giggles, looking at the two. "Who?" Neltharion scrunches his nose, "oh look" black dragons were always so possessive. Wrathion had a leeching hold on the poor boy, who looked quite embarrassed by his sons actions.

"Mhm yes, very sweet. Lets go now." Asch giggles at her mate, laughing even as they step into Dalaran. Asch's parents were waiting by the portals. It was evident which pair were hers by the sudden squeaking and excitement "my baby!" Asch seemed to have gotten her beautiful white hair from her father. Her mother had fair, very nice golden blonde.

"Papa!" Neltharion lets her go, watching her mother carefully embrace her daughter, her father however saunters over too him, bowing his head in respect. "My King," Neltharion waves him off "Neltharion please" the Elf looks shocked by this, "ah, Neltharion then. I am Cadiea and my wife, Mizpah." Neltharion liked how exotic Elves choose their names to be.

"You look so beautiful," her mother says, examining her belly. "When are you due?" She asks, "in a few days we think" her mother let out excited squeaks as her father chuckles. "Miz loves babies" Neltharion hums, "an exciting time then." Black dragons also adored babes, they were so few and any hatchling that survived was well looked after. It must be why Wrathion was so sweet earlier. Even he liked babies.

Alex and her flight would be excited about it as well, being Lifebinders, it was so important to have these mating seasons, especially for Black and Bronze. Noz and his mate were hopefully carrying, it boosted the flights morale to know their rulers were expecting.

"We are excited to see your child" Cadiea frowns a little in question "it's not a whelp?" Neltharion shakes his head "no, it appears to be an elf. We've yet to see any mutations." Alex said it was growing perfectly, like any normal baby. "Even if it were, a blessing all the same," Asch's people only wanted to serve dragons. Asch was Queen, her parents were unimaginably proud.

"Darling?" Neltharion calls, both mother and daughter look up at him, "we shouldn't keep you on your feet." Asch's mother coos at him, "he is right you've a little one, come come, let us eat!" Neltharion takes his wife in hand, holding her close as the guards, citizens and all manners of people start to look at the famed earth wanderer and his mate. It was equally exciting for them, a dragon in Dalaran. It was remarkable.

Asch looked very tired once they started moving, leaning heavily on Neltharion for support, even as they sat down. The baby even kicked a few times, aiming perfectly at her ribs and making her sore.

They spent most of the lunch talking about the baby, what Neltharion thoughts were on its potential abilities and maybe even what features it would carry. At the very least the child would have tougher skin and fangs, but it could have a tail, horns or claws. It could even have it all, but it would be loved all the same.

Asch only hoped for a healthy child, it would be since Alex would be present. That he was sure of.


When it came time to return home Asch bid her parents goodbye with long kisses and promises of having them over to see the baby. Neltharion didn't like that much, seeing as his customs didn't allow for any outsider to see their spawn until it was at least six months, even than that was a stretch. Neltharion would tell Asch about this, hoping she would understand, so far she was fair and agreeable about the customs, even the constant mating, he knew she was very annoyed by that at times, but still indulged him. Which was very sweet of her.

Wrathion and Anduin were playing a silly game his son had brought from another land when they came back. "Ah, hello father, mother" Wrathion bowed his head deeply, fully acknowledging them, Anduin did the same, slower and more confused but it still passed in proper respect.

"I will see Asch settled then we will see about your potion," Neltharion nudges his head, Wrathion knows immediately to follow, "I will return darling" he saying to the prince, smiling handsomely. Anduin looks like he doesn't know what to do with himself, but nods, eyes bulging wide. Neltharion rolls his eyes. Better he was uncomfortable in his castle then freely roaming about anyway.


Once out of ear shot, Neltharion snorts "he is very naive. But he is pretty- please tell me your infatuation is not so superficial," Wrathion laughs at his father, a cool sound and admittedly bubbly. Wrathion was sickeningly happy. "Of course not, he's clever in other ways, cunning even." Neltharion knew few things about his son, but what he did was that Wrathion himself was dastardly tactic and ridiculously witty. If his son believes that boy to be cunning then Neltharion believed him.

"Not a fad then?" Asch speaks up, sounding awfully cynical and dare say like Neltharion himself. He smirks at his mate, "oh no mother no, I've bitten him. I love him very much" Asch coos, adoring his words "he must be something." His son was frivolous with many things, mates and commitment being one for so long, although it wouldn't be hard to undo the effects of the potion, tedious maybe, but not set in stone.

Neltharion makes Asch comfortable in the pillows, making sure she was well off before turning his attentions to the whelp "I trust you know what I need" Neltharion goes to work, staring the fire for the boiling and grabbing his vials, Wrathion quickly sets off to the shelves, collecting the ingredients for him in record time.

"So mother," Wraithion says, now having nothing to do "what are you hoping for?" Wrathion and Neltharion both knew the child would be a boy, but the earth wanderer d not elect to tell her that.


"Oh I suppose a boy, like all Queens" she giggles, head leaning into her hand. Asch looked very comfortable "where's Anduin? He could have sat with me" Neltharion thought it would be a little strange to see his mate curled up with his sons, than again, he never bothered to meet his children's mates. "Amusing himself in our quarters I should think" Wrathion looked a little nervous about that, his father knew all too well how paranoid he must be. Black dragons do not like straying from their mate.


"We're almost done" Neltharion tells him, trying to comfort the whelp. It had been a while since he acted so nurturing, but more and more he remembered how much he actually liked his youngest. "Ah, goodness. I'm glad for that, they're kicking me again Nel" she shifts, making a face. Neltharion actually laughed, his son looked shocked by it "I will fix it soon my love" he just needed to wait for the potion to harden. Neltharion himself found it amusing that the baby would only halt its kicking mess if he was the one to calm it.

"Oh that reminds me- Wrathion." His son glances at his father, intrigued "who is this woman Anduin is suppose to father a child with?" Duty such as heirs was another matter for a dragon, Wrathion grins wildly "me, although we won't be telling his father that." Asch snorts "hmm clever. What if your baby looks like a dragon?" Wraithion shrugs "it won't be the first time there was a dragon in court." Ah, he meant his sister. Neltharion rolls his eyes, bottling the potion "there, have him drink the whole thing and watch him. Come to me if he gets sick." Wrathion dismisses himself without so much as a wave in thanks.

"Now let us see about you..."


Asch and Neltharion found it harder and harder to be intimate the bigger she got, but that didn't mean Neltharion didn't try to please her. The access was restricted for the both of them and she didn't like how far he was from her touch. The only way they could both have what desired was if Asch was in her side or in his lap. Asch still didn't like how exposed she was. Neltharion liked the angle and how deep he was inside her on the side.

Plus he got to nip at her knee and make her flustered. They weren't very close like this, but it was very pleasurable however. Asch was loud, louder then she usually was, pregnancy made her very sensitive. Neltharion had to be careful about how rough he was, especially since her chest got sore. Asch came with a loud whine, gushing against his thighs, Neltharion quickened, grunting as he came, pulling out and releasing on the sheets, now that she was pregnant she didn't much like him coming inside. It was a good habit, because of what followed "oh" it was a gasp, then her eyes widened, a slow hiss of pain "Nel-" Asch grunts "baby." Asch's water broke.


"It's alright Asch" he coos, moving off her "let me get you dressed and I will find my sister." The pain didn't hinder them yet, so Neltharion pushed his luck and took her to the birthing room, where the pillows and blankets were arranged like a nest "I will be right back. Our guards are just outside. Call Wrathion if you need someone." The last thing he did was kiss her calmly cheek before hurrying away to his portal Mage.

Notes:

EDITED
Aug 1/08

Chapter 27: Illidan dabbles 2

Summary:

Illidan Stormrage/original female nightelf

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Illidan had a hard time keeping up with all the new things. Tyrande was the first women he thought of, then his brother who was still married to her, but also was a sliver away from ruin at the hands of Xavius.

Khadgar who wasn't new, but he remembered many mages like him.

What he couldn't remember was seeing Asch. Now she was the second women he thought about. That women, the one who said she loved him, let him have his way with her and after, never saw her again.


Illidan knew she was alive, didn't know where she was, but from what he heard, she was an Archdruid. Asch wasn't here. She should have been here. "Does... does she know?" Khadgar pities him with a smile "she... left as the crystal broke... flew away to the order hall I assume" Illidan looks over the cliff, staring at the land he could not clearly see.

 

The demon took to the sky.


Illidan dare not enter the scared ground, but he could see her, hear her. Her magic was stronger. Her hair was long, almost touching the earth, as she walked flowers sprouted. Her staff was massive, vines and branches hung off the living wood. Her crown was tall, made of roots, mud, feathers and flowers.

Illidan remembered her as a fresh faced little girl, barely of age and looking to prove herself. Now she was grown, aged into her maturity. Her markings were white, shaped like leaves, they ran down her face and curled around her arms. Many elves didn't bother with their tattoos after their birthright. Asch was meant to be a healer, born to serve the mother moon and care for the earth. 

The dress she wore barely covered anything, made of leaves and moss, her shoulder guards were massive, wood carved too look like a bear, bird and cat. Asch was listening to a student, paying close attention to their needs and trailing along with them, pulling that massive staff with her, making flowers and grass sprout as she went.


Illidan wanted to touch her, smell the earth and mold that so often stunk up his brother.


Asch felt hallow, unsafe even in her own land. The young Druids asked her to show them her forms, Asch allowed it, seeing no fear in their eyes as they witnessed her change into a massive, certainly epic bear, black as ink and terrific. The students awed and felt her fur, suddenly she felt a chill, squinting her misty eyes, what she saw quaked her very being.

"Illidan."

Her students hadn't heard, Asch was grateful for it. Standing at his impressive height, on a leaning rock, cursing the ground was the eldest Stormrage twin. The half demon that destroyed her. Illidan was watching her, he was smiling at her with a sort of gentle gaze, as much of one he could muster with his smothering eyes.

Turning quickly she scared her students, Cenarius glances at her, worried at the commotion "I'll... I'll be back children" again she turns, taking off in a gust of wind that shook two students off their feet, they laughed, gasping at the sight.


Seeing her, take flight and speed her way too him, it was majestic. Illidan felt his heart tug as she landed, turning into a beautiful women before him. "They said you were there. At the fall." Asch prunes her lips, gripping her staff. It was twice her size. Then again, so was Illidan.
"I was. I left" Illidan scrunched his nose, puzzled by her words "why is that?" Asch leans on her inappropriately large staff "I wasn't needed." Illidan frowns, eyes boring into her behind his veil "that is a lie. Why did you leave?" Asch was never good at lying, not too him anyway.

"I didn't want to see you" Illidan was hurt "why?" He had never attached to someone like he had her, he had Tyrande. Except his brothers wife would never share his love, like Asch would. Asch didn't want to tell him the truth, didn't want to say how hurt she was that he left, how foolish she felt when she was finally told he was imprisoned, and still the amount of anger she had, thinking he'd gone off and abandon her. Illidan would know, he always knew if she lied. So Asch steeled herself, looking him dead in the face.


"I thought you left me" Illidan knew how that looked, taking her innocence and vanishing. After all the time they spent together he pined after Tyrande. Illidan always felt bad he couldn't give Asch the love she deserved. He wanted to know, small hope that his window hadn't been slammed shut. "I'm here now" Asch leans away from him glaring "here for who?" That stung him "for you, only you little elf" Asch allowed him to close the gap, gripping her staff, his hand encased it, holding tight as she trembled nervously "do you want me?" It wasn't a lustful question, it was vulnerable, scared even. Asch shutters out a low breath.

Illidan pulls her to his body, "you are all I want" that had been true, Illidan always loved her, when he was left to rot in his prison she was the last person he thought of before it went dark. Illidan made her let go of her staff, just so he could lay it down at their feet, as he closed the distance, he could smell beautiful flowers and fresh air, no mud or dirt. Asch leans into his touch, letting his clawed hand cradle her back. Asch's hand now twined together with his, gripping tightly, hanging in the air as he finally captures her lips, fondly realizing her time as a Druid changed the taste of her lips, cherries, apples, peaches. All kinds of fruit.

Illidan holds her, hiding her behind his massive wings, shielding them from the eyes of wanderers and nosy Druids. Illidan kisses her deeply, stealing her lips in effort to make up for all he had done, all the time wasted. Asch forced them apart, smacking her lips together, looking dazed "Illidan... it's been a very long time" regretfully it has. He nods, finding no way to disagree "but... but I'd like to pick it back up... from where we left off" Illidan remembers snarling at her and leaving, then never seeing her again.

Asch was naked, upset and he decided to leave. Illidan didn't imagine it would be quite where they left off. He had been cruel, terrible. "As would I, little elf" Asch was smiling, peaking around at his form, it occurred to him she may have never seen it up close, that this might be one of few times she's seen him like this. It was nice not to be met with disgust or fear.

"You can touch, you always could" that made her sputter, even thousands of years apart didn't seem to quill her shyness, Illidan adored that. Still, she embraces his words, touching the leathery wing hiding them away from the world, caressing it with her warm finger pads, going along a grove pattern. Illidan felt oddly like an animal being pet, but found it to be pleasant instead of demeaning. Asch had a wonderful look of curiosity as she trailed over his tattoos and brands, finally touching his face and the soft linen cloth that covered his eyes.

Asch poked it upward, peaking at his bare burnt eyes, if it wasn't for the shade of his wings it would have hurt terribly, but like all Druids her magic wasn't overbearing and Illidan could look upon her without a veil, it brightens, but does not hurt him. "Ah, still so pretty" she muses, blinking at his eyes, uncovering them fully. Illidan chuckles lowly, never had his eyes been considered pretty before "not as pretty as you, little elf" Illidan strokes a hand through her hair, accidentally weeding out hidden flowers and petals, Asch giggles as he stops, looking bashful "I can't seem to get them too stop" she says, pulling out a daisy "it just... happens now" a few more full flowers come tumbling out of her hair, petals and stems along with it. Illidan snorts, watching it puddle around their feet, flowers and grass over-growing below.

"Mhm seems we have a meadow" Asch bends, looking at her hidden feet and all the overgrowth, laughing brightly as it winds around Illidan, almost consuming his hooves "so..." she says, looking back at him, "where is home?" Illidan didn't know how to answer, he didn't have a home, not one he knew of. Illidan figured he would stay on the broken shore, sleeping with the soldiers, "there isn't one" Illidan knew what she was leading up too, but he wanted her to say it. Asch nervously picks at the flowers seemingly coming out of thin air, pulling some free before responding "well... we said we'd pick up... I have a home- in the Dreamgrove... if you want to come live there... oh unless that's too much" Illidan stops her with a peck on the cheek, "if you aren't mad at me anymore?" Asch shakes her head, gripping his hand tightly.


"I'll be happy too, show me the way."

 

Druids turned out to be very interested in the demon hunter taking residence with their Archdruid, some were weary of him, others fine with his presence. A few however, did not like him at all and thought he was a omen and a plight upon the grove. Cenerius was one of those few. When Illidan appeared Asch was pulled aside and spoken too, Illidan was left to stand there and gather dust. By the end they both came back, huffing and Asch pulled him along to her home.

It was modest, the door was always open and the bed was big enough for three. Her kitchen held lots of dry goods. It occurred to Illidan that he had never seen his brothers home, where he and his sister lived. "Well this is it" her massive staff was put to the side, gathering vines and flowers, making the house smell even more lovely. "I like it very much" his horns got stuck in some hanging vines, but they managed and if that was to be his worst problem, Illidan could live with it.

It was far better then going to his demon hunters and their hovel, he already had to check on them often enough he considered himself their babysitter, sleeping there would be horrid. At least here he could smell flowers and hold the beautiful women who made them. It wasn't hard to notice the flowers changed depending on her moods. When she was angry marigolds fell from her hair, those flowers represented grief and jealously. Now little petals from roses swayed to the ground, sprouting through the wood even.

Illidan knew what that meant and smirked.

Asch felt a little cornered as Illidan closed the gap, "I have missed you very much" he coos, pulling her against him "I've missed you too" Illidan's wings fluttered out, hiding them from the open door, but the problem with an open door was...

That it was an open door.

"Asch?!" Illidan knew that voice, hated the sound of it. Illidan's wings twitched harshly, flapping in the confined space before he nestled them, turning as Asch looked away, still in his arms "Mal!" Malfurion. The other Stormrage brother, standing there with his twig horns and chicken wings. On his arm, stood Tyrande. Illidan didn't even jolt at her presence, didn't even give her the satisfaction of acknowledging her.

Asch rested heavily on him, actually happy how indifferent he felt toward the two. "I had heard my brother would be here... but" Mal began, staring at the two in their compromising position, staring at all the roses and coriander sprouting. Coriander meant lust. Mal frowns lightly "good surprise as any too see you Mal" Asch says kindly "yes quite the surprise" Tyrande sounded disgusted, she always did sound disgusted when it came to Illidan. It was evident for a long time she hated the very sight of him. Illidan figured she was repulsed by his form, it would be logical, but it hurt a little to think she did. After all they had been family for so long, now by marriage.

Illidan kept Asch against him, angered by their equally shared disgust. "It shouldn't be" he hisses "it has been thousands of years since I've seen my mate." Asch tenses at the use of the word, but it appeared as though she liked it very much, considering just how many flowers were spurting up from the woodwork. Tyrande and Mal also flinch at it, showing their obvious disapproval.

"Yes well... we have some things to discuss with you Asch" Malfurion grunts, shifting his feet "o-oh I... I didn't know" Illidan snaps finally, showing his growing annoyance "it's of no importance. It can be done later, now leave us. I was busy." The two other elves don't know what to say to that, but Illidan makes it very clear he was going to continue whether they were gawking or not.

Asch yelps as she's picked up in his arms, she can't see the two others because of Illidan's wing but she knows they were standing there, baffled. Like she was...


Illidan closes the upstairs door, still able to hear the pair below, he doesn't allow that to bother him. Asch seems confused and a little more then embarrassed by the whole thing.


"Well pretty elf. How much have you missed me?" Very much he knew, but he wanted her to say it. "I... Illidan" she didn't say it, but Asch grabs him, pulling him into an embrace, hiding herself in his neck. Illidan fumbles for purchase, even more struck with affection for the little elf beneath him.

"Don't go again" that was enough to actually upset him "no no, of course not. Never again Asch" he kisses the exposed part of her collarbone, assuring her with all the love he could.

Finally after much prodding and even a little begging, Illidan gets to strip off the mossy little dress, finally seeing her again after so long, she was just like he remembered. Asch however had many new things to discover about him. It was interesting and a relief at the same time, realizing that she was only curious about his now harsh leather skin and  excited even to touch him.

Asch reached up and touched his horns again, appreciating the rock hard shape, whispering how beautiful they actually were. Illidan laughed at her of course "more of a hindrance" Asch gave him a funny look, smirking he looks between her spread legs "it'll be much harder to pleasure you with my tongue then it used to be" actually it would be near impossible. Asch couldn't spread her legs that far apart and no matter how hard he could attempt, Illidan wouldn't be able too do it.

Asch chokes a little at his words, blooming with embarrassment, Illidan however thinks of a better way "you... you don't have too!" She all but yells, Illidan thought it was cute, "I do little elf" he taps his fingers along her leg "you wouldn't want these inside of you" his nails were sharp as knives, Illidan was careful, but he wasn't about to risk that and he believed in making his partners peak more times then himself. That would be hard to do if he couldn't prepare her properly.

"Ah" he proclaims "I have an idea" Asch tilts her head, blinking at him, "it might be a little bold for you pretty elf" Asch welcomed challenge when she was a student, no matter the embarrassment. Illidan leans on his elbow, smirking cockily as he taps his mouth "sit" it took her a long moment before she realized what that actually meant. Her face, neck and breasts all colored a deep pink, still he challenged her and Asch didn't back down "h-how..?" Her voice was a little soft and afraid, but Illidan continues.


Laying down on his back he beckons her with a finger, smirking as she trailed up his body, letting him feel everything. Illidan missed the heady scent of her cunt, the little lips and and the soft tufts of hair. She still smelt like he remembered, but it had a more earthy tone too it, Illidan didn't mind. "Now sit, grab my horns" he could feel the shake in her hands as she grabbed them. Asch lowered herself right onto his waiting tongue and gasped when he grabbed her, making her stay put. It was an onslaught. Asch wails in pleasure, gripping tightly. Illidan made her rock against his mouth, fuck herself into his tongue as he sucked and licked away the juices. Her legs caged and tightened around his head, it didn't bother him.

Illidan had the best view, her back was arched, her fingers pressed into his horns, the very shake of her thighs turned him on "Illidan- oh..." she calls, squeezing his head, Illidan hums into her, smirking as she quaked.
"Illidan! Oh Illidan!" Asch tried to arch away, tried to move, but he kept her, drinking her gushing pleasure. This still tastes the same. His fingers left marks, deathly harsh ones that Asch didn't even seem to notice as she slumps, Illidan carefully slides her to sit in his lap, he himself sits up, smiling pleasantly while licking his lips like a pleased cat.

"I think someone heard" he chuckles, although, by the hurried few steps he heard outside no doubt someone heard. Asch didn't look pleased by that. "Clam pretty elf, I won't quit until all the grove can hear you." he got smacked for that. It was worth it though.

"Up, on your knees" he says, hooking his thumbs under his pants Asch scratches his abs peaking, trying to hide the fact, Illidan chuckles at her "go on and look, hold it if you like" Asch grunts, glaring at him "not funny" Illidan shrugs "I wasn't trying to be" Illidan kisses her head, kicking his pants off.

Illidan brushes the soft pads of his fingers against her cunt, mushing the wetness. Illidan pumps himself once, lining the tip against her hole "ease down" Illidan wanted it to go at her pace. Nothing about his cock changed, Asch easily took it. She was tight around him, Illidan basked in it.

Illidan went slow, holding her, listening to her moan and whine. They spend hours like this, Illidan was relentless, he didn't let up until she was sobbing in the sheets. Her thighs were wet and he was drenched "Illida... hah" her voice was barely above a whisper. The demon purrs, cock swollen and neglected. His hand pets her flat belly "do you want me to fill you?" Asch weakly nods, quaking.


Illidan came without much prompt, shoving his cock deep within her, shivering as her cunt milked his aching cock.

He collapses, resting comfortably atop her while she fell asleep, dozing quietly.

Notes:

EDITED MAY 21, 2018

Chapter 28: Doverius dabbles 1

Summary:

Original male night elf/original male demon hunter

Pronounced

DOH-VAIR-US

FAIR-US

 

Are you ready for hate/hate relationship? I am. These little shits

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Rare to see a male warden, rarer still to be accepted into the ranks.

Doverius stands watch, keeping a keen eye on the doors and people. Dove was suppose to be having fun, celebrate with like comrades, drink until he went black and woke up forgetting all of the party. Dove couldn't, it was safe here, he knew this, but even among so many skilled fighters, he was still on edge.


They were celebrating their graduation, the advanced class, Dove was first in his class of twenty. The advanced class was an elite few of students that were skilled enough to take on higher threats, rather then protect and wage war on the Isle.

"Relax little bird" Dove turns to see his teacher, Aveila Coreweaver "no threat in sight, you should be overjoyed! Passing your studies as top student is no easy feet." Dove tisks, shaking his head. "Still work to be done" Aveila laughs at him, clapping his shoulder "tomorrow, yes. So eager to get your assignment?" Dove was, he desperately wanted to work the legion front of the broken isle, "demons pollute our shores, I want to be rid of them" Aveila nods, growing softer "I know child, you will have your wish, please just for now, be still. In the moment, you'll be grateful for it." Dove relents, sighing opening "alright, I shall" she forces a cup of wine into his hands and clinks her own glass against it. Dove has no choice but to drink.


The morning came with fog and more unsettling stench, blood and fel fire, it disgusted Dove to no end just how tainted their own isle was. Yet he stood, full armor but foor his helmet. The slight wind rustled his high tail, whacking it into his cheek. Dove jerked his head, making it swing away, today they would have his orders. Today he could finally be of use.

They were broken up into teams of five for sorting, their class would all be working alone, Dove was placed with team three, the last to receive orders. Dove listened and envied some of the other students, few were selected to head to the broken shore, assist the commanding officer where needed, others were sent to Warden garrisons around the isle. Once they finally got to him, Dove was twitching in anticipation.

"Doverius Granderlight!" Dove sets to the other warden, standing straight as an arrow "to the shore, present yourself to Lord Stormrage and fall under his command!" Dove recoils in shock, Illidan Stormrage? That fowl demon? "You cannot be serious?!" The commander regards him, Dove cannot tell how she's receives him, "Yes. Maiev Shadowsong requested you personally" this gave him pause. Maiev? Did she really? Obviously the commander wouldn't lie.

"Why am I to work under the demon?!" He tries too sound less outraged, the commander hisses at him, "go and ask her for yourself" she swats at him, already moving on. Illidan. Dove scowls openly, trudging back to his quarters.


The journey was short and Dove only grew more annoyed as his saber, Dauntless takes him closer to Illidan. He already saw too many demon hunters around the shore, it only worsened when he came to the camps. It was absolutely full of of them. Illidan was standing just off side of Maiev, engaging with the famous human Mage, Khadgar.

The Warden turns, regarding Doverius as he came to a halt, few feet in front of them. "Granderlight" Maiev's tone was clipped, official. Dove nods her way as he approaches, watching the demon lord with harsh eyes. "Is this the boy you promised?" His voice was deep, ugly and raspy. Maiev nods curtly, "yes, the top of our advanced class" Illidan actually turns, finally making an effort to look at him.

"Hmph" he snorts, smirking lightly "is it a requirement to have white hair?" Dove glares, bolted on the spot as Maiev sighs loudly behind her helmet "enough. It was you who requested him."

Illidan smiles around his sharp teeth, finding her amusing "he's little. Can he do all you claim?" Dove felt insulted, of course he could. This idiot demon was too slack with his tongue. Maiev barely responds, waving him off like a branch. "Granderlight, have they told you your assignment?" Dove bows to his leader "no, my lady" Illidan laughs again "polite, are you sure he is one of yours?" Maiev snarls, swinging her moon blade at him. Illidan dodges it effortlessly.

"Enough you fool! Explain his task before I cut your throat!" Illidan doesn't look intimidated by her words "well then, little warden. Your duty will be to me." Dove juts his jaw out angrily, "I'll have you work alongside my best hunter and do what is needed" Maiev doesn't protest this, doesn't even seem to care anymore.


"I won't be some errand boy, you filthy animal!" Dove snaps, baring teeth and fangs. Illidan only grins wider "but you are, now go, fetch your new keeper, he will have your duties" Dove looks to Maiev, as if she was going to speak against the demon for him.

"What are you waiting for?" She says, hissing at him. Dove flinches straight, begrudgingly hissing "yes, my lady..."


Dove fumes, pulling Dauntless along, the cat groans at him, pawing at his master, annoyed by the tugging. Dove lets up a little, still forcing him by the collar. "Unbelievable!" He hisses to the cat, "demon hunter scum!" Dove finds the perch where all the hunters are gathered in little packs, they all look at him.

Dove does not care to discern the nature of their looks, "Illidan sent for me!" He shouts, angry he was not given a name "where's the hunter he pledged?" Dove looks at them all, watching to see if one of them move. Many look at him curiously, some with hooded eyes and tiny smirks, then he's jolted by a firm hand grabbing his shoulder.

Dove whips around, smacking the hand off him, aiming his moon blade toward the offender, the demon hunter behind him looks amused as it's poised to cut his throat "you called for me, pet?" Dove growls, jutting the blade, nicking his skin "I am no pet, demon scum" the hunters around him tense angrily, baring their sharp teeth, the one before him grins just as insufferably as Illidan had.

The hunter was light skinned, his horns were large, curled up in a half circle, a lot like Illidan's own. The tattoos were jagged and messy, mirrored perfectly on each side of his body. Lastly, his eyes were uncovered, raising like flames and looking at Dove with utter amusement and mocking.

"Ferris, little elf" Dove scrunches his nose, why had people suddenly begun to call him little? Shaking his head he dug the blade in, wetting the steak with demon blood. Ferris sighs "come, I've work to do" Ferris turns from the blade, the Warden doesn't move it until he's lagging behind, snarling at him.

"You're a man aren't you?" It was rude to ask, but Ferris was still bleeding into himself, "yes" his tone was scandalized, Ferris pushes harder "why do you act like such a women then?" The Warden was feminine looking, pleasing too the eye. His hair was silky looking, shiny when it caught the right light. His face was pleasing to look at, sloped in just the right way that it made his whole demeanor soft, not to mention the two messy tattoos over his eyes, shaped like deformed claws. If Ferris last remembered, those were only reserved for women.

As if the Warden knew he was looking, he self-consciously touches one of the markings, then quickly masks his shame with a fowl lip curl "shut your mouth animal!" Ferris rolls his eyes, still regarding the Warden.. Interesting, too say the very least.

"Here" Ferris stops, "this is our camp. Tomorrow we scout and gather information" Ferris was glad for the help, Illidan promised him assistance, but never thought it would come in the shape of a Warden. They loathed his kind, but assuming Illidan knew what he was doing, Ferris did not question the motives of his leader.

The camp was nicer then Dove expected, the tents were sizeable and neat looking. Even inside was quite tidy and spacious "your side" the claw of his hand points to a fluffed looking pad. There was still daylight out, but Dove found he was too tired for much else, so he unpacked the little he brought. Idly watching the hunter pick at his nails and play with a scrap of cloth.

Ferris was rude, this he knew, so staring or gawking wasn't a big deal to him. He couldn't figure the elf before him out. What made him so impressive? Illidan knows somehow, but lacked in sharing the details with Ferris.

Doverius. The name is toyed with in his mind, he was most unimpressive, skinny little arms and thin torso, the only thing he had going for him was that sharp tongue and bad attitude.

Dove yawns, a tear running out of his eye floods down the messy, ugly markings. This makes Ferris perk, no make-up trail... they were real? Watching Dove wipe his cheek roughly confirmed it. "Y'know, we're part of the same people" Ferris begins, now pointing at his own cheek "how'd you come to get those?" Doverius wasn't suppose to have those, they both knew that. Even as their people became more lenient on what women and men could study, it was still explicitly forbidden for men to bare the markings.

Dove turns his face away, glaring hotly "none of your concern!" Ferris rolls his eyes, watching the elf turn away and hide under the sheets. Ferris never knew anyone too be so sensitive.

Dove scratches at his cheeks, clawing at the stained marking. Angry that the stupid hunter had asked.


The morning brought Ferris a even more raging Dove. Ferris flexed his wings, shaking them loose and shivering as the bones cracked just right. Dove appears disgusted by this. It was going to be a long day.

Notes:

EDITED APRIL 20,2018

Chapter 29: Doverius dabbles 2

Summary:

Original male demon hunter/original male night elf

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Dove shoves the demon hunter againt the wall, kissing him fiercely, angrily. The pit of rage only stirs as the hunter grabs him, handling him like a toy "watch my wings!" The two leathery extensions flap, ruffled. Dove hisses, pushing him again "stop complaining and kiss me" Ferris growls in his mouth, giving exactly what he wants. Shoving his tongue down Dove's throat without warning as he turns Dove into the wall, smacking his taught back into the slab. Ferris smirks a little at the huff of noise coming out of the little elf.


They break off and Dove inhales, flushed a angry red "I hate you, you fowl demon" his words have no malice behind them, "where do you want to be fucked?" The elf is rattled by his words, clearly embarrassed, his smirk widens "don't be disgusting!" Dove snaps at him, shoving his shoulders. The demon rolls his eyes, gripping his taught ass, hoisting him up "against the wall or on the bed?" A thick brow raised, Dove's eyes dart away, a horrible blush corrupts his cheeks and neck "the bed..." Ferris tilts his head, pretending not to hear him.

"Sorry? Where did you want to be fucked?" The elf jolts uncomfortably again, scowling hatefully "the bed! You fo-" his insult cut off by a loud howl, Ferris tosses him, making him land roughly on the plush bed "god I hate you!" Dove flies up, hair a mess, clutching the sheet with burning malice. Ferris barks out a laugh, ignoring the scorn as he climbs over the elf.


Dove lets the demon push him down, snarling out a moan as Ferris attacks his neck, "no marks you idiot!" Ferris doesn't listen to him, in fact only spurred to disobey.


Ferris wiggles the uncooperative elf out of his clothing, halting his advances to look at the naked Warden, what he sees makes him snort, "what a cute cock you have" Ferris mocks, now completely interested in the small and shapely cock. "It's so tiny" he coos, watching it ooze fluid. Dove squeaks loudly as Ferris grips it, thumb toying with the pink head "no wonder everyone thinks your a women, you've got no cock" it was a pretty thing, no bigger then his finger, it had to be less then four inches. Dove knees him, growling angrily "shut up!" He sounds hurt, the blush of shame covering over the one of pleasure.

Ferris leans over, licking the pre-come from the tiny slit, feeling a little bad he hit a sore spot "nothing wrong, I like it" Dove hisses out a reluctant moan as Ferris mouths the tip, clutching the pillows.

"What have you fucked with it, hmm?" Ferris decides a little more teasing couldn't hurt. "A girl certainly wouldn't feel it" Ferris licks up the underside of his shaft, relishing in the shiver he gets. "Your hand? A pillow? What elf?" His lips twitch, Adam's apple bobbing, Ferris' hand engulfs the little cock, jerking it slowly, returning to his job along Dove's collarbone.

Dove moans pathetically, humping into the heat of his hand "c'mon tell me" the hunter says between bites. Dove can't shake the embarrassment he feels, the utter shame made his cock pulse "a-a pil... pillow!" Dove sounds like a women, Ferris purrs, imagining how delightful it would look to see the little elf fuck himself into a pillow and come. He might just have to try and make him. His face would look so precious, flushed. Mouth hanging open as his pretty ass juts into the warm pillow folded between his legs.

Ferris wants to stick his fingers inside his tight hole, watch Dove as he losses himself, whining out like a girl as he finishes between the folds.

Ferris squeezes Dove's balls, palming them between his fingers, watching the elf burst out in pleasure. "Ferr..." he pants, clawing at his forearms. Dove looks beautiful like this, no scowl to sully his pretty face.


Ferris shimmies out of his pants, cock bouncing from its confinement, he purposely shoves it against Dove's, making the elf flinch in confusion "this is a real cock" Ferris smirks, gabbing himself, poking it into the plump sac. Dove looks away, fuming lightly "it isn't that little!" Ferris laughs at him "yes it is, it's cute and perfect- like you" Ferris nuzzles his cheek into Dove's, it doesn't gain him much favor but the elf does respond to him.

Ferris could feel his cock jump as he clutched it again, holding his own cock tight against it, stroking until Dove's is a panting mess. "Up" Ferris commands, pulling away. Dove groans, upset and wiggles, trying to find friction again.

"In my lap" he beacons, Dove climbs into his thighs, the little cock poking Ferris in the abs "shouldn't I..." his eyes dart between their bodies, Ferris chuckles warmly "as much as I'd like to stuff my cock down your throat- I have other plans" Ferris likes how few dirty words can make Dove so embarrassed, it makes it all the more enjoyable for the demon.

"Suck" the demon trimmed his nails for this, Dove scowls at the blunted black nails, Ferris shrugs, poking at his mouth. Dove allows them entry, knowing what Ferris had in mind. The demon watches, leaning into the headboard as Dove works his tongue lewdly around the digits. Maybe he should get the Wardens mouth on his cock...

"Good" they leave his mouth with a wet pop, Ferris grabs his cock again, shocking the elf once more "stop that!" He weakly protests, "hmm" Ferris purrs, doping his fingers between his cheeks. "Relax" the puckered hole is already resisting, the elf looks uncomfortable, leaning away from the prob, still Ferris' fingers follow, pressing and swirling against the holes restriction.

Dove's jaw tightens, his whole body shivering as the thick fingers play with his hole. "Breathe" Ferris whispers, pushing one in, despite the resistance. Dove yelps, mouth hanging open, jaw quaking. Ferris jerks his cock again, listening to the low grown escape his hanging jaw.

Slowly he works the hole loose, letting the elf wiggle uncomfortable, watching in amusement as he only thrusts Ferris's finger deeper into him. "Ahh... hah Ferr" weak little whimpers rise up from his chest, heaving as he tries to get away from the ridged finger.

Ferris watches the elf fuck himself onto the finger and his hand, confusingly switching between the two, unsure of what he's doing. Ferris quickly lifts his other finger, pairing it next to the first and enjoys the surprised moan that escapes Dove as he takes it alongside the other.

Ferris takes control, fucking him with different speeds. Dove can't handle it, his hips jut and sputter in his hands, whining out like a bitch in heat. Ferris presses his fingers just right, the elf cries out, coming into the palm of his hand. Dove watches, exhausted as Ferris licks the dribble off his hand.


"You taste sweet" Dove colors, glaring at him "hush!" Ferris squeezes his ass, "mhm, how do you want it? On your back or knees?" Ferris plays with the limp cock, distracting Dove as he tries to answer "uh... um- ah..." it grows hard with each stroke of his hand, "which way little elf" Ferris purrs, fidgeting slightly "oh... on- on my knees" Ferris is gentle this time, carefully turning him into his belly, positioning his hips high enough that it allowed access for him and comfort for Dove.

"Spread your legs" he coos softly against the elf's ear, nipping it lightly. Dove does as told, presenting his ass like a heating animal. "Hmm good boy" Dove shoots him a look of displeasure, buts its cut and contorted as Ferris presses his cock into the pucker. Dove hides his face, heaving harshly as the tip pops into his ass, making him quake, now in a deep bend.


The slope of his spine looks graceful as Ferris watches his cock slip inside the taught ass, his hands rub the cheeks, mushing them as he bottoms out, balls resting against Dove's. "Alright?" Ferris whispers into his ear, petting his soft thighs. "Mhm..." he looks dazed, eyes heavy.


When Ferris moves his hips, that awakens Dove, eye bulging and clutching the sheets "oh..." the noise draws out, just as Ferris does, leaving the tip inside before pushing forward, getting him used to the intrusion. Although, Dove looks consumed by it, mouth hanging open, drooling a little. Ferris smirks, shoving his cock, getting him to yelp.


Ferris holds his thighs, fucking him deep, rolling his hips so Dove feels the whole thing. Dove stretches, fingers twitching, clipped moans and groans escaping his raw throat. Dove's probably been heard by a dozen people, but he can't seem to care as Ferris hits the prefect spot.

Dove's ass is fluttering around him, the little elf bends into his cock, taking it like he owns it. Ferris can only position his hips, punching his cock into the tight heat at it engulfs him. Dove gasps loudly when Ferris grabs his cock, jerking it in time with his thrusts.


Dove doesn't last long like this, growling out Ferris' name, forcing him deep inside as his ass flexes around the stiff cock. Ferris huffs, allowing himself to let go, releasing with a low snarl, easing slowly forward onto Dove.

When Dove regains his breath he says, "get off" Ferris grunts, turning and carrying Dove into his chest, barely awake now.


Dove hisses at him, rolling his eyes before allowing them to close and fade into sleep.

Notes:

EDITED APRIL 20,2018

Chapter 30: Illidan dabbles 3

Summary:

Illidan stormrage/original female character

Chapter Text

This time Asch was the one to get up and walk away, looking back at Illidan sleeping quietly among the flowers made Asch smile, and feel pain as she left to face Malfurion and his wife. It seemed the two were not fooling when they demanded to see her yesterday.

So with a reluctant heart she shuffled away. What she expected was a simple chat, but as she climbed the little hill ash begun to see more then a few heads.

"Asch, finally I had that you would be overlong" Cenarius chirps pleasantly enough "good morning everyone" Asch politely bows, even though her annoyance only grows at the fact she was about to be ganged up on. "We've come to speak of my brothers return" as Asch deduced. "What of it?" As of right now he wasn't causing any trouble, well for everyone but her. Tyrande seemed fixated on the blooming bites all over her upper body. The demon was anything but subtle. Then again, that might have been the point.

That also caused annoyance. Again Illidan whether knowing or not, made Asch his pawn to make Tyrande jealous, from the look on her face it was working and served to irritate Asch more. They would be having a talk about this, Asch would not come second to this elf, not again. Not after all that has happened. Asch had growing faith, he came to her, promised never to leave again, too her. Asch hope it would be alright.

"It's not... healthy for him to be living here, in the grove" ah, straight to the point. Asch assumed they would beat around the subject a little before securing her. "Who is he harming? He's been here all but a day. What trouble has he caused?" Mal frowns a little, having no answer "if it too bold, you don't want him here because of me, isn't it?" Tyrande narrows her eyes "that is too bold."


Asch listens to her hiss the word, looking cross as ever. "True nonetheless, yes?" Mal nods, confirming her assumption "he has done nothing to me we have not fixed already. If you loved your brother you'd wish him to be happy. I'd like to think I make him happy- if you want to pretend you don't want him here, then fine I will move outside of the grove." Cenarius waves his massive hands "this is not why I asked this meeting- or rather why you did Malfurion. I only wished to know if you believe Illidan has come to help in the war." Asch gave pause for thought, wondering herself why Illidan was going to do.

Reguardless, she nodded "I think he is an ally-" "he is named betrayer for good reason" it shocked Asch to hear Tyrande hiss those words, even Mal stares at her outburst "is that it? Is that why you hate him so? For all he did- he did it for the world, he did not see his wrong then. But he does now. I will not stand here for this- if you anything else of relevant I will hear it at my home... good day!" Asch becomes a bird and flies away before anything else is said.


Asch isn't nice about her landing, or conscious about how loud she is as she stomps up the stairs, intent to seek her sleeping mate.

Ash finds him just as she left, sleeping spread out on the sheets, occupying most of the space, she doesn't care however, jumping on him in a huff, growling loudly. Illidan awakes slowly, burly from sleep, but paws her, tugging her against his stomach, letting her curl into him as he lays there "darling...?" He was so sweet, Asch leans over, groaning into the roof "As usual, Tyrande and Malfurion have spoiled my mood" after his departure Mal and Tyrande were insufferable, always clouding her as if she needed babysitting from her woes. As if she was a little heartbroken girl.

"Tell me?" He was still shaking sleep away, but Asch appreciated his attempted attentiveness "they believe you have malicious intent and for some reason do not like you being with me..." Illidan sighs heavily, scraping his claws over his eyes, pintchin his broad, angled nose "I see" he mutters, sitting up and bringing Asch into his lap, stroking her sides "Mal is being cautious and Tyrande is being... jealous" this was something she had always done, even though she wasn't interested, Tyrande very much detested woman around Illidan, as if she wanted him to dangle upon her finger, forever at her beck and call.

Asch growls at that, very annoyed, possessively pawing at his neck, pulling his face toward her until she could kiss his lips, still dry from sleep "well she can have you no longer" Illidan smirks, perhaps it was because he saw Asch clearly for the first time, without the veil of Tyrande blocking his view, but he liked how protective and jealous she was. Little brown, wilted flowers, petals and all manner of dead plants fell from her hair, upsetting Illidan as he picked a wilting daisy from the bed sheets.

"I do not want her anymore, darling" he pulls the flower into view, carefully twirling the delicate dead flower, Asch frowns, hand coming to touch it, before his very eyes the flower becomes whole, new and fresh "I believe you" she tells him, stroking the petal "I will speak to them, see if I cannot remedy this" Asch sighs in defeat, pushing herself to rest again this wide chest, hugging him tightly as he fits the flower behind her ear "darling?" Asch hums, making him grin "I love you."

Asch bends away to look up at him, frown lifted from her beautiful face "I love you too."


The days went without incident, Illidan quickly made base on the shore, making sure he was in the grove little as possible, Asch said he was no trouble, but he didn't wish to cause her any grief, so he busied himself, Asch accompanied him, insisting to help the soldiers as they left and came, it was sweet of her, watching over those she didn't have too. During nights they sometimes went home, others they stayed in private quarters built for the Archdruid, as a gift of thanks. Illidan scoffed the day they presented it too her. Asch was eternally grateful, but Illidan knew the idea behind it was a little sour. The walls echoed, the men's barracks were close, a claim they dismissed as safety, but they were really interested in the Archdruids moans.

Illidan refused to provide the satisfaction, of course he never dared to tell her what he knew of the quarters, but he would not allow mating, easily brushing off her advancing my stating he wished only to have her at their home in the grove. It was no better there, but at least most Elves, Trolls and Tauren respected the privacy of mating and turned their ears away. Unlike filthy humans and the like who were more interested in hearing the great betrayer mount his lifemate.

It was a private matter that wasn't to be a sceptical. It was bonding, a heavy connection that Illidan would safeguard. Asch was just eager to experience him again, they both in equal parts missed the time before his banishment, the time where they laid out for hours, touching everything they could reach, exhausting each other to the point of endless sleep.


Asch was bold sometimes, she would whisper filthy ideas into his ear, embarrassing herself, Illidan liked that, encouraged her even. Asch would be flustered after, Illidan would smirk, ego ridden. Flouncing, she called it.

Asch was on him today, hugging him as people coo, rubbing her cheek into his when he allowed the distraction, purring lightly if she got her way. Displaying like his insufferable sibling did with Tyrande, Illidan never thought he would have envy of people this way. Yet here it was, everyone adored watching the two, Asch would sit with him, curl around his arm or into his side is he lifted his arm to let her.

Khadgar laughed about it, claiming they were too old for such young love. Illidan sometimes even indulged her, kissing her forehead, making her squeak happily, flowers falling in a pool. Even now, as they simply sat together looking at battle plans, flowers river down her hair, clumping in a pile around the bench, Illidan got mad at anyone passing by who stepped on them, even barking at them in warning. Safe to say after the second person unfortunately stomped on them the rest gave the war table a wide birth.


Illidan idly plucks some, pulling little flowers out of her hair and tossing them, Asch didn't seem to notice as she reads, eyes flying over the pages of her book with interest. It was a book of theory, the arts of healing and rejuvenation, hardly his interest, but Illidan peaked every few pages she passed, reading a few choice sentences. Most of what he saw was about meditation and wellness. The cast and spells, the effort just to heal another, it was arduous. Far more then Illidan could bother with. Though, it was interesting too see an Archdruid in practice. The skill was evident by the sheer volume of flowers just casually flowing from her hair.


Illidan overheard the Druids speaking of it, whispering how marvellous it was. Illidan had learnt that it was very difficult for Druids to grow things, even in soils, it was incredibly impressive apparently and almost impossible for Druids to create them as Asch did. Illidan now knew where and why the flowers came, and was still baffled. Although, it was overly amusing to him that they mirrored her moods. Illidan spent the time researching every flowers meaning, wanting to always be on the same page. It helped quite a bit, Asch found him in midst of research and when he told her what he was doing she jumped him, a mix between lustful, happy and thankful. That made for an interesting set of flowers.


Now just bucket loads of many flowers dropped from her hair, Illidan sighs lightly, bored with the proceedings. They weren't the object of interest so Illidan looks at Asch, pushing a steam between the crease in her pages, Asch jolts up, blinking at him "we are not needed here much longer, would you like to go home?" They wouldn't be needed for a few days in fact, Asch looks around them, as if checking to see if it was okay they leave. As if Illidan needed permission to leave.


"Okay" Illidan wastes no time plucking her, pulling her up to his chest, people halt their duties watching as he cradles the Archdruid, flapping his wings to test the space. A few feet forward and he was launching into the air, a gust of wind shaking up dust and dirt.

Asch always hid her face in his neck at the take off, his style of flying much faster and harsher then her own.

It didn't take long at the spoed he was going to get home, passing Suramar in a blink of an eye. Illidan helps Asch too her feet, holding her waist as she wobbled, pressing hard on his arm to steady herself "you always do that" she scolds, pushing up on steadier legs. Illidan chuckles, "I'm sorry my darling" Asch gives him a look, squinting her eyes as she smiled at him "you are not!"

"No, no I'm not..."


Illidan liked sleeping on his back, Asch layer out on her stomach as his wings folded over like a second blanket, shielding her from view and putting his possessive demon side at bay, constantly telling him to protect his mate. Asch loved it, she never could sleep properly unless in complete dark, his wings provided that.

Illidan pets her back, listening to her soft snores, smiling contently.

Just as he felt himself drift off, there was a knock on the wooden door downstairs, Illidan finally got her to start closing it, since one mishap with a student coming upstairs, luckily Illidan heard him, closed his wings around Asch and watched the embarrassed stumble as he saw them, frantically ran out and screamed his apologies.

Asch squirmed with a sigh, but made no indication it woke her, again the person knocked, harder and louder, Illidan became annoyed, worried it would wake Asch. Illidan hisses low, easing Asch off him onto the bed, she did not notice and curled in the covers, Illidan looked at her once more before quietly escaping down the sodden staircase.

Illidan could not see who was at the door and angrily jerked it open, making sure it didn't bang against the wall in his fury, there before him stood Malfurion, Illidan's mood went black "what?!" The demon snaps, baring teeth. Mal narrows his eyes, shaking dust off his wings "I wanted to talk to you" Illidan sensed bad, but knowing his brother, Mal would not go away.

"Be quiet then. She's sleeping" Illidan jerked to the side, letting Malfurion enter, watching as he ducked under hanging vines, standing now in the kitchen "what do you want?" Illidan assumed this had something to do with the conversation from before with Asch, that he'd have to prove to his brother he wasn't malicious, as usual.

"I wanted to see if all was well" Illidan narrows his eyes, it wasn't too late for his brother to come on a simple visit, it was still early in the evening, but Asch and Illidan had gotten up very early this morning.

"It is. Now what do you want?" Mal sighs exasperatedly, rolling his head slightly along with his eyes. "Truly Illidan, I've given some thought to Asch's earlier words. If she trusts you then I will as well" this made Illidan pause, lean away as if cautious of a beast "have you now... why so generous?" Malfurion has always been unforgiving, Asch's words of praise could not have swayed him so easily.

"In truth? You are my brother and... Tyrande was rather unfair to Asch" Illidan squints, frowning "I have heard" Mal shakes his head "not all of it. She was very upset you've returned, she believes you are manipulating Asch."

Illidan was annoyed, having to hear this again was testing his patients, but his brother continued "Asch is a formidable Druid. I do not believe she would be with you if she believed you would do wrong" his brother shrugs lightly "that much alone gives me freedom to trust you." Illidan isn't sure if he cared for his brothers trust anymore, but the thought was welcoming, if not intriguing.


"Have you...?" Mal gestures with his hands, waving then slightly, Illidan rolls his eyes "have I what?" Whatever Malfureion meant Illidan was not understanding. "What are you... to Asch?" Illidan could find offense in the question, it was private and Mal wasn't allowed to ask such a thing, still Illidan sares his curiosity, if only to annoy Tyrande. Mal would never keep such a thing away from his beloved wife.

"We are lifemates. I do not yet know if she will want to marry" that was a complicated ritual involving Elune and blessings and Cenarius since she was a Druid, Illidan also believed he wasn't allowed to do it, since he was demon tainted. Illidan would, if they allowed it. If not, he would find another way to do it for her.

Malfurion looks rather surprised by his answer "you are? When?" Lifemates were bonded to each other, the ritual was just a passing for pubic, becoming someone's lifemate was private and some didn't choose to do it, being that elves lived very long lives they would do the public Elune ritual and break off once the fancy had passed, but lifemates was a very serious commitment.

Illidan had done it with Asch to prove his love for her was greater then his for Tyrande. In the middle of a forest, when it was almost pitch black, they marked each other with paint and said binding words, and consummated their bonding in the grass.

Few weeks later he left her and only now just returned.

"Before, long before- what does this matter?" Mal snaps back, "it does not, just... I did not know. It seems there is much I still do not know about you still" Illidan refused his twin, who wasn't so much a twin anymore. A moment of peace passed through the brothers before Illidan sighs, squeezing the bridge of his nose.

"I suppose in time we may fix this" a smile ghosts his brothers lips, Illidan shares it, briefly before twitching to the sound of soft foot steps "Illidan...?" Asch rubs her eyes, somehow making it down the stairs without hurting herself, the house was open, the staircase was in the middle of the room, connecting the living room and kitchen.

Asch blinks, adjusting tothe soft light and stands looking between the two, making a soft "oh" sound. Asch awkwardly stands, pulling at her silk night dress, as if she was trying to make it longer. It barely covered the tops of her thighs, if Malfurion noticed he did not say anything, simply smiling at her. Illidan watches her fuss, confused, the night dress was a tad reviling, but Malfurion was the intruder and Asch shouldn't have been embarrassed. Although, Illidan supposes it was a little awkward since Mal was a colleague more so then family.

"Did we wake you?" Illidan asks, watching her hover on the last step, "no... I woke up and you were gone" Illidan huffs, moreso at himself then anything, but luckily Mal interrupts, clearing his throat "I see you are needed, I shall take my leave" Illidan flatly glares at the teasing coo, his brother already falling into step like the days Illidan remembers. One of the few thing they used to tease each other about were women, although now they both had mates there would be less talk of fowl things. More talk of love making and babies.

Illidan was not excited to hear how lovingly his brother had Tyrande, not because he still held feeling for the woman, mostly because he found it repulsive and in no way wanted to imagine his brother mounting anything. Sure it was fine when they were dumb children. Now it just seemed strange.

Illidan defiantly didn't want to tell his brother how hot it was when Asch grabbed his horns. Or how nice it was to be with her again. Eventually Mal would ask, no doubt he was reaching to do it before Asch came down. Sooner or later it would come up.

Sex was sacred among elves, but Illidan and Mal always shared their experiences, having their fun and trying to beat each other in conquests, that was before they committed seriously, still find times.

Illidan lets his brother out, agreeing to meet him again soon, Asch was still on the step as he turned the door shut, "I gather you've fixed it with Mal?" Illidan wasn't sure, simply he shrugs, humming "mhm I suppose" Illidan hunches a little, picking her up, Asch giggles lightly as she dangles, feet brushing into his ankles.

Gently, Illidan puts them to bed, tucking his wings back into place and fitting the blanket over them. Asch leans up for a kiss, then snuggles down into his neck. Just as before Illidan pets her spine, listening to her slowly fall back into sleep, but this time, he follows.

Chapter 31: Doverius dabbles 3

Summary:

Original male nightelf/original male demon hunter

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Dove is shaking in fury, what was worse, the stupid demon hunter he put his trust in allowed this.

"Of course you'd get us caught by the legion!" Dove yells, shoving the hunter, Ferris takes the abuse, silent. It smelt fowl here, too much was hitting his senses, making his head hurt. It pains him, but Ferris opens his eyes, focusing on Dove, without all his armor the elf appeared weaker, smaller somehow.


"Tell me now" Ferris says softly, "where did they come from? Before we die." Dove knows what he's asking, the defensive snarl tells him Dove still doesn't want too. Dove growls, furiously rubbing at his face. "Fine! Gods fine!"

Ferris sits up, awaiting the tale. Dove refuses to look at him. "I have one sister. She was always so cruel. When she was given her markings she stole the paint and needle, she said she wanted a sister, one she could share her rite with... so she scarred my face, drew this. When my mother found me it was too late to undo the damage." Ferris watches as he claws at the bottom of the jagged tattoo. The elf searched the floor, as if he was trying to find something other than black dirt.

"My eyelids bled for days."

Ferris didn't know what too say, he thought the wardens allowed him to have the markings, given freely and accepted of his own will, not scraped on by his terrible sister. "I'm sorry- before, for calling you a women." Dove lets out a soft, pained laugh go, "may as well. I look enough like one" Ferris snorts, humorlessly, but they share a small smile.

"Certainly are pretty too look at" Dove gives him a ludicrously shocked look, wide golden eyes bulging "shut up, gods we're going to die and you still manage to make fun of me" Ferris shakes his head adamantly, rattling his brain. "I'm not making fun of you..." Dove stares, mouth parted open dumbly.

"You... you think I'm pretty?" It sounds foreign to Dove, every women, every man even, called him a pretender. An outcast.

"Well... handsome, if you rather" Dove's never been called that either. "No... no I- I like pretty" the hunter smirks, chains clinking as he adjusts into leaning closer "then I think you're very pretty." Dove felt a rush, a dizzy confusing rush that had him smiling through the heat in his face. For all his life he knew he liked men, but this demon hunter, he never assumed Ferris would would fall into the category.

"Look at that face" Ferris chuckles, "don't think I've ever seen you so happy. Or at all." Dove shoots him a look that has the hunter throwing his hands up in surrender "I see I pushed my luck" another long stretch of silence.

Dove isn't sure how to process the information, really what is he suppose to do with it? They were going to die, or be put to work in whatever demon camp that was nearest. There was a lot to be desired now, with the revolution of the hunter liking him, Dove was worried what was suppose to happen next.

"What does this mean...?" Ferris peels into thought, lip jutting out, never had it occurred to Dove too really look at the demon. His horns were scratched to hell, like a saber used it as a post for its nails. The scars alone were an outlier, not an inch of skin was left untouched. His tattoos seemed unmarred, perfect swivels and shapes. Green as fel fire and just as luminescent. The claws were the worst of it all, sharp, thick and glinting dangerously. Before they were caught Dove witnessed the hunter use them more than he should have.

"I'm not sure. We can leave it like this" the attraction was there, Dove felt it like a thread tugging at him. What was this? Friendship now? What exactly did you become with a man who called you pretty? "What could it be?" Dove found himself asking, without his permission. Cursing at himself, that was far to bold.

"Whatever you like, demons have a different way of doing things, but it will be as you say" different way of doing things. This confuses Dove.

"What do you mean, different?" Ferris shrugs "like Druids I suppose. We pick someone and create a bond" Druids were complicated, driven by animal instinct. However, a demon is driven by demonic powers, what those were however Dove wouldn't ask, didn't assume Ferris would know how to explain.

"And if I want you?" The words made his tongue tingly and a pit formed in the hallow of his empty stomach. There was a teasing smirk on Ferris' face "how can I say no to such a pretty face?" Dove glares flatly at him, lip curling "shut up- be serious!" The hunter shrugs, hardly looking apologetic "I am, if you're serious too. Then I'll stand by your side for as long as you will have me- though, we will be at odds with our people." Ferris shakes his head, "yours I mean to say. Mine don't care about who fucks who" Dove clinches his teeth, cringing a little at the statement. However it was true. Nightelves were very strict about sexual matters even more now that their race was no longer everlasting.

It made even worse by Dove's pride. Being with the hunter would be no secret, the scrutiny and ridicule will be endless.

"Hmm" Ferris grunts, scratching his hair "you think we'll be the first, or do you think that Maiev and Illidan beat us to it?" Dove audibly groans his disgust "lady Maiev wouldn't... wouldnt-" "fuck?" Ferris saw the twinge in his posture before at the use of the word, the coloring on his cheeks darkened "she wouldn't! She hates him!" Ferris barks out loud, wild laughter "and you hated me, yet here we are, thinking about the same thing!" Dove was not considering having sex with the hunter, not until now.

"I'm not! Stop being fowl!" Ferris is still laughing, if possible even more then before. Dove crosses his arms, feeling violated as Ferris doubles over "you're a prude, I should have expected that" tears are wiped away from his cheeks, the dead eyes looking at him with lewd implications. "I am not! Just because I haven't doesn't mean anything! At least I have a reason!" No one even wanted to speak too him because of the markings on his face.

"Ahh, you're right. I'm sorry little elf" the tattoos were a sore spot, one that would never heal. "What are you then, a lecher?" Dove was annoyed with him, but softens as he watches the hunters face become long, stricken. "Mhm, no. I had a wife. She perished long ago- I don't remember her face. After my change there weren't many interested parties" a small grin accompanied by sad eyes.

"I didn't know..." Dove feels awful, a constructing pain in his chest.

"I didn't want you too. I've all but forgotten her now. I don't even know her name anymore" that made Dove very sad, "but if you like women..." he's silenced by Ferris' shaking head "much changed besides my appearance and magic. I once held love for women yes, but now they don't interest me" Dove hums quietly, rubbing his fingers into his arms, having nothing else to do but stare at the floor.

Notes:

EDITED APRIL 20,2018

Chapter 32: Illidan dabbles 4

Summary:

Illidan/original female nightelf

Chapter Text

Illidan awoke to warmth, it was a nice feeling. When he cracked his eyes open the sunlight flittered through the tree into the window, sitting Asch with spots of light as the slow rise of her back shifted his hand, still resting over her back.


Illidan rubbed the spot, watching as she gently woke up, "darling" he coos, smiling. Asch with her burly eyes and a tired expression musters a smile. Somehow she sways up, sitting firmly on his hips, mushing the sleep away. Illidan lets his hands wander, groping her thighs. The night dress just hides an explicit view.

Illidan slowly sits up, kissing her neck, cascading kissing up her cheeks and forehead, making her giggle and squirm. Asch looks up at him, as if she wants to say something. Illidan waits, a brow tilted. Her face blooms, "um." She mutters nervously, Illidan hums softly in question, rubbing his fingers into her soft skin.

"I want..." Asch was beat red within seconds of speaking, Illidan was overly curious now, very intrigued by what she was trying to ask, though he was patient, trying not to push for an answer.

Asch looks away, shame riddled "what is it darling?" He tries, a little concerned "can you... oh" she buries her face into her hands, sighing deeply, frustrated "it's alright you can tell me" Illidan tries to kiss away her hands from her face, but isn't sucessful.

"I want you... to- to... be" Asch gulps, finally showing her face "rough" Illidan blinks, be rough- oh. Oh... something switched inside Illidan. Most all his life, he, Malfurion and men of their kind devoted themselves to women, praised and adored them. They weren't rough or barbaric as humans were, weren't selfish or terrible. The demon instincts inside of him roared to life, abandoning the elvish nature of careful.

Purring, Illidan asks "do you?" Asch nods meekly, still blooming in colour "I-I've read about demons... the way they..." it was very sweet how she couldn't even say it "I thought since you were half, it was hard for you too battle with instincts...?" Asch punched out the words as if she was afraid to offend him, but it was quite the opposite. It was true, while their sex was intimate, it was sometimes hard to ignore his base instincts, things he wouldn't allow himself to do, but wanted desperately.


"Are you sure?" He asks firmly "I don't want to hurt you" he could, so easily it frightened him. Asch, among the shame on her face, was determined "I want you to... to do what feels right anything- please?" That sent him over the edge.


Asch gasps as Illidan drives forward, making her crash into the bed. The loom of his shadow was frightening, but it made the heat between her legs grow. Illidan was- to the best of her knowledge a nathrezim, a dread lord. Illidan resembled one closely, but she couldn't be sure. It was a pressing issue that Illidan was having a hard time dealing with both halves of himself and Asch wanted desperately to help. Nathrezim were violent, they were a war culture and anything you had was fought for, little was known about them and very few women existed, which was why only powerful nathrezim were permitted to mate with them.


Most all of the information was assumed in texts and figured. But still, Illidan was a demon. Nathrezim were said to kill their mates, Asch was not worried about such a thing, she trusted Illidan.


Illidan was purring, rubbing the insides of her thighs, mushing the skin and making little spiderweb nicks with his claws, something had changed. His eyes were wild and predatory, dangerous even. Asch felt like a lamb sent to slaughter. Illidan takes ample time to make bleeding dents with his teeth, soiling her nightgown. His claws cut shallow patterns, marking up her body while purring like a kitten, lapping up the crimson. Asch was fascinated, his mouth played with her nipples, distracting her from the pain he was causing.

"Everyone will know you're mine" he hisses proudly, "they'll know how good you are for me. Made for me." The elf part of Illidan vanished, left was a possessive demon. Illidan had bitten her, marked up her neck with very harsh and painful bites. Fingers made bruises where he touched, but even the littlest of his hints shows in his actions that he wasn't so far gone.

Whenever he hurt her, Illidan would pleasure her. Mask over the blooming pain before it became to much. Asch was bleeding everywhere and Illidan was looking more and more pleased as he continued, Asch was already panting and he hadn't even started. "You're so wet." Illidan praises, pulling her legs further apart, staying from his half seated position "do you like this? Do you like being used?" His claw drags down her leg, blood beads along the open scratch "or do you like the idea of people seeing you used?" Asch felt hot shame at the idea, but that alone made her cunt flutter, clinch around nothing as Illidan coos.


A single finger runs softly between her lips, pressing minutely against her hole "you're dripping darling, do you want my cock so bad?" Asch fumbles for words, babbling as he teases her.

Illidan relishes at her whining, licking up the blood as it trickles out. The demon half loved marking her, seeing the bruises and cuts, the elf part was squirming, quietly pleading for him to stop. Asch bared her neck, much like his brother did when overpowered. Seeing Asch submit made the demon purr.


Torture, it was slow torture. The drag of his cock was slow, intentionally. Illidan was baring down on her, teeth clamped into the meat of her neck, sucking the flowing blood. Illidan rolls his hips, enjoying as Asch writhes, frustrated and trapped under his heavy frame.

Deep, grinding and full. It couldn't be described as anything else. Dominating maybe, Dangerous. Trapped at a demons mercy, Illidan was latched into her like a leach, his cock pumping, pulsing angrily. Illidan hisses around her clamped skin "please..." she rasps, fingers twitching against the sheets, trying for purchase. Illidan snarls, burying his cock and spurting, finally the relief.


Asch laid under him, shiver as his fingers work again her swollen clit, Asch wiggles against his cock, moaning and Illidan holds her. Asch gropes behind her, clasping at his horn as she comes, shrieking.

"Illidan..." Asch composes herself, Illidan licks the wounds the created, "thank you" he coos, kissing what he could reach. "Mhm" Asch turns, Illidan lets her up, "I love you." Asch smiles tiredly "I love you too."


There was a underline knowledge, everyone halted, staring and tried to ignore the obvious for the sake of professional. Illidan was a subtle as a giant walking through a forest. Asch was mortified, regretting the whole thing as people looked her up and down, judging her. Illidan at least didn't allow such a thing for long, his massive wings would beat or his face would catch and the offender would look at their shoes.


"Illidan!" Khadgar was moving with purpose, Maiev on his heels. Asch couldn't tell what the warden was thinking, but she knew it wasn't pleasant. Asch and Maiev did not like each other, for some of the obvious reasons. Illidan looks behind her, pressed to her back like a gargoyle. The Mage doesn't notice the tension, or for the matter is interested in other things. "We've broken through to the tomb!" This excited Illidan into drawing in action, moving to round his mate in slow curious steps. "You have?" Khadgar nods eagerly "we've broken though the seals- we are now able to storm the tomb!"


Illidan set to work, preparing his team the depths of the demon stronghold.


Khadgar was mulling over plans as he spoke. "This venture could take months, longer if we do not fully prepare our troops." Illidan grunts, knowing this. "I will spend as long as I need too incrhe tomb, ridding ourselves of the demon scum is the most important." Khadgar agrees, hesitantly. "What does Asch think?" Illidan eyeballs the human. "She is not coming." Khadgar shows surprise on his wrinkled old face. "Does she know this?"

Illidan hisses behind his teeth, glaring. He had no time to tell her. "I will- get troops ready for tonight. We enter the tomb at dusk!"

 

Illidan had thought he would just tell her and then leave to greet the raiding party. How horribly was he wrong.

Asch exploded in rage, deeply hurt she was being left out. "I'm going! You cannot force me to sit idle like this while you enter that light-forsaken place!" Illidan bares his teeth. "You are my mate!" He roars. It wasn't as though he intended to get her mad, but Illidan never had been good at sitting silently. "You will listen to me!" Asch flintches backward, hurt struck across her face.

"You say it as if I'm your pet!" She spits. "Shall I sit at your feet too?" Illidan narrows his eyes "women I did not-" "lick your cock until you order me into my belly? Am I some toy to you?!" Illidan had had enough. Slamming his hand into the wood by Asch's head, he snarls, panting in rage.

Asch shrivels, caged between his arms. "I'm not doing this to be cruel!" He growls. "I'm doing this so I don't lose you in that fucking place!" His voice grows soft as he limply lays his horns into the wood, trying desperately to touch his head to hers.

"Do you think I want you to be lost?" Asch leans up, bumping his head, grabbing his arms to stay on her tiptoes. Illidan loudly sighs "I will never be lost. So long as I have you- please my darling. Just stay. I promise I will return..." Illidan waits, watching conflict and anger rush across her face. Then acceptance.

"If you leave me alone in this world again I will not be so kind the next you return too it" Illidan droops, smiling down at her as their lips meet. Asch parts from him, panting in his face, still inches apart "when do you-" "tonight" Asch never looked more upset.

"That is so soon!" She looks frantically behind him to the window, where the sun hung low. Illidan chuckles lightly "I can be a little late..."


Asch laid there, watching Illidan dress. Panting softly. Illidan was heaving, but he had to leave. He could not stay wrapped around his mate. Sweat still lingered on his back.

Asch got up, pulling the sheets off the bed. Quietly, Asch reaches Illidan. Touches his back with a firm hand. Illidan's head turns, eying her with interest. "Don't die" she mutters, afraid. Illidan tucks his wings, turning to face her. "I give you my word." Asch quivers, tears welling in her eyes. "Don't cry" he nearly begs, forced to watch as she breaks. A shutter of air and she's balling silently, sniffling as he drops to his knees, pained.

"Please" she begs pathetically. Hands touch his face, as if trying to map and remember each groove. Illidan pulls her into him, forehead against forehead. "Please don't go, please don't leave me alone again." Illidan feels weak, a lump in his throat. "I will never let that happen. Please don't be sad darling." Illidan tries to wipe her tears away, still more spill from her eyes.

He gets an idea.

Slowly, he lets go. Reaching up to his head and loosing the knot of his blindfold. "Asch?" He prods, smoothing the folds from the cloth. Asch wipes her eyes, looking down at his hands. Asch watches as he brings it up to her, tying it taught to her neck like a chocker. "Give this back to me when I return" he says, a small smile upon his face.

Asch desperately holds onto his arms, shaking in fear. "When? When will you come back?" Illidan can't say, nor can he promise a time. Still, he comforts her. "I will, I promise this. Just... wait for me here. I will come home." Asch's lips quiver, as if she wants to say something. Illidan doesn't allow her too.

Quickly and full of passion he claims her lips, tasting her tears.

"I love you little elf" he whispers into her lips "remember this."


Asch tries to reach for him as he lets go, making her stay put as he leaves. The last she sees is the best of his wings speeding away from their home.

Then she wails.


Malfurion cringes at his wives nagging, angered by him.

"He has gone again and left her in pieces!" She spits, still ever elegant. Two months have passed since Illidan and his adventurers had begun the raid in the tomb. Two months of endless crying and hollowness. The grove was suffering. The house so full of flowers had all but died. The constant moaning and wailing was an upset. Asch had refused and company. Her door was permanently shut to everyone.

Tyrande had had enough. "He has not left her!" Mal tries to smooth his ruffled wife, but it does nothing to quell her rage. "All but in words he has! Look at what Illidan has let happen- again! I should not be surprised! We warned her my love! Why does she not listen?!" Tyrande meant well, always meant well. The first time Tyrande made Asch come to their home and slowly she returned. Became one with her studies and quickly stood on level with Malfurion himself in the Druid arts.

Although it was suffering. Without ones lifemate it was all for not. Illidan had been dead, it had strained their bond. Arguably it was worse that he was alive and away.

"We have to do something. She is distraught!" Mal furrows his brow. What could they do?

"My love, what do you suggest?" Tyrande looked at him angrily, Mal wasn't being helpful, putting it all on her. "Will she stay with us? That worked before?" He adds, a frown marring his handsome face. Tyrande tuts, shaking he head. "She won't leave..."

Mal sighs hard, rubbing his temples "have you seen her?" Tyrande shakes her pretty head "no, she won't allow anyone entrance." Mal glares at nothing, fuming quietly "then we make her."


Illidan stood facing down funnels of demons, rushing toward the platform. Velen was attacking crazily, slaughtering demons with burning light and molten hatred. It was artful, impressive. The adventurers struck at Kil'jaeden. Fighting off his attacks while dolling out their own.

It was harsh, the battle drew out, the blackish dark had Illidan giving his sight to those in need. The deceiver was on his last legs, few more well placed blows and it would be over.
Illidan could go home.


The roar was fantastic, the ship titled suddenly. "Khadgar!" Illidan shouts, "take us home!"


Asch saw the sky become ripped in two, the fowl planet of demons came into view and sorrow filled her outright. Was it over? Had Illidan fallen? Was this the punishment Kil'jaeden saw fit to reek upon those who dare challenge him? Asch falls to the floor, staring out her window.


Illidan was greeted first by his sister in law, the angry bellowing had him wondering what was at all attractive about her in the first place, but her words held points.

"She's been locked away for months!" Four to be exact. Illidan counted the days dilligently. Awaiting the day. His muscles were tired and his eyes were sore. The cloth that usually veiled the sharp world was still in Asch's possession. Still, he did not regret giving it to her.

"Stop nagging me women" Illidan hisses, pushing away from her and his brother. Tyrande flushed terribly, but Mal stopped her from reacting. "We will have words later." Mal says, letting his brother go. In a gust of wind and wings, he takes off. The faint noise of Tyrande's yelling can he heard through the clouds.

Illidan heard cheers as he soared over the Grove, watching the excited faces greet him in victory. Puzzled by this as all they step back for him as he lands. All Druids alike make a path for him as he steps toward his home. Down the stream and buried slightly in the overhand of trees.

Illidan sees no flowers.

"Asch?" He calls, awaiting outside the locked door. Upset that it was shut rather then open like usual. The door creaks open, "little elf?" He chirps. Finally, the door swings open and Asch springs forward, into his arms.

Illidan chuckles "I promised." He teases. Illidan was glad to be home, the horrors of the tomb were much to bare and to finally be in the arms of his mate was a euphoria.


Asch balls, so happy. Illidan sees flowers sprout all around him and bloom in her hair. Illidan leans back, taking on the sight, she was just as he left her, cheeks puffy and eyes crying. Although for different reasons. One thing that stood out however...

The bump that rested just shy of his own taught stomach. Illidan makes it no secret as he stares. Asch catches him and takes her hands from his, resting her palms against as if to hide it. "You aren't...?" He says stupidly. Illidan's clawed fingers poke gently at the clothed belly. It was hard, unyielding. Protecting the thing hidden inside.

There's life, he now sees. A swirling ball of lime green and pale yellow, swimming under her skin. Tainted. Demon fowl.

Illidan arches away, disturbed. "How long has it been feeding upon you?" Asch didn't look hallow, gaunt. As if she was carrying a normal child. Illidan knew, all too well what was inside her. A demon, a watery third bred. Still a demon. They fed upon their mothers. Females could handle it, thought of it as a gift if they didn't miscarriage or birth a still born. Thus far the thing was alive and twitching inside his mate.

Asch looks displease by is choice of words and angles away, upset. "Four months and it's not feeding! It's growing!" Growing. Yes, it was. Into something fowl. Illidan narrows his eyes, choosing his next words very carefully. "It's not... elvish." Asch winds her arms around her middle. "I didn't think it would be." Asch huffs. "I thought you'd... be happy- it's a baby Illidan. Our baby!" Asch sounds more excited as she finishes. Illidan's mood only blackens.

"It's a demon. Tainted because of my befouled seed." He didn't mean to hiss at her. Asch looks equally upset and stunned. "What would you have of me then?"

"Kill it." Illidan responds easily.

Asch recoils completely away from him. As if he was an enemy himself. "I will not! Gods take you for saying such a thing!" Druids revered life, so much in fact that they would risk such foolishness and carry fowl spawn.

Illidan snarls, not imagining his return be at all like this. Asch was crying again, silent tears as she hides her stomach. It did not do anything to hide the shifting ball of fel inside her.

"To what end?" He barks, anger consuming him. "Are you willing to risk your own life for that of a demon child?" Mothers of pure demonic energies barely survived birth, if at all. And almost always it ended in both the babies death and their own. No good could come from this venture. Asch was being foolish. "You're asking me to kill our baby Illidan! I cannot!" Illidan bites his frustration away. Snarling his lip at her words.

"Are you going to let it kill you first then?" Illidan revolts. Asch has a nasty frown, one that Illidan hated to see on her pretty face. "I have read the risks! I know what to expect!" Does she? Illidan almost asked, but held his tongue.

His gaze grows soft, eying the tie around her neck. Sighing, he relents, only because he knew this would hold no end. "I do not want to fight." He says passively, watching her unfold with hesitation. "I have missed you for months. This is not what I wished to come home too." It was unbearably honest. Asch's feet scrape the ground as she moves toward him. Cupping his face gently. "I... want to keep it- please. I know what can happen." Asch shakes, tears beading down her cheeks.

Illidan feels the gently press of her swollen belly, a odd warmth spreads through him. Illidan's lip twitches, his mouth trying to find words. "I won't allow it to kill you." He warns, allowing no argument. Asch doesn't give one. Simply, she folds into him.

Illidan plucks her, easily picking her up in his arms. Asch stays glued to his throat, hugging him as he moves into their home.

Base instincts surfaced more now then he remembered they had. It made Illidan feel like an animal.

The bump between them made him edgy, upset. A fiery feeling inside him made Illidan feel disgust. His hindbrain said, mate. Young. Pregnant and good. While his real thoughts were pleading at him to purge the foul spawn.

Illidan touches it again, feeling the protruding shape. Asch was asleep. All he wanted to do was sleep, but the nagging discomfort kept him awake. Illidan imagined this. Long ago when he was still whole. Imagined babies.

His mind would not rest until something was done.

Chapter 33: Anduin Wrynn dabbles 1

Notes:

Anduin Wrynn/Original female human

WARNING
WARCRAFT LEGION EXPANSION SPOILERS.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

A dead hush fell over the crowd as Anduin watches the grim face of Greymane walk with heavy boots up to the arches. The crowd around them now quiet as a breeze.

"Anduin," soft, softer than the prince ever imagined the old wolf's voice could be. Anduin seals his eyes shut, head dipping in defeat. Greymane clutched a letter, and his father? No where to be found.

Gently, Anduin steals his hands away from his bride. Today. Today he was to be married. The look on her face, the beautiful but sad eyes trying to comfort him.

"It's okay Asch," he finds himself saying. It's not. It will never be. At least, she relents, looks comforted by his words. The dress billows around his ankles, pulling him back. The maids help unwind him, Anduin stumbles for a moment.

"He's... gone," Anduin knew, but the words struck him. Sent pain right through his body. Pinging his heart with waves. The assembly was here for a celebration, but as the old wolf spoke, tears welled in their eyes, not from beauty of a young couple marrying. The mourning of their beloved king.


Asch gasps behind him, covering her mouth as tears well up, slowly she falls Onto her knees, dress belling around her like a lily pad. Anduin hangs his head. Nuptials must wait, for now they plan a funeral.

Anduin shows a rare moment of anger, throwing aside the food and treats laid out. The bedroom wasn't clear of honeymoon things. Made up for an excited couple. Asch flinches away, "My love-" "Clear this away- all of it!" He bellows, upset as the maids spring to life. Tears of shame, anger and emotion fall off his face, bitter.

He's shaking as Asch comes to him, "Come lets sit down" Anduin can't function right. He allows Asch to take him to the bed, now clear of roses and petals. "Much will be asked of you today" the funeral was hastily put together, Anduin didn't want this for his father, Greymane said there wasn't even anything to bury. But it wasn't his choice, the people of the Alliance need to know they have a leader. He needs to be crowned today of all days, his wedding day, his fathers funeral.

Everything was ushered away, nothing but the announcement of their wedding was left.

"I had hoped I'd have my wife to face it." They share a sad smile. Asch sighs, eyes crinkling with sadness. "We will. Soon." Anduin rubs his eyes, scrapping the cuff of his sleeve over his wet, red face. "Stay with me tonight. I don't want to sleep alone." Anduin would never lie, not even if it made him appear weak. Asch smiles, brushing his hair away from his forehead. It was improper he knew, but he could not bring himself to care. After all, she was supposed to be his wife today.

"Of course Anduin." They share a moment, hands tightly wound together "I love you, Asch." his heart clinches desperately "I love you too."

The hours that followed were taxing on both Asch and Anduin. The prince of Stormwind always thought his father would be here, old and full of life. Giving his son the crown and finally, resting. Not this day. Anduin stood with the bishop, peaking at his bride while the heavy crown was placed on his head, burdened.

Anduin followed the words, said the oaths and sucked in a tight breath as he accepted his duties as high king of the alliance. Velen calmed his soul slightly, and Asch did as well, offering her support in chaste kisses and embraces, letting her love wash over him until he felt it nudge at the numbness he felt. Everything was to be rushed now, preparing him for leadership. In the days following they would have their wedding, and Greymane would hiss once more about children.

Time, Anduin thought. None left now. Was it all business for his father? He wished he could ask. So many things he wanted to ask, to talk to his father again. Hear his words of wisdom and comfort. Was it rushed? Was he rushed into the roles by impatient advisors? Or did his father have the luxury to slow down. Anduin knew Asch. Knew her since he was little and his father was gone. They had met because of Bolvar Fordragon. Anduin was a shy boy and Asch said she liked that, liked him.

After a while he became very close to her, and after his father returned, Varian pressed him to marry the little spark, claiming that excitement was to be had with a girl who could challenge him. Anduin thought about it for a long time, but didn't act upon his feelings until he faced Garrosh and the Divine bell shattered his bones. Afraid for his life and what was to come of it, he cemented his place, asking for her hand with a little courage from his father and teacher.

Asch said yes.

Happy, it was. So very happy. He remembered the feeling of his father clapping his shoulder, laughing with him as he excitedly told him the news. His father was supposed to be there to give Asch away. Excited to do it even.

Even now as he stands, glass poised to his speech. His throat catches, unable to form words, even sounds. No one blames him, simply they all wait, looking at him with attention.

"My father," he says it like a croaking frog, a broken man. Anduin flinches at the sound, turning his face away from the embarrassment. What he finds is Asch, smiling at him through tears, egging him on with all she could muster. He tried again.

"My father-" a deep breath, "was one with faults." Pigheaded and foolish at times, stubborn and argumentative. The list would stretch on. "But he never did anything that wasn't for his people." Arthas comes to mind, Bolvar another. "In life he showed mercy-" Garrosh. "Love." His mother "and wisdom." Anduin.

"Most of all he showed courage."

Facing throngs of demons, alone.

"My father died for his people. Gave everything- sweat, blood and now, his soul. To the alliance..." Anduin bites his tongue, trying not to cry "I hope, pray. That I can be the man my father was. Devote myself to everything he was. For in death he left a long path for me. One I will now walk for you, for his people. My people." Anduin tips his glass, everyone does the same, some crying over their wine. Anduin wants to do the same, but now he must be strong. Like his father.

He drinks. The liquid is thick down his throat. Greymane nods to him once.

The leaders come to him, one by one swearing themselves to him, to the alliance, like they must have for his father. It was custom he knows. But he wishes it wasn't. To see his teacher, Velen. Bend the knee and promise his people wasn't something Anduin could bare. Tyrande's commanding form, bowing for her king. It felt strange, wrong somehow.

These people, the leaders. They frightened him when he was younger. They were all older then he, a thought crossed his mind. They shouldn't be bowing to a boy king. Venom spat. You aren't ready for this. Anduin shakes himself, accepting the dwarf lords fealty.

Asch, as if sensing his inner turmoil came to him like a light in the dark, standing by the arm of his throne, resting her light hand upon his shoulder, squeezing. Looking up, he sees her kind smile, the happy yellow of her eyes making him feel bursts of safety, calmness.

Asch was beautiful today, her hair was taken down from its elaborate twists and braids, the flowers replaced with black ribbon, but not to create another alluring style, simply to hold silver locks away from her face. Black did not suit her. It did not suit him.

"You're okay," she said. Anduin felt better, did as she told him and simply, felt okay.

Guidance was something he needed more then ever now. Anduin had no idea how to do this, yes. He had been trained to rule, but to actually do so. It was terrifying. It dawned on him suddenly that he was to guide people, he could not seek it and watch others take charge. It was his duty to do so for others.

Asch was tripped by his sudden movements, she stumbled and grabs the throne for balance, watching Anduin with confusion as he rushed away.

People watch the scene, Asch coughs, gaining her composure. "He needs a moment," Asch wasn't sure what had happened, so with a side glance at Greymane she picks her dress up, trotting after his retreat. Greymane understands what is needed to be done and takes over.

"Anduin- darling!" Asch yells after him. Anduin ducks quickly into a side room, gulping for air. "My love!" Asch isn't unwanted, but Anduin doesn't know what he wants now. Regardless of his feelings, she comes, grabbing his face to look at her "I... I can't do this!" he says. Voicing his fears makes him feel weak, pathetic.

Asch doesn't say anything and he continued ranting. "I don't know what I'm doing- it's... it's my job to figure everything out for everyone! Asch I don't know what I'm doing!" Asch hushes him, prodding them onto the floor. Asch strokes his face, bringing him to her breast like a child. And much like the boy Anduin feels he is, he curls into her, scared.

"It's alright not to," Asch presses, stroking his hair in circles, surely messing it up. "Your father didn't always know what he was doing. You don't have to-" "But I do! And my father did Asch... he always knew what to do..." Asch quiets his raving with a simple, motherly hush.

"He knew because he asked. He asked things of you, didn't he?" Anduin nods, hiding away and holding her close as he could. "With wisdom he learnt from you, he showed mercy to Garrosh. Varian didn't know everything darling. Neither do you. I'll be here, as will Velen. He is still your teacher" she teases him in a light voice.

"What if I fail? What if I fail them all- and you... what if I cause the downfall of the Alliance?!" Asch responds by removing his face, kissing his lips fully before he can dig deeper into his despair. "You will not fail, Anduin. So long as you draw strength from Varian- from me. You will not fail your people. The light will not let you fail."


Anduin regards the strong willed look of hope in her eyes, the determination in her speech, and realizes how foolish he was. "Anduin" Asch says, bringing his attention. "You don't have to shoulder this all alone. I will do everything in my power to help you" as will Velen and Greymane. Tyrande and the Three Hammers...

Anduin's face colours, shamed "I'm sorry I-" she hushes him again, firmly pecking his dry lips, "None of that, you're allowed to be scared darling." More and more he felt the weight lift. "Thank you my love." Anduin shifts them, pulling Asch into his lap. In a bold move, very unlike himself. Anduin kisses her, cupping her hips with solid hands.


Asch makes a soft noise, surprised by his sudden advances, but doesn't push away. Anduin feels her hands scale up his chest, gripping his neck. Anduin deepens the kiss, probing his tongue into her soft lips. They yield, parting open for his adventure. She tastes like crab. Varian's favourite food.


It's funny, Anduin thinks. Breaking the heated kiss with a laugh. Asch looks at him, a little dazed. "My father is probably shaking his head at us." Asch snorts adorably, looking around. Ah. How interesting would it be to be caught in a broom closet groping his fiancé at his fathers funeral.

"I think he would be shouting 'Finally!'" Anduin throws his head back laughing joyously into the dust air of the closet. "He always did say the best time for anything was at inappropriate times." Asch agrees with a hum, adjusting herself to press closer, hugging him suddenly "everything will be alright." Anduin takes comfort in her, wrapping his arms tightly around her body.

They sit there for sometime, revelling in the warmth of one another. Until Asch makes them think better of it. They did have guests that they so rudely passed off to Genn. The old wolf likely wasn't appreciating it.

Anduin lets her up first, playfully nipping at her knee. Asch calls him a devil as they leave. In much higher spirits.

Genn was indeed winded and casts a very annoyed look their way. However, Anduin can't help but grin at the wolf. Puzzlement crosses his old face and Asch doesn't care to elaborate.

Anduin wished his guests well and waits until each one leaves, making sure guards escort the alliance leaders to their rooms. Some left via portal Mage and promised to return, others such as Velen and the Three Hammers stayed, having no reason to leave.

It was late in the evening when finally, people had vacated. Asch had insisted upon staying. Anduin didn't want her too, but was grateful for the hand in his as he waits for everything to be finished.

Anduin tucks Asch to his side, ready to wander to bed, when Genn interrupts, clearing his throat. "Yes?" Anduin says. "We've planned the wedding for tomorrow. It's best to do it quickly as possible." Anduin wanted a grand wedding, but seeing circumstances as they were, he could only agree.

The old wolf looks disapproving of them. Anduin can see it in his eyes as he finished speaking "Give people something happy" he replied, grinning through annoyance. The next thing they'll want is a pregnancy. More happiness, Genn will say. Use his own words against him. Anduin can't bring himself to talk any longer, bidding the old wolf goodnight.

It wouldn't be long until Asch and Anduin will have to move to his fathers room. In fact he is sure this will the last he sleeps in his own bed. Asch doesn't seem concerned by it. Anduin watches her undress. Staring at the soft curve of her spine. Lucky, he thinks. Not for the first time.

Asch was a beautiful woman, easily one of the most captivating. Even as she turns he's struck with her beauty.

This wouldn't be the first time they shared a bed. His father allowed it when they were young, and as they got older and Asch began to blossom it was harder to just sleep when she snuck into his chambers. Now, looking at his bride to be, Anduin was filled with the need to touch. Asch got into bed, on his side, a possessive feeling crawled into his brain. Animalistic and dangerous. So often did men fall into their hindbrain, forgetting they had any other.

Anduin shakes himself, he was too nervous to act upon his fantasies anyway.

It wasn't proper- not that anyone would know however. Asch curls toward him, sighing in peace. Anduin stares up at the ceiling, dampened by moonlight. Several moment of fidgeting until he's giving up on sleeping. Asch noticed his struggles but doesn't say anything, only holding him. Anduin turns into his side with a huff, watching Asch as she tries to sleep.

Asch peaks at him with drowsy eyes, "Whats wrong?" Asch whispers. Anduin shakes his head, "Nothing, it's alright... go to sleep ..." Asch opens her eyes, now fully attentive. Anduin bites his lip, feeling shameful, "I.. can't stop thinking about what happened before- in the closet."

Asch gives him a small, devious smile before acting. Asch lifts the blanket up, making sure it was out of the way so it wouldn't hinder her movements. Purposefully she straddles him, resting her pert rear right against his groin. It wasn't exactly like the closet, but it was better. "Did you want to continue it? Or just kiss?" Anduin didn't know, in fact he felt like a lamb against a wolf.

His father always told him, no matter what. Know what you want. He wasn't sure that pertained to sexual matters, but Anduin lets it slide. Though it was shameful, they were unmarried. It was wrong to want to touch her, have her like this in his lap. All on the same day as his father funeral.

Comfort, he thinks. It feels nice. So do it.

"I want to.. to continue" his weak, shaky reply has Asch cooing at him. Stroking his face with faint fingers. Anduin races to her touch, even getting up just so he could reach it. Anduin allows her to puppet him into place, with only her simple touches as the strings. "What do you want my darling?" She says against his lips, quieting his response with full, soft lips.

Anduin can take charge here, this he knows. Asch melds against him as he kisses. The taste of each other lingers as they part, panting.

Asch looks expectantly, awaiting his answer. Anduin gulps lightly "I... don't want to dishonour you" Asch felt a rush of affection, "Oh Anduin," she gasps, lovingly. "Nothing we do together will dishonour me" Anduin thinks of the light, the rules of priests. He was, on all accounts doing something forbidden. He did not think the light would forsake him however.

"Can... you teach me how to... how to touch you?" Anduin was eager, he wanted to see so much. Asch's face colours pink, nodding lightly. They were both shy, Asch moreso, but excitement outweighed her bashfulness, this Anduin was grateful for. Varian wasn't there to teach him about women, but he did talk to his son at length after the fact. Taught him the proper way instead of just leaving with him the know how.

Some women are gentle. Varian had said. Some need firm hands and others don't. Of course this confused him until he got a little older, however. Asch was the gentle type, much like him. Gentle women don't like to be in control.

Asch guides his hands prodding him to slip off her nightgown. Anduin does, trying to make his touch firm. Before him, slowly. Asch become bare to his eye. The slope of her breasts catch his attention, stirring wanton need in him. Give as good as you get. Anduin can hear echo.

Quickly, he removes the same. Making sure she doesn't feel outmatched. Asch graces his skin with her touch. Soft pads run over his scars. Anduin feels powerful just then.

"T-touch me... here" the colour in her cheeks only gets worse as she speaks, Anduin finds he wants to kiss it off. No doubt his own face is flushed. Anduin looks at what she was pointing too, her little breasts heave with her shaky breath. Anduin touches.

Her skin was overheated and her heart was hammering. The mound was so soft, Anduin listened to the hitch in her breath. This he knew what to do. Slowly, his thumb circles over the rosy bud, thumbing it like a button, Asch jolts, making surprising noises. Anduin has never heard such beautiful music. He wants more.

Taking his other hands he cups the other, matching the treatment. Asch wiggles freely in his lap, arching toward him warm hands. The friction feels nice, making him harden from her contestant movements. Slowly, with no idea how to do this, he pulls her higher into his lap, mouth quickly latching into her tender flesh.

Asch squeaks, hand threading in his golden hair, tugging until the ponytail goes loose. Anduin likes this, sucking the soft flesh. He switches, moving his mouth to treat the other. It's okay to leave marks. He hears again. Some woman love that.

Anduin makes a little mark, no bigger then the pad of his thumb. It would be well hidden. Asch purrs in delight, petting the hair at the base of his neck harder. Slowly, Anduin lets his hands wander. Asch doesn't object, too busy writhing in pleasure from his mouth.

Anduin likes this very much, glancing up he can see her face, the beauty in her O shaped lips and lidded eyes.

Anduin released his mouth and used it to say: "You're so pretty." Where it had come from he didn't know. Asch is struck, all sense of pleasured haze going from her eyes. She looks at him.

"Gods... I love you so much" Asch grabs him, pulling him on top of her, they fall over. Asch crumbles to the bed, holding Anduin close. The new king was entranced. Asch bumps her hips into him, gaining his attention. Anduin looks down at the soft silky panties hiding the remains of her body. "Take them off for me- please?" Anduin groans, obliged to do her bidding.

Now he was slow and unsure again. Should he be doing this? What if people found out they were fooling around without wedlock? It raced through his mind as he thumbed the soft silk, scared to remove it. Kings shouldn't be deviants. He thought. But she's going to be your wife...

Anduin shook his head, tugging lightly. Asch lifted her wide hips. Idly he remembered a off handed comment Genn made about her. Birthing hips he said. She'll make fine babies. As if that was all she as for. Children were far off in his mind, no doubt he would want them one day, with his queen no less, but not when the legion was standing at their doorstep, not when she could be kidnapped.

Anduin had strength, but it was all stored in Asch. Just as his mind and soul. He couldn't allow it to be taken. Anduin only snapped back to the present when Asch's knees wiggled into his chest, somewhere along the line of thought he managed to strip the silk off her bottom, now it lazily rests on her knees, clutched with his fingers. Anduin quickly pulls them off, pushing them far off the bed.

Nervousness set in on both of them. "W-what now?" Varian would chide him. Anduin should know what now.

"You... you can touch" she whispers, fidgeting. Anduin parts her legs. His breath quickens at the sight. "H-how...?" He whispers shamefully. Asch's soft lips part, the flush of her cheeks setting darker "Um. With... your hands... or mouth" Anduin heard men used their fingers. Some bolder then he would use their mouth, but Anduin wasn't sure how.

Instead he touches with his fingers, Asch gaps at the contact. Men also whispered about the hard button that if touched sent women into frenzy. Without being obvious, he searches. Anduin poorly fumbling has him discovering many things.

His fingers accidentally pushed between her sensitive lips, arousing a yelp from her as they sunk lightly inside. It was scorching. Anduin carefully played around, listening to what excited her. He mushes the wetness, rubbing the skin until Asch jumps away, moaning loudly. Anduin was shocked at first, but realized he found what he sought.

"A-Anduin" she pants, shaking into the pillows. His fingers are coated with slick. Anduin whimpers, resists the urge to lick it off. The king goes to work, abusing this new pleasure centre until Asch is squirming alive at his labors.

Anduin fills her gently with his long fingers. It was tight, almost resisting his fingers. Asch pants loudly, breasts heaving. Anduin watches her pretty face flush with arousal, his own straining against his silk pants.

Suddenly she quakes, peaking. Gushing wettly against his palm. Anduin's pants become wet with dribble. Asch's cunt tried to seal his fingers inside, clutching at them in rhythm. Anduin carefully removes them, now throwing caution to the wind and licking his hand clean.

Asch watched his lustful face, tongue poking between his fingers to clean them. Like a lazy cat. His heated gaze catches her and her stomach bubbles all over again. "Anduin..." she murmurs, sitting up slowly despite her nakedness.

Anduin looks at her with boyish curiosity. Asch nudges him into the pillows, making him crash into the headboard. "C-can I...?" Asch looks between his legs, eyeing the clouded wet spot with nervous interest. Anduin harshly flinches, "You... you don't have too" he protests, Asch shakes her head. "I want too." Still breathless, she reaches between them, yanking the hem down. Anduin watches helplessly as his cock is exposed to the warm air. It bobs against his stomach, still leaking.

It wasn't proper. He thinks, disgusted with himself. He needed control. Asch stares at it, before bringing her hand up. "No- don't," he seizes her wrist before she touches him. Asch looks up, worried "Anduin?" The king looks at her beautiful face, shaking his head "It's okay really!" Asch is silent for a moment.

"Show me- please?" Asch begs, "Let me touch you." Anduin is struck, "It's not- not proper for you to-" She quiets him again with a kiss, "Please?" She whispers.

Anduin refuses outright for a moment, then chides himself. A king shouldn't refuse his wife of anything. But a priest shouldn't allow such a thing out of wedlock. Anduin was conflicted.

"Please?" She asks once more, eyes pleading "Just let me learn to pleasure you- if you still don't want it, we can sleep?" Anduin thinks about it, then with a conflicted heart he agrees. Anduin lets her wrist go and covers her hand with his. Lowering their combined hands.

Anduin rarely touched himself. He knew his hand, but hers. Anduin jumps, yelping. Her fingers were soft, so gentle. Asch kisses away his blush, nipping his red ear. Anduin huffs, keening as her hand wrapped around him in a fist.


Anduin uses her hands to stroke himself, it feels dirty. Asch continues to mouth at his neck, making light marks that will disappear before sunrise. Still it made Anduin pant openly, twitching. Anduin jerks her hand under his, using it as his own and roughly twisting it into the tip.

The warm, new feeling of her hand would make him cum much faster than usual. Anduin was a little ashamed as he bucks his hips, dribbling over their combined hands. Asch arches away to watch, Anduin tugs his cock minutely, pumping out his cum onto the back of his hands. Some got in her naked thighs, dribbling down.

Anduin cleans it away, making sure it didn't touch her core. Asch smiles at him, kissing him at every open opportunity.

"Sleep now, yes?" Anduin nods, not bothering to dress.


Xxx


Anduin took a portal to Pandaria. It wasn't unusual for him. Often he found comfort in the breeze, the mountains. He would have liked to stay a while but tonight was his wedding and he needed something done.


Now. Finding what he sought was very easy. Wrathion, the last black dragon sat in seclusion.

"Here I thought you'd be readying for my wedding." The dragon perked, a mischievous smile sparking across his face, "Here I thought you'd be there to attend your own wedding." Wrathion made Anduin smile.

The king sat. "I sense you come with business?" Anduin nods quickly, "Is it safe to talk here?" Wrathion shines with interest "Oh? My this must be important then." Wrathion ushers him away, heading outside. "Now what is so important?" Anduin looks around, nervous still.

"You're my greatest friend you know this?" Wrathion, sometimes let the veil of playfulness fall and allowed for serious. "Yes, this I know. You are as well little king- what is wrong?" Anduin sighs lightly, looking around at the mountains.

"I'm.. going to be married soon and who knows what will happen after this. My council will want a pregnancy- but... I am terrified." Wrathion tilts his head in thought "Afraid of making children... don't you know how?" Anduin grunts. "Of course yes. I come to you... because I need your help. With the legion looming... I'm afraid for my bride." Wrathion jolts alive in understanding "I see! What will you have of me then?"

"You are the only one I can trust with my wife... my children. Please Wrathion if they are in danger, can you help them? Protect them?" Wrathion gives this some thought. "Hmm. Curious. I can see why you wish for her safety. You Wrynn's have a history of being kidnapped." Anduin actually laughs. "I do have a solution however-" from his pocket he produces strings. Anduin didn't understand what these were for. "Here, hold onto this and after the wedding, you will have your answer."

Xxx


Anduin for the second time, was mesmerized by his bride. Once again watched her down the aisle, accompanied by Genn. Wrathion was watching with the same amused expression he always had, but it hinted seriousness.

Anduin wondered what his plan was as Asch got to him.

Finally, they said their vows. Gave each other words and kissed.

Expectantly, Wrathion found him after the couples dance. "Do you have them?" Anduin nods, producing them.

Wrathion takes them, fishes his solution and takes time knotting them into necklaces.

"This is for you. I consider you family as well..." Wraithion passes them. What produced was something lump shaped, blackish and blood red, like a scale. "It's pieces of my heart" Wraithion murmurs, waving his hand as if that was no big deal. "Squeeze it and I will know to come. Tell your new wife to keep it to her breast-" "What?!" Wrathion chuckles, holding his hands up to defuse the rumpled king.

"To hide it... now take it and go be with her." He prods Anduin like a child, trying to usher him away from the dark corner. "Do not let anyone know what those are. Dangerous in the wrong hands." Anduin halts, puzzled.

"What why?" Wrathion opens his mouth, but doesn't respond right away. "It's.. my heart. I do not give this so lightly." Anduin frowns, "Will it hurt? If I use it?" It occurred him that he was in fact holding a heart. Anduin could feel the faint beating even as it sat in his palm. "No- ah!" Anduin squeezed it gently, igniting pain in the black prince.

"Alright- only a little!" He hisses as if annoyed at being caught. Anduin snorts, shaking his head. Dragons.

"Off with you now!" Wraithion sounds ruffled, rightly so. But Anduin still found it funny as he pocketed his gift.

 

Notes:

EDITED 18/JAN/2019

Chapter 34: Dova dabbles 1

Summary:

Human male/blood elf female

Chapter Text

Dova looks beyond the confines of the chamber, over looking the plush pillows and sheer curtains. Among him were elves, all seated in a circle. His restraints were magical, crackling violet wrist guards. Dova did not like bloodelves. They were all too cunning and witty.

"Hmm" one titters, aiming his long nose in reguard. "Human. How boring Devous." The elf looks toward another, Devous. Who in turn, shakes him off. "He's a gladiator. I hear they are savages." Dova cannot understand them, squinting in anger. "This one keeps his hair long- how strange..." Dova was a lightly built man, handsome save for some scars. His hair was dark grey, while his eyes as silver as melted steel.

Devous snaps his fingers, a girl comes. A young, shapely elf. Eyes sickly green but hair as white as sand. Devous watches Dova carefully, while groping the girls dress. Dova looks between the two, watching as he wipes away her clothing. Exposing her milky naked skin. "Oh-" says another elf in surprise. "He's aroused..." the girls eyes are cast away, shame blooming on her pretty face. "Interesting..." Dova flintches away, adjusting himsel best he could. "You like our women?" One speaks in common. Dova is shocked. They laugh at him.


The elf speaking to him manhandles the girl, pulling her in front of him. "Why wouldn't you?" He bites, caressing her skin. "You humans. You're like animals." He shoves the girl, she fell onto her knees with a loud thump. "Go on gladiator, show us how beastly you are." Dova sits tall, back curving away. The girl fixes herself, only to be pushed closer with a boney hand. "Go on you whore, amuse us!" Dova watches the girl blink tears away, scurrying toward him.

"Suck his cock!" The elf spits, leaning in his chair. Dova snarls at her, but the elf tuts. "Ah- ah be nice" he says it like chiding a puppy. "Or we'll kill her." A guard, one beside his chair as a crossbow. The girl is quivering. "Please..." she whispers brokenly. The elf in the chair makes an amused sound, "yes, please?" He mimics.

Dova was a famous gladiator. One that brought in money and fame to his keepers. When he was told that his company was bought for the next few nights he didn't assume it would be for this. Yes, many noble ladies paid to see him, but they never touched him beyond a simple grope. It was beneath them to lay with a gladiator. Now another slave, like him. Was between his knees, fulfilling her orders.

Dova watches her move the bare scrap of clothing, he had no obligation to this girl, he could simply refuse and they would kill her... and yet, he couldn't. In the arena it was fair, the fought to the death and only one would leave. This however would just be slaughter.

Dova was already aroused, the timid hand tugging his cock made him grunt. The girl pushed her hair away and takes him into her mouth, igniting a growl from within his chest. She was clumsy, unsure. This girl had never done this before. Her tongue was eager and trying its best, but it couldn't hide her inexperience. The elf in the chair waves his hand, the restraints on his wrists disappear. Dova hisses as her teeth scrape along the sensitive skin. Dova fists her hair with his new found movement. "Take more." The elf snaps. The wide, green eyes stare at him, taking him deeper. This made her choke, throat convulsing around his cock.

The girl struggles, trying to breath. Dova grits his teeth, grimacing at her poor technique. "Stop." He commands in a low, dark voice. The girl halts, looking terrified. "Let me show you." There was no use in her coughing. Dova wasn't sure what could annoy the elves into killing her, so he wouldn't chance anything. Dova pulls at her jaw, pinching it open. Slowly, he lowers her into his cock again. Thrusting lightly. "Breath through your nose." Dova prods, massaging his fingers into her jaw. Frantic, confused puffs of air come out of her nose, flaring just enough that he can see she's trying. Whether out of fear for her life or fear of him. Dova cannot say.

At least now she isn't choking on his cock. The elf sighs angrily behind her, snapping his fingers. Once again, Dova's hands are seized by a guard, forced behind his back. The girl is taken off of him and held there by her hair. Dova struggles against the magic restraints, arms pinned behind his back. The elf snaps his fingers again and the guard moves to her, forcing her mouth open. In one swift motion his cock his devoured by her constricting throat. Her hands claw at his thighs, eyes tearing up. "You took to long." The elf smirks. Dova is helpless to watch as the guards pumps her head up and down his cock, tears flowing down her cheeks as she struggles to breath.

Drool coats his cock as it flows out of her mouth. Wet disgusting noises fill the room and the elves behind them become very interested. Dova has a snarl, glaring hotly at the hand on her head "she can't breathe!" He barks in a rough voice. The elf pays him no mind. Dova looks back at her, distressed by her struggles.

"I... I thought you wanted to see an animal?!" He grunts, trying to hold still as the guard works the poor girl against his cock. The elf snaps up looking at him now. Dova lets a shaky breath go. "Where's the interest in tying me up like a puppet?" The elf beside the him hums in intrigue. "Yes... Devous what's the fun in this? Let the beast do as he wishes. That seems far more interesting..." Devous' jaw goes slack, as if entertaining the idea.

Then with a delicate wave the guard wretches the girl off of Dova. "Go on then. Entertain us." Dova ignores him, slowly he grabs her face with his newly released hands. It's covered in drool and spittle. Dova strokes her delicate neck, it looks very easy to snap. Instead he uses the levarge to yank her forward, kissing her fiercely. The girl is surprised, falling into him. Her hands grip for purchase, slipping on the oil they coated his body in. The elves are amused at this and laugh at her stumbling.

Dova heeds them no mind and invades her mouth with his overbearing tongue. Fianlly, the girl gets steady. Fingers trembling against his chest. Dova releases her, watching her gasp for breath, face hot. Dova pushes her down, making her gasp. Before she can recover, his face is pushing between her thighs. The girl lets out a loud keen, the elves titter excitedly. "Look how he's ravishing her. Utterly barbaric!" Dova works his lips around her petal soft slits, sloppily eatting her out with the same fierce drive he has in the arena.


The girl is inconsolable, thrashing about and arching like a wild animal, wiggling trapped by his hands. Dova forces his tongue deeper, devouring her to the amusement of the audience. In the warriors mind, the better he does, the quicker it will end. "Humans are delightfully savage." Another elf hums, excitedly watching.

Dova can feel her soft hands pulling at his hair, the knot tying up his foxtail is loosing as she pushes him away. Dova persists, knowing why. The girl lets out a broken sob, freezing against his mouth. Shuttering as his mouth steals her juices. Among the things he's tasted, this wasn't the most unpleasant. Dova wasn't allowed to have any company, slaves weren't allowed to have any relations.

Dova wipes his mouth, licking his chops. The girl was twitching, useless as Dova moved her into place. "In your lap, beast." The elf croons, head sitting in his hand. "We want to see!" Dova swallows his disgust, nodding mutely. The girl wobbles against him, slapping her hands weightlessly for purchase.

"Has she..." Dova reguards her, huffing and panting. "Been used before? Oh yes. Don't worry-" the elf chuckles. "Do whatever you like." Dova didn't like the words, or the way he decided to say them. Reguardless, he proceeds. The girls eyes widen as he strokes his cock against her wet hole. "Oh my." Another elf titters in Thalassian. "He's so big!" The elves giggle, watching him sheath this cock.


The girl's face tightens, brow furrowing. Dova knows that look. He allows pride to soak through is bones. She was utterly full. The girl weakly keens, struggling. "Hah..." the girl pants, mouth hanging open in awe. "She's so full look at her!" The elf laughs, utterly amazed.


Dova palms her ass, using the firm hold and thrusting up. The girl shouts, arching into his wet skin. The dirty sound of wet slapping fills the air as he fucks up into the placid body. Her choppy moans fill the space of silence as the elves just watch, infatuated. Some are touching themselves below their robes. Dova turns his eyes away, repulsed.

"Harder slave!" The elf hisses, watching where Dova and the girl were joined. Dova frowns, shaking away sweat from his eyes. Doing as told he drops the girl onto her back, letting her dangle as Dova holds her hip. One hand smacked down by her head.


Dova pumps into her with new vigor, head hanging low between between the slopes of her breasts. The girls mouth hangs open like a fish, "ah- ah- ah-" she spouts with each slide of his cock. Dova's face grows hot, sweat beads off him into her perfect skin.

The girls eyes go slack. One of the elves gets up, Dova's jaw is wretched up by a boney hand. The elf, a woman is smiling at him with her angled face. "What's it like?" Her voice was awful, a high pitched whine. Dova swallows, the elf in the chair jerks his head to Dova. "Soft..." he mutters. The elf mushes his cheeks in, giggling. Dova feels like a dog, but even a dog wouldn't allow being touched while mating. "Can you make him cum inside?" The woman asks, still holding his face. Dova furrows his brow, wondering over the foreign words.

"Hmm... I suppose- Beast!" Dova glares up at the man, hips still rocking into the girl. "Finish inside." Dova's face goes hot, his cock pulses excitedly. "Go on." The elf commands, waving his hands. Dova convulses for a moment, confused. Then does as asked, shoving his hips wildly into her pelvis.

Dova slams his hips, holding onto her with iron grips. The girl looks uncomfortable and full, a worried brow as she's forced forward from the sheer roughness of his pace. Dova cums with a hiss, emptying inside her. The spectators are in awe.


The girl goes limp, hiding her face in her shoulder. "I want to see it again- can he do it again?" Devous cackles at the giggly girls request. "I think our entertainment has had enough. "Slave girl-" Asch scrambles, Dova's cock drops limply with a wet noise. "Take him to his quarters and clean yourself!"

"At once master!" Dova surprised by her voice. "P-please come with me..." she asks, grabbing his clammy hand. The elves continue to make snide comments, ones Dova doesn't understand, but the girl looks shamed as she slips her silky dress on.


They walk in silence down the hall until Dova breaks it. "What did they say?" Dova has a deep and rough voice, one girls said they liked to listen too. This one however looked struck as he spoke, as if burnt by his words. "Nothing- it's alright. Thank you..." Dova's lips thin, annoyed. "Did I hurt you?" Their leavings licked down her thigh like muddled ooze. It looked uncomfortable. "It's alright." She says again. "I'm used to it-" Dova grabs her, tugging her wrist until she's facing him, with a shocked look upon her long, pretty face. "But did I hurt you?" She looks scared, like most girls are when face to face with him. Sure he was handsome, strong. But he terrified most people.

"No... no you didn't." She whispers. Dova lets her go. They walk again in silence before Dova is brought to a door. The quarters were dull, a single fur was left on a small bed. "What's your name?" He watches the girl fiddle about his room, fixing things like she was commanded. "I... it doesn't matter-" Dova stops her again, the girl bites her lip. "Asch..." Dova lifts a brow, considering her name.

"It's nice." The moments ruined by tacky, loud dripping. The girl, now known to him as Asch flames embarrassedly, grabbing hem of her dress to stunt the flow. Dova peers at the mess on the floor. "I'm sorry! I'll clean it-" even before she tries to scurry away, Dova has her. "No." He tells her firmly, eyeing her. "I'll clean it." Asch is puzzled, watching him get down on his knees.

Dova hums inwardly, looking at the trail of dried cume along her leg. Then he moves in, tongue poking out. "Oh! don't-" Dova licks up the inside of her leg, feasting upon the caking semen. Dova couldn't understand himself why he decided to do this. It was by no means pleasurable, in fact tasting his own cum wasn't pleasant. Still he cleaned it all away. Fianlly licking up her messy cunt. It tasted the most sour and salty here. It bubbles out, oozing like molasses. Dova Laps at it, enticing a sweet, featherlight whisper from Asch. Her skirt hides his head, but still Asch shakily places her palm to the back of his head. Dova licks the swollen hole tenderly, strocking his tongue and tasting fresh excitement.

Dova groans, muffled against her cunt, but the vibrations have the elf above him shaking. Her knees knock into his sides, squeezing them. Dova's hands trials up her legs, pulling her soft ass cheeks apart, opening her up more for his invading tongue. Asch gasps around her hand, trying to stifle her crys so no one would catch them. The tongue felt so warm, like before, but this time shame was readily eatting away at her. This time his working appendage felt good.

Her pulse quickens and she wiggles against his face, making stunted noises. Toes curled into the tiled floor, Asch attempts arches away. Although, Dova didn't allow such a thing, his body reacts with hers, moving along like a wave. Asch doubles over against him, muffling her shriek as she claws at his back. Dova is careful to clean her up this time, tenderly lapping at the sticky juices. Purring lightly as he listens to her gasp.

Dova steadies her as he gets to his full height, looking down at the little elf still catching her breath.

"I... I don't know your name" she shutters. Dova smiles lightly, wiping his face. "Dova."

 

Chapter 35: Alterius dabbles 1

Summary:

Death knight male blood elf/female blood elf

Pronounced
Alterius
Al-Teary-Us

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Asch awoke with a chill, gasping as she launches upward in the dark. The shadows grew as she pants, hand pressing to still her pounding heart.

Beyond the entrance to her bedroom, under the wide sheer of the curtain stood a ominous figure, the blue- so foreign to her- reminded her of old times, beautiful times when magic wasn't a crutch. They blink slowly, regarding her with terrifying accuracy. As if they could see much in the dark. If it wasn't for the subtle moon light that faded from the uncovered window beyond the room Asch would not have seen the figure.

Asch watches those eyes, knees curling into her chest, pressing against her ribs. "W-who goes there?!" The ghostly blue eyes tilt, as if they were trying to discern the question. "Don't you recognize me?" it said slowly. The voice was disturbing, darkly overtoned. As the shadow spoke, frost puffed out, mingling in the air.


The light shines dimly as it moves, taking a few steps to enter. Its hair was colourless, a perfect snowy white. As Asch pushes into the headboard, it halts, sucking in a hissing breath.

"Don't you remember your own husband?" The shadows lighten as her eyes adjust. Asch watches the outline take shape, the high foxtail, ruffled and standing high on a sharp face, forehead creased with concern. The shadows' cheeks were angled, set into a fine jaw. A thin scar ran down a flat brow, cutting down the pale cheek.

Asch sucked in a breath, now cold as stone, "Alterius?!" Softly, the shadow recognizes the name, glowing eyes peering into her face. "But you're... you're dead?!" The globes narrow, angered by her words.

"Get away! My husband is dead!" Asch is pushing into the headboard, terrified at the demon appearing as her long dead lover.

"He's dead!" She yells at it, furious and terrified, gulping down air as it tries to reach for her, halting frozen in place as her accusing words sting.


The demon rights itself, looking at her with wide unseeing eyes. "I see," it speaks bitterly, frowning over its shoulder. Asch watches it leave, clutching the bed sheets. The soft falls of its feet thump into the carpet.

Asch found no sleep as she stares at the entrance of her bedroom, looking at the frost gathered on the stained glass.

 

Asch had not thought much of her husband after he died, the pain was still ready inside her when she remembered birthdays that passed without him aging, or Christmas without gifts. Alterius Sunsorrow was declared dead two years ago, buried in the broken part of Silvermoon no one was allowed to enter anymore, Scourge infested the grounds and buildings, a thing Lor'themar was still trying to extinguish. Alterius was one of twenty royal guards sent to Northrend to assist Tirion Fordring.

Champions of the Horde in a trying time as a new Lich King rose to power. Asch had not seen Alterius return for some time, but when he arrived he was coated in flowers and painted armour, not breathing and vacant. Lor'themar was present as they buried him, touching Asch's hand in comfort. There was no comfort that day as she fell to her knees and cried into the sky, tears blurring her vision of the intricate and beautiful headstone.

They were freshly married, spent much of it in love and in bed, excited for each other's embrace. Shortly after, he was sent off to fight someone else's crusade, dying for someone else's war. It was one week of bliss before the letter came and then two years of waiting by the window for the trumpets and hawkstriders trotting with her healthy, alive husband.

When they did come she ran, happy and gripping her dress, so many wives followed her, flying into the arms of their husbands, the men leaping off their hawks to twirl and smile at their families embrace. Some women had babies to show.

The gates shadowed as the carts of flower covered caskets came through, Asch desperately searched for her husband, like eight other girls. As soon as one of the dark haired soldiers came to her with sorrow on his face she knew.

All the girls without their husbands knew and all wept, wailing there like wounded animals. Everyone bowed in sadness as it overtook the celebration. Slowly some girls went, Asch darted toward the carts, looking upon each of the dead elves until she found hers.

Young, they were both so young, Asch gripped the coffin, tears falling into the flowers. His face was cold to the touch, unmarred except a scar, healed poorly on his eye, his hands gripped a sword, stiff and unyielding. Asch cried that day, and almost everyday since.

Many didn't like her company anymore, older women told her she was too young to be a widow, to remarry and make children, but she wouldn't be happy. They said she would, but she wanted babies with his angled face and black hair.

 

Asch thought of Alterius, and the demon who wore his face as she picked pears from the vendor, inspecting them with a keen eye, before plopping them in her basket. A commotion stirred behind her, along the main road. Asch paid quickly for her goods and squeezed between people until she had a good spot to see what the noise was all about.

Dead horses, silver eyed and tall. Deathchargers as people called them, snorting out harsh breathes, they strode with purpose, slow enough that people could see clearly but quick enough not to linger. Elves among her threw dead fruit and spat curses. Five of them sped by, igniting fury into onlookers. "Who are they?" Asch says to anyone who would answer, watching at the burning white hooves leave scorch marks in the glossy pathway.


Someone spits out a cruel laugh. "What rock have you been hidden under girl?" a man a few people behind her says, rolling his eyes. "They-" he points a groomed finger "Are death knights." Death knights? "What are they?" Asch responds, looking at the man for answers. "The Lich King's dread riders, since been freed from the grasp of slavery." Guards now shush the crowd, waving them on their way. Asch quickly scurries back to the markets, the image of the mighty horses still present in her minds eye.

What she saw, the riders, these death knights, they looked unbothered by the crowds of angry elves. Asch could hear people whispering, some talking loudly about the new arrivals. She heard from passers that they were elves seeking clemency from Lor'themar. Asch frowns in thought, listening to all the gossip around the markets. Wondering what kind of deal those demons could be cutting.


"Demons..." Asch muttered, musing over an apple. Then it struck her. "No it couldn't-" Asch whips around, looking back to where elves now gathered to clean the scorch marks. "Alterius!" People around her scowl, shifting away and hurrying to their lives. "No- no he's dead!" She insists, clutching the fruit. "Dead and gone."

 

Alterius and his unwilling companions bring interest from people as they dismount in the royal courtyards, they were men he never knew, but became acquainted with during the uprising. They traveled through Northrend to the unwelcoming embrace of Slivermoon, once his home.

"So that wife of yours-" Devon Wingbloom knew of his plight, they all knew each other. In some ways Alterius considered them friends, at least as much as he could. Devon along with Tlyon Crimsonheart were the only other elves wishing to return to Slivermoon that he knew well. Others were made into death knights, but stayed to fight under the Ebon Blade.

"She here?" Devon himself was a father of three girls, all grown and married. His wife was in Undercity, a enchanting teacher, once his papers were signed he could go there and see them all.

"Yes," was all Alterius hisses out, frowning deeply at the bare wall. Alterius had told Devon of his wife, young and beautiful as Devon called her when shown the hidden drawing Alterius still kept of her. Since he drew the picture her hair had grown out.

Alterius mentioned nothing of last night when he slipped into their house, stood in their bedroom, was called a demon by his wife.

Lor'themar's guard ushered them inside, wary of their strange hue and frosting faces. The Regent lord was properly prepared and did not look any bit shocked by the dead that had just walked into his private solar.

"What is your purpose?" Lor'themar asks formally, Alterius was sure he knew the reason by now, but for such delicate things as this, it needed to be said clearly. "To have citizenship returned so we may serve the Horde, as before" Lor'themar regards Alterius as he speaks, the slight echo in his voice did not betray the baritone Lor'themar so clearly remembered.

"Lieutenant Sunsorrow?" He questions, a twitch of a smile ghosting his lips. "Yes-" he bows, "Regent lord." Alterius had only had a few kind and witty conversations with Lor'themar, Alterius was slightly surprised he remembered him.

Lor'themar frowns, clicking his tongue, "I'm sorry this is the fate to befall you." Alterius shrugs indignantly, "Not one I'd have chosen, but here we are." Lor'themar nods, "Yes, here we are. Now..."


Asch was alone, much like always. She ignores people as she walks past. Where she was going, Asch was not sure. But she walked- walked around the perfect bushes and pavement. A thing she often did when conflicted. A vision- a dream or otherwise of her husband. Eyes as blue as ice, rumoured to be the colour of the death knights that had arrived in their city. Was it a dream or was it real? Asch wasn't sure what to think. The facts were there, gossiped behind hands, but she saw five riders, five elves people said were counselling with Lor'themar. Everyone believed it was a trick, said no one could escape the Lich King. That they would ruin Silvermoon and kill their regent lord, rape their women and kill children as they saw fit.

Asch didn't believe five men could do so much before being stopped, but then, she wondered if they could be killed at all. Were they undead or immortal? There were already stories that people had woven the day they arrived. Asch didn't believe anything she heard, but pondered over the possibilities as she roamed the wide street.

Thundering steps behind her caused a halt, and terrified she pushed back into the bush, gripping thorns with her soft hands, cutting them deeply. The dreadsteed reared to a stop, a ghostly bellow reputed from the creature and started Asch's heart.

Atop the horse was the shadow, the demon claiming to be her husband. The elf, pale as death shushed the horse, slapping it with a wide hand to calm it. Asch's chest heaves, panting loudly as he dismounts; the horse is stiff, waiting without making a move, not even breathing.

"Asch," the voice from the night brought her frightened eyes up from the beast, again the demon was there, looking at her. "I'm sorry if I scared you-" His hands go to grab her, and Asch releases the thorns, bloody hands held up to defend herself from him. "You're hurt." Concern crept into the dreadful echo of his voice. Asch trips into the pavement, falling on her backside.

People peeked at them, watching since the horse made a racket. Asch notices now all the eyes watching them.

"Get away!" She screeches, as the demon persists "Asch it's me-" Asch scrambled back, "Stop- someone help!" Alterius curses, "It's me Asch!" His hands shove into his chest in gesture, a pained look crossing his ghostly features. Frost painted the ground where he stood.

Guards poised beyond them, gripping swords and shields at ready. The demons hands go up, attempting to show no threat to them, "Asch please- it's Alterius!" Just then, the guards rear up behind him, "What is the meaning of this! Get away from her, death knight!" Alterius bares his teeth, hating how he spat the word, "This is my wife! I was just trying..." he looks back at her, a hopeless look dawns on his features, "It's me... me! Asch!" once more he tries.

"My husband's dead!" She yells, pushing further away into the pavement, her dress scrapping into the loose rocks, "You can't be... you can't be my husband!" Alterius looks between the guards, the people.

"It is me! Look!" As a last resort Alterius pulls the drawing out, letting it fall open, showing it to her. Behind him, the guards look confused, tilting over to see the parchment.

Asch struggles to breath as she looks at the paper, seeing herself, remembering when she posed for that. The day before he left, he asked her to sit so he could sketch her, to have her with him while up in Northrend.

"Until dusk" Alterius cries, as Asch flinches to life, "And dawn.... our vows-" Asch gasps balling her hands, dirt and blood clump in them, "Alterius? It... it's not possible!" Alterius kneels, extending his hand to her, "It's me, my stars," he says a thin smile crossing his pale face. Asch's lip quivers, "My sun" she gasps, pushing forward.


Alterius meets her half way, embracing her for the first time in ages, "You died," her voice was wet with emotion, tears fall into his neck. Alterius gathers her in a protective embrace, "I'm here." Asch cries loudly, babbling out sentences surely no one can understand, she doesn't care about all the people watching the display and the guards gathered around them.

His voice was so unfamiliar, so callous and dark, only hints of the original deep and calming sound comes from the pale blueish lips.

What came after was awkward, not all the people or the guards, but the next. Alterius helps Asch onto his horse, cold and unyielding, as was her dead husband as he climbs up behind her, caging her from the sides with his arms. The horse was steady, it was as if it was gliding instead of the thundering passed the pavilions, scorch marks left in its wake. Asch was not bumped or jostled by its racing, quicker then anything she rode before. The speed of the horse was unnatural like its owner, and too quick did they make it to the estate.

Alterius dismounts, helping her down like a gentlemen. It was strange, being back home with him right beside her, watching him hold himself with the same grace as he possessed when alive.

Alterius walks through the house he once knew, looking at everything Asch had changed. It wasn't much really, just a few tables and furniture pieces. The house was new when they bought it, a grant had been given to him and they used it to afford a place such as this. Alterius assumes she was able to keep it because the state supports widows of soldiers. Alterius was a Lieutenant, so it was all easily affordable.

The colours were no longer white, the sheer fabric was pinks and greens, some blues and reds. Friends long before decorated the house to be a honeymoon suite, since he couldn't take her on a trip because of the war. Alterius wanders toward the bedroom, their bedroom.

Here he remembered rose petals all over the room, vials of oils and perverted gifts their friends had left for the virgin couple to discover. Now it was less formal and sexual, a loved space. Alterius was sent away before they could finish their honeymoon.


Few things beside the bed were in this room, a table covered in clothing, a closet half opened revealing many neatly packed things, a carpet was put in Alterius had never seen before, and the curtains were jaded. Asch changed the sheets from the wedding white to a nice baby blue, it then occurred to him that Asch might have changed the sheets many times. It had been a very long time since he saw their home.

What he remembered was a home made into an impromptu get away, the kitchen petaled with roses and stocked with silly food that was more sexual then filling, now it was set to purpose. Alterius felt silly and horrible at the same time. They were young and inexperienced, Asch was a new wife, still learning how to be one, Alterius was a military man that rose to his stature.

Men poked fun at him, he remembers, the day they shipped out his new wife came, kissing him goodbye and wishing him safe. They goaded him, asking all kinds of things, like how it felt to be married or how good it was. Alterius wouldn't dare tell them anything shameful, but did divulge how satisfied he seemed to make her.

One older elf had reminisced about his wife, telling him how excited she was to learn how to be a good wife, Asch was much the same. Mostly she was interested in cooking, they all called him lucky.

Alterius didn't feel lucky then, certainly didn't now. It ate away that she was alone, learning to care for a house and do jobs meant for men, for him.

Asch hovers by him as he looks around the house, twisting her hair, not knowing what to do with her fingers.

Alterius turns, regarding her again with a new light in his eyes. "You're the most beautiful women I've ever seen." Asch is struck by his words, head shaking as her brow furrows, where did that one from?

Alterius answers without a prompt.

"I never got to tell you, before I left. I wanted too." He tisks softly, "But I didn't want the soldiers to make fun of me." Asch couldn't think of anything to say as he walks toward her. Awkwardness settled again, Asch wasn't sure what to do. What was she supposed to do?

"We should sleep" she blurts. Regret sets in soon after, Alterius backs up a little, a stranger in his own home. "It's late." Asch tells him. Quickly, without thinking, Asch opens her palm. Alterius takes her hand, letting her lead.

Asch licks her lips, unsure of what to do now that they've arrived. "You... sleep don't you?" Stupid, as soon as she said it she felt stupid. Alterius was merciful and simply says: "Yes." Armour and layers were equally discarded, the sides of the room were harshly divided.
Asch climbs into bed, beckoning him to follow. It had been a long time since someone else had been in the bed with her.

Slight relief washes over Alterius as he gets into bed, his side was hard, unused. As if he thought Asch would be unfaithful.

Asch surprisingly cuddles toward him, bringing her hands to wrap around his middle, like he remembered.

Being with her husband was strange, strange because Asch did not know how to be with him. Now it was stranger than before his new appearance. Asch found he ate, slept and acted like any blood elf. Word of the death knight and his wife spread through the districts. Alterius was gawked at, distrust and hatred ran rampant among the people.


Some even curse him on the streets, only trying to accompany his wife on a journey to the markets. Now it was mandatory, Alterius had to stay with his wife because of the death threats. They said horrible things.


"Disgusting- fucking a corpse," she heard one say, "Disease-ridden scourge." Asch held her head high as she was always told and stood with her husband as they went down the bazaar.


Asch hurried them, buying what she needed and made sure to duck out of sight until they got him. Alterius was quiet, he seemed upset. Asch knew why.

"Asch..." his warped voice brought her attention, looking at his struck face. "Do you... believe them? What they say?" Asch gaps at him, eyes wide. "Of course not! Pure my husband... you aren't really dead-" he was, but he was nothing like Sylvanas or her forsaken. He was frozen in place, a perfect image of what he once was. Alterius was slow to react, slow to do anything in the moment. But he reached for her. Asch gladly cradled him, wrapping together like a pair of vines.

"I miss you..." his fingers clutch and dig into her back, as if trying to desperately hold onto her. "You don't have to anymore," she whispers quelling his fears. Alterius thought she would fly away, like the beautiful dove his wife was. Thought she would escape his reach and forget about him.

His lips ghosted over her own, the cold breath made her shiver. "Can... can I?" Asch remembered his kisses tasted like honey and love. "Yes..." he carefully pressed his soft, cold lips to hers. Like the first time, but worse. He was scared. Alterius tasted new, like frozen dew drops. Asch clutches his shirt, nervous now herself. Alterius deepens the kiss, happy for the contact. Then pulls away, huffing lightly. "I... sorry." He mutters, embarrassed. Asch only remembers him as eager and wanting to please.

Asch smiles fondly, fixing a stray clump of hair in place. It reminded her of their wedding. They were both eager virgins. Now Alterius was eager for a whole new reason. Asch was too. "It's okay," she promises. "You're just like I remember." Asch smiles at his shock. "A little cold, but still you." Alterius looked as though she had just given him the greatest gift. Asch hums presently, nuzzling his clean shaven jaw. "Come on, lets go to our room." Alterius was very happy to do so.

Notes:

EDITED
JANUARY 20, 2019

Chapter 36: Zephyrius dabbles 1

Summary:

Male nightelf/female nightelf.

Pronounced
Zeph-fairy-us

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

In a culture such as his, Zephyrius found sex and companionship in every vestibule. Finding a mate however was escaping. Zephyrius was of the highest blooded nobles, only the best genes were permitted to wed and breed with his own. This was the Shadowdawn way. Family and legacy meant everything. It was an absolute. Zeph had atrociously fine taste, anything else was unacceptable.

His skin was dark ashen purple, a very royal shade. His hair was a slick navy blue, almost black. His eyes were dewy orange and his nose was pointed. He was incredibly handsome. His ears were long and covered in chains. He was a Druid as his right.

His father and mother stood arm and arm to his side, looking passed him and the many newborns laid sleeping in their beds. Zeph was to be betroth. Zeph was uninterested in the babies, his father would chose and his mother would acquire the families favor. Thus far he decided upon pink, pale and purple baby girls. Zeph waited for them at the entrance. Another child caught his fathers eyes.

"Unique..." he mutters, long fingernail touching the sleeping babe. "Darling what do you think?" His mother peers over, looking down her nose at the child. His mother studies her critically. "Her coloring is nice. It is hard to say much else." How could they it was a baby. "Weathergold. That is a fine estate." His father muses. All the infants here were of fine estates. In fact, they were not the only house looking for matches. All along the rows elves were picking and poking at newly born infants. "Talk to the mother. We will arrange a deal."


It only took three days to square away the details. The girl was named Asch, she would grow under her mothers tutelage until she bled. Zeph continued to be unconcerned, he only spared a glance at the mother. She was tired and still puffy, but the woman was breathtaking, light skinned and soft eyed. She only spoke when spoken too and dared not look anyone in the eyes. At least his bride would be taught properly. Zephyrius shook Lord Weathergold's hand before departing.


The years dragged on and the only one counting them was his mother. His brides sixteenth birthday had rolled around and Zeph expectantly sent a gift, a fine silk dress. His mother has kept relations with Lady Weathergold. Any day now, she said in letters.

That day came with a gift of spoiled sheets. Zeph stared at the bloomed stain on the white silk, raising a brow as his mother excitedly clapped, reading aloud the note sent along. "I hope you enjoy this gift as we had." She hums, "the planning may finally be put into place." Even the date was already set. Zeph was to meet his bride in two days.

 


Asch cried when she awoke to the stain, her mother assumed it was the pain of her stomach cramping from her time. It was not.

Asch's mother set aside everything that day to dress her for his arrival. Her hair was pinned in intricate patterns and woven with roses and daisies. Her mother said he was a highly respected Druid and they would acknowledge such, doing so they put leaves and vines in every strand of her hair. It looked strange when they finished and Asch felt like a grape vine, they kept her face clean of any make up and had her only dress in white. The gown was very concealing, the neck was high and no bare skin showed beyond her wrists, Asch was also given flat clean shoes.

"There!" Her mother said, stepping back toward the servants helping, "he will be very pleased with you!" The arrangement would only be complete if he agreed, Asch wanted so badly for him to find fault. Even if it meant her being beaten, it would be far better then to be married to a stranger. The night was dragging on and Asch felt the weight of all the flowers straining her neck. "Ah! I see them! They're here!" Asch held her back tears.


The estate was much smaller than his own, but Zeph didn't judge them to harshly. The Weathergold's were just as wealthy as his own. They chose to live here because this was their ancestral home. Beyond the gates stood both the Lady Weathergold and Lord. Zeph could not see his betrothed. Zeph willed his black saber cat to halt, easily sliding off with grace.

Lady Weathergold bows in respect and waits for her husband to speak for them. "Elune-adore Sir Shadowdawn." Zeph was now lord of his house, so his father was addressed as such. "Elune-adore Lord Weathergold." Zeph inclined his head toward the other couple, "shall we?"

They head inside.

Zeph remembered little of his bride. Although she was an infant it didn't surprise him. As they walked into the hall, the Weathergold's took them to their gardens. Zeph found it very peaceful here, but of course he would. It was a very fine trick they pulled, it also made him wonder if they were distracting him from something.

"Asch!" Lord Weathergold called, commanding his daughter forward. Zeph watches the overhang of vines part as they move into the seated area. His bride was awaiting him there at the entrance, standing with her hands folded and head down.

"Ah! She grew up so nicely," Zeph's father comments, his mother hummed in agreement. Zeph idly ignored their meaningless chatting and sauntered forward, for a moment no one noticed and than all at once it became quiet as a grave.

"Look at me girl." Zeph commanded, at first the girl didn't know what to do, but Zeph was patient. Asch swallows her tears, her betroths voice was shockingly deep. Asch tilts her slim neck up, blinking at the man that was to be her husband. He was incredibly handsome, his face was stern and his jaw was almost too perfect. Everything about him screamed order and reserve. Asch felt the weight of his eyes and the heavy silence baring down on her.


Zeph watches her, she had become more beautiful then her mother for certain. The wide doe eyes watch him as he cups her jaw, inspecting her. Thus far he found no faults. Zeph pulls one flower from her hair, watches as the pale strands become loose. Her mother gasps lightly, obviously appalled. It was very inappropriate for ladies to have their hair loose in public. Still, Zeph pulls until most of the flowers are gone and her hair hangs beautifully around her face.

Stepping one pace back he regards her, rose in hand twisting between his long fingers. Asch's eyes dart to him and the rose, Zeph smirks as he manipulates the rose in growing longer and turning the petals from red to yellow, the shade of his new brides eyes.

Zeph angles the new flowers to her, beckoning her to take it. Their hands brush as she hastily plucks it from his fingers.

"Yes," he says turning his face to speak to the others, "she will do."

Notes:

EDITED
Aug 1/18

Chapter 37: Zephyrius dabbles 2

Summary:

Night elf male/night elf female.

Pronounced
Zeph-Fariy-Us

Chapter Text

Zeph didn't hate his sisters, but he didn't like them much either.

Weiss, Fey, Temperance and Stella. They were all younger than he and almost all Watchers. Although, they did look beautiful. Since it was a ceremony involving a Druid everything was covered in flowers, vines and moss.


All four of his sisters were dressed in pink and showered in yellow flowers. Zeph was amused by their pains. Weiss, the second oldest of the five was the most vocal about the dresses. "Will you be silent?" Zeph was rubbing his temple. His siblings insisted to be with him, in his dressing room. Stella adored dresses and was quiet, sweetly brading vines that she snatched from the overhang on the roof.


Zeph reached over, pushing the loose lock of hair behind her pink ear. Stella turns as his finger caress her soft cheek. "Shaha lor'ma, brother." Zeph smiles softly, Stella was still a child, not yet twelve years old.

"Mhm," he hums, Stella puts down her braded vines. "Brother, what does she look like? Is she beautiful?" Zeph grunts, moving himself to face his little sister, "come little star, and I will tell you," Stella hops into his lap, excited like all little girls should be.


Zeph indulged his littlest sister since she was a baby, telling her stories of forest nymphs and faries. The sense of wonder was lost on him, but he wouldn't allow it to disappear in his beautiful little sister. Unlike he and his other sisters, Stella was pink where they were all purple. Her hair was mossy green while her sisters had blues and black hues. Stella was by far his favourite.

"She has very long white hair," Zeph pulls a flower off his sisters head, it amused her greatly to see the flower change and colour. Stella watches with wonder as he turns it from red to white. "Her eyes are sunny yellow," the flower turns yellow, "and she is as pale as mother moon." This time he turns the rose to a gorgeous silver, shining in the lamp light. Stella claps, ecstatic as he places the rose back, nearly tucking it away into the windings of her intricate hair style.

"Will you have babies? I like babies! I want to be an aunt!" Zeph tensed a little. "Yes little star, many I hope." It wasn't a lie. He was suppose to have children, it was his duty too do so for his family. Zeph wanted children, pretty baby girls and proud handsome boys. "I can't wait to see the new Lady Shadowdawn, what about you old man, are you excited to see your child bride?" Weiss was snapping like a crocodile, festering like an open wound.

"Enough, don't be rude." Temperance hisses, Zeph stares flatly, "what? He's fifty years older than her." Weiss was always a snippy girl, angry about many things, but never having a reason for it. She was privileged to be this way. Zeph never thought it was a good excuse, but her hot blooded fury kept her alive.

Still, she was his sister. "Yes. Weiss, I am. And I am much older then you. Duty is duty. You yourself are lucky father didn't give you away like a broodmare." This insulted Weiss greatly, and it showed. "This girl is to be my wife. The lady of the house. She had no choice in the matter and you were too close to having the same fate. Don't insult her." Weiss seemed properly chastised. As per usual.

Zeph was very clever. Far more clever then his sisters. Weiss was just angry and always tried to argue with him. She got mad when he scolded her like their father, but she was troublesome.

It was mainly why she called him old man.

Fey stayed quiet, off to the side, out of the four sisters, Fey and Temperance were the sweetest and the most quiet. Fey adored her brother and spoke to him often. Zeph made it a priority to be involved with all his sisters. Make time and learn about their days.
Fey was always quiet, even her laughter was light and sweet. She loved being a watcher but wasn't very outspoken.

Temperance was defensive, she was always throwing herself in Weiss and Zeph's arguments.


"Come, it's time."


Asch sunk in her chair, the dress was made of soft silk, leaves and sheer net made up the train. It had a high neck, also made of leaf designs. Her hair was again up in a bun full of flowers. Her father opened the door and it was time.


Zeph stood, his robes were thick and the massive shoulderguards almost made him slump. Zephyrius wouldn't dare. He stood tall, his back protested from the weight, but he stood tall. The crown on his head felt scratchy, it too was made of leaves and stif sticks.

The isle opened up, his bride came through and the slow strums played. Zeph inhaled, puffing his chest. Asch's hand rests stiffly on her fathers arm. Until they got to him, then it was pressed into his own hand. She was shaking and her hands were slightly sweaty, but he understood.

"Who takes this woman?"

"I do. Zephyrius Shadowdawn."


Zephyrius was tall, almost imposingly so. He didn't smile at her. It was like he had no emotion. Asch almost shrivelled under the weight of his stare. "I do." His voice was so deep.

"And do you take Zephyrius Shadowdawn, to be your husband, your guardian and life partner?"

"I... I do!" She blurted the last part out by accident. People watching thought she was just being eager by the sudden burst and loudness, they cooed and awed, thinking she was excited rather then nervous and terrified. They turn, Zeph making them do so.

"You my now kiss your bride."

Asch tilts her head up. Zephyrius meets her lips. His lips were very soft. His hands held her waist, weightful. He held her very firm. Asch trembles, her hands reach for something, they claw into his robes, too nervous for anything else.

He was so warm, all too soon he parted. Zeph loosened, his hand pressed into her back.

Xxx

Zephyrius scowls at his father, glancing over at his new wife, watching her sit. "You will not do that too her. I will not allow it." His father frowns back at him. "It's tradition boy!" Zeph hated when his father demeaned him as if he as a child. "She's a child! Barely of age and you want strange drunk men to strip her for some tradition?!" This tradition was barbaric. Men would call for the bedding, have the fun of stripping the bride naked and giving her to the husband. And too who it mattered would watch to make sure of consummation. That was unacceptable to Zephyrius.

"She's already terrified. I won't allow it."


His father made a face, he conceded, but he had a look about him. One Zeph knew meant it wasn't over.


Still, he swept away, thundering toward his wife. She was staring at her lap. "Have you eaten enough?" Asch looks up at him. "Y-yes I have, thank you." She was too polite. Zephyrius appreciated order and reserve, but he also had four sisters with all different and bazar personalities. Zephyrius was suppose to share his life with her for the rest of... forever. He wanted to see something more then a timid girl.

"The bedding!" His father's deep voice reverts off all the walls and, seconds after all the male guests voices as well. Asch flinches badly, panting out worried noises of fright. Zeph growled in anger, "come here- behind me." Asch sucked in a shaky breath, eyes pouring tears. "There will be no bedding!" His voice, it was so loud, so angry. His hand was holding her, pressing into her hip. His thumb was pressing so hard, but it didn't hurt.

"No one will not touch her." The fury Zephyrius had in his face was mighty and consuming.

"Come now boy, it's her tradition!" Zephyrius knew many of these men now pawing at his table. They were all heads of noble families. "Brother..." Weiss was the one to get his attention, she was angry but also looked very worried. "Ill stay with her." Zeph fumes "no I won't allow this!" He quietly snarls, Weiss glares at him, about to speak but she was interrupted.

"Give her here, don't make us wait boy." His father gave him a knowing look, one that said he wasn't going to allow any more of this. Zeph let go and glared at his father as Asch was yanked from behind him. Weiss was hot on their heels as they lead his wife into the canopy behind the dinning tables.

Weiss watches as the terrified girl is poked and groped out of her wedding dress. The watcher in her elf hatred for this ceremony, but didn't dare speak against it. It didn't take them very long to strip her down into nothing but the thin silky scrape of cloth Zephyrius was only suppose to see. Weiss hisses, smacking their hands away. "You've done your purpose, leave the girl alone." Some groaned at her annoyed, some didn't listen. To those that thought it wise, she hit very hard.

"We're just having our fun," one noble griped. Weiss gave a cruel, almost twisted smile. "And you've had it. Her purity is for my brother only- now leave!" Weiss was a shrill woman, demanding and beautiful. Two things that men found both annoying and hard to ignore. Weiss watches them go, grumbling about unfairness. It was all disgusting. "T-thank you s-so much" the poor girl behind her hiccuped. Weiss reguards her. She was crying, her hair falling in waves of white. All the flowers crumpled at her feet. Weiss felt terrible for arguing with her brother.


This poor girl could have been her once. Weiss swallows, giving her best smile. "Here let me help-" there wasn't much they could do. The wedding dress was long gone with her father, taken away somewhere. Weiss helped untangle he hair a little, getting the knots out best she could with her fingers. "Come lets get you into the bed..." the wedding bed was massive. All the sheets were white and soft. Weiss pulled off all the unnecessary pillows and drew back the heavy comforter before reguarding her brothers wife, now curled up in the middle of the bed. She looked small, although given the size Weiss imagines anyone looked small in that bed.

"He will be kind," Weiss promises, her brother had a gentle heart. He liked to hide it behind his nature. "I have to leave now. It'll be alright. No one can get inside- I will make sure." Asch nods quietly, letting her go. Weiss felt awful, a pit in her stomach.


Zephyrius was very angry, stif as girls giggled about him, removing his robes and crown. They touched his arms, squeezing the muscles as they tittered. Zeph just wanted this to end. They pulled his heavy robe away, leaving him only in pants. The girls weren't permitted to remove those however and for upset at how quickly it ended. Zephyrius was grateful and unconcerned as he pushed passed them into the room.

What he found didn't surprise him. His poor little wife was huddle in the middle of their bed, wiping tears away with the heel of her hand. Sniffling softly. "Are you alright?" Of course she wasn't, but Zeph didn't know what else to say. It got her attention, she tried to smile at him, "y-yes.. your sister was very k-kind." Relief filled him. Weiss would always argue and fight with him, but came through when he needed it most.

"I'm so sorry this was done to you." And he was, Zephyrius was furious and he would be discussing tonight at length with his father. Zephyrius never understood the need to shame the bride like this. "It's.. alright, it's not your fault." His duty was to protect her.

The door opened again behind Zeph, another elf, only slightly shorter then Zephyrius bowed deeply. Asch was puzzled, staring at the other. They were suppose to ignore him, but the mortification upon her face made the guest speak up. "I am here to assure consummation." Zeph nodded once, acknowledging him before striding forward. "He will only stay until he is sure we are joined," Zephyrius knew that it didn't help.


Pushing his personal feelings aside, Zeph steeled himself. He would what was needed and nothing more. Asch yelps as he pulls her under him, hiking up the little dress. Zephyrius took a moment to admire his wife before parting her legs. He allowed her to keep the dress pooled at her belly, but Zephyrius removed his pants completely, unashamed of his own nudity. "It will hurt," he says, gracing her with a moment to compose herself before moving forward. Asch cried out as his forced forward. Zephyrius did everything he could to ignore her until he heard the door close.


Then showered her face in apologetic kisses, pecking away her salty tears. Asch whimpered, miserable. "I'm sorry," he whispers, removing himself. The blood dotted the silk sheets, smeared all along his dark coloured cock. Asch lays there in tears, snivelling. Zephyrius felt wretched. He was about to turn away let her hate him as a hand came to stop him. Below him, Asch swallows her tears, rubbing them away with her other hand "please..." she whispers, "come b-back." Zephyrius was astonished and showed it upon his face, "what?!" He doesn't know what else to say, "why?"


"It's my duty as your w-wife to give you children," she says it as though it was and easy thing to do. Her soft hand caresses his face, pulling him to her. Their foreheads rest together can Zephyrius only stare, "please" she whispers again, "you are my husband."

Zephyrius frowns against her, feeling his skin bunch along her forehead, "you... you want this?" Asch nods against him.

Asch was terrified of him, even now. What she was more scared of was her father. Zephyrius was handsome and showed her kindness, if not for her intervening he would have turned away and left her alone. But they couldn't do that. Both knew it was important to have children. They were now sharing their lives. Asch didn't want to be terrified of her husband forever. It seemed to Asch Zephyrius didn't either.

"I will be more gentle," he says to her. Asch shakes her head, "you don't have too. It doesn't hurt now." She was lying. It was throbbing like an opened wound. He looks suspicious of her. This time, Zephyrius goes slow, careful. Asch gasps, the ache increases, Asch digs her body into the pillows, whining out as Zephyrius fills her. Zephyrius mouths at her neck, biting the flesh. "Shh," he mutters around her throat. Asch bites a cry, taking comfort him his strong hands on the back of her thighs. Zephyrius easily fit inside the passage easier by blood.

Zephyrius likes the way her hands cling to him. The soft noises swim in his ears. "Zeph..." she gasps. For the first time his name was spoken from her lips. Zephyrius kisses harder, pushes his hips harder. The pain melted into pleasures and his name was sung into the beds canopy.


The morning brought Zephyrius' rage. It was blistering and destroyed everything in its wake. The first he turned it on was his father. The wave of absolute fury was astonishing. A bear raged, so would Zephyrius. "You dared after I told you! What do you think this is? A game? Was she your fun? That's my wife you fucking fool!" Zephyrius was lord of his house, his father held no power.

"It's tradition boy! All girls go through it-" "and my sisters? Would you allow that? Allow them to be touched by drunks?" This awoke something alive in his father. "They are my daughters-" "and that was my wife. I am yet your only son and you let them befoul the lady of our house. She will carry my heirs. And the future of this house and you fuckinf encouraged that disgusting-" Zephyrius hisses out, so enraged he can't think.

"I'm taking her to my home. And I will not see her disgraced again."

Chapter 38: Kil'jaeden dabbles 1

Summary:

Kil’Jaeden/original female Draenei

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Asch watches him pace with a mix of pity and anger.

Kil'jaeden had her chained to the floor, locked at each limb. Her clothes were in tatters, almost falling to pieces.

Asch's own misfortune stares her right in the face, but all she managed to say was, "how could you?" As if he'd have an explanation for all the horrors. He whips around, the foul green of his smouldering eyes burning boldly at her in wide fury. "I did what was necessary!" His voice was befouled. Awful in it's own hellish way. Gravel scrapped across wet rock. Asch forgot what he used to sound like. "You had a choice, you could have fled, but you forsake your own people instead... your own wife-" Asch broke off in a sob, her whisper almost silent to any ear. Kil'jaeden heard her and raged.

"You believe yourself so high and mighty- you're all fools if you believe Sargeras will fall to your light!" Asch narrows her eyes.


"You have." Kil'jaeden lurches forward, stomping his massive hooves into the rocky ground and advancing himself so close to her face, Asch can taste the fel consuming him. The burning scar upon his face leaked tainted blood. Kil'jaeden's wings flapped, exposing the shreds and broken bones that was left. The champions had won, leaving Kil'jaeden to lick his wounds in the bellows of some dank hell, where he held his wife captive.

Argus, their poor home world hung meekly above them, burning and dripping. Looking as though it was due to fall right out of the sky. Asch had fled from that accursed place many years ago, but Illidan saw fit to gut the space between their worlds. Seeing it now, looking at it burn freshly. It hurt more then the day she watched it explode with demons and war. So many died. So many wept as they clung to the glass, begging for their people.

Velen was on his knees that day, crying silent tears as their beautiful home was ravaged and raped. Asch remembers clinging to him, sobbing.

Even now the gash was still fresh, renewed not only by Illidan, but by her husband as well. His illusion had worn away, he was no longer a massively tall Eredar, but one who was only a head taller then his wife. As Asch remembers him being. His blood dotted the floor as he stares her down, snarling foully.

"You are a fool." He tells her once again. Asch felt deeply hurt by him, remembering how they used to be. "Why am I here?" She demands, instead of thinking of the past. It was better where it was, out of her mind and best left forgotten. "To amuse me," his grin was sickly, "don't you remember? You used to be very good at it." Asch frowns, eyes widening as his voice grew taunting.


"Don't tell me you forgot already?" He mocks, taking a claw and running it along her face. Asch did all she could to push away, but he followed her every move like he knew what she'd do before she did. "You use to wake me up at insufferable hours, begging me." Asch swallows a lump, jaw tightening harshly as his black nail curved around her chin. "You were a wanton little whore. Tell me- who do you spread your legs for now?" His smirk was wide and unforgiving. Asch had never once let herself be touched. Not as though many were interested. The wife of the Deceiver. The Defiled. Asch let a tear slip down her cheek and he laughs.

"You weep for him? Such wasted tears. He will not see them when I am finished." Asch trembles, shaking her head as much as he allows. "Stop it!" Kil'jaeden laughs again, a cruel sounding noise. "Do you give him what you did me?" His claw cuts the scraps away, exposing her beaten and bruised flesh to his feasting eyes. "When I find him, I'll let him watch. Show him all the things I did to you." Despite his wounds, Kil'jaeden pushes her down, forcing her legs open, "make him see how good you take my cock and then, I will kill him." Asch can only cry into the stone floor as he has his way.

Asch remembers those nights passed. Kil'jaeden always liked too indulge her. Only because he knew just how much she wanted to make a family. Asch always spoke about a little boy, with his skin and dusty silver hair or a baby girl with adorable pig tails with her white hair.

Kil'jaeden once wanted many children. Now Asch wondered what he wanted. In his wake was destruction.

Kil'jaeden pushed her back, forcing her down while his other hand curled up her inner thigh, making her hips raise to his groin. His beard brushed her neck, the tentacles curling dangerous tight. "Say my name- like you used too," the last part was hissed angrily. Asch cried loudly, quivering "say it," he demands, squeezing her.

"Jay...!" She gasps, Kil'jaeden hums pleasantly. "Good girl."


Asch's hands were bound tightly but the rest of her limbs were free. The room was bathed in darkness and it was almost like it used to be. Kil'jaeden laid on his side, his broken wings faced her. Asch could almost see them. Crippled beyond repair. Demon magic would fix them, somehow.


Xxx

Kil'jaeden slams the door, turning his attention to her immediately. "You..." he starts, tapering off as he approaches. It's as though he doesn't know what to say. Kil'jaeden hesitates, watching her and choosing his words carefully. "My spies cannot find your paramour." Asch stares at him, "of course not," she barks, "there isn't one!" Kil'jaeden looks oddly baffled by this, both angry and happy somehow.

"You never found another lover?" Asch scowls at him, almost forgetting her situation as a whole. As if it was them, back home in their beautiful villa arguing like they used too. This time it wouldn't end in sex and laughing. "No!"

"Why?!" He snarls insidiously, looking borderline confused. Asch knew that look, remembered it on his old face. Kil'jaeden used to pout when he was confused, his thick brows would dip just enough that he had a subtle frown, his lip juts just so that it almost looks adorable. Now it was jaded by demonic features, but Asch could still see it.

Why had Asch not remarried? Found another man? She was scared. Velen offered her annulment, but she said no. Because?

"Our people don't believe in divorce." That was true, while it was allowed, most times it wasn't needed. Eredar believed in soulmates, if you were chosen, they were your mate.

Kil'jaeden, for better or worse was Asch's chosen. Even despite the fact that he didn't choose her.

Kil'jaeden snorted, laughing at her. "Oh, I see how sweet." His voice was taunting, full of laughter. "My wife believes I can change, don't you?" His dark rumbling laughter reverts off the cave. "You stayed married to me all these years because you still love me..." his wings clapped grossly loud. Asch doesn't say anything. Doesn't look at him.


"My my. What an interesting development," he moved like a snake, snaring her ankle and yanking her forward. Asch yelps, terrified. "How much do you still love me?" Asch shakes her head, "stop!" Kil'jaeden bites her, looming like a gargoyle. Asch cried out, "I thought you liked it when I bit you?" His teeth were wet with blood, the marks were deep in her blue skin. "You liked it when people saw you with my mark- hmm..." Kil'jaeden purrs, "interesting indeed. How would Velen see you now? Broken under my heel... I think I'll give you back. Once I've finished..."


Xxx

Asch was handled without care, dropped nearby deliverance point. Forced to walk up the hill toward the safety of the army.

Illidan saw her first, tilting his massive head. Then he yelled after Khadgar and Velen. Velen pushed to get to her first, covering her with his own body. "Bring her clothes! I need to take her to Dalaran at once!"

 

Notes:

EDITED Dec 21, 2017

Chapter 39: Dobera dabbles 1

Summary:

Male Draenei/Female Draenei

WARNING
MAJOR LEGION SPOILERS.

This is a real short chapter... oops...

PRONOUNCED

DOUGH-BRUH

Chapter Text

The eclipse of Argus hung like a wound, gushing with new and old emotion. The burning embers of Kil'jaeden's body float at Dobera's feet.


He whirled his massive body, his tail ripping at the embers. Dobera's nose was filled with burning flesh, putrid so close.

"What have you done?!"

"A means to an end." Was his only defence for this atrocity, "a means- you're fucking mad!" "Perhaps-" Dobera roars for silence, which is given. "This is unspeakable!" In his train were many Draenei, many who escaped like him from Argus. They were inconsolable, wailing and staring at their dead home. Dobera and his party were thousand and thousands older then Illidan was, but he glances at them, as matron would stare at unruly children.

"I have brought Argus so we may finally rid our world of demons." His reason was righteous, but Dobera did not care.

"Did you overlook the pain it would cause my people? No one has suffered under the legions foot longer then the Draenei!" Illidan turns, fianlly looking at him as if equal.

"I will not deny your importance. You were instrumental in Kil'jaeden's defeat. However this outweighs your pain and importance," Illidan spits his last words, Dobera couldn't believe what he was hearing. "What then, you expect me to storm my home, fight your war and retake the demon hell because you've brought me the convenience?!" Dobera aims his mace at illidan's face, snarling.

"I killed Gul'dan, I stood and suffered Kil'jaeden- they were my victories. You were just there!" Illidan returned his feral snarl with equal measure. Dobera however was not scared. "I defeated you once Betrayer. I will do it again." Dobera did not like Illidan, because Illidan held no love for any people, naive he was to think Illidan at least respected Dobera's people enough not to hurt them like this, but he has been grossly wrong.

"I've no doubt you will, Defiler's end." He used the title mockingly. As if Illidan was also calling him a betrayer. It was true. Now both Achimonde and Kil'jaeden were defeated, by Dobera's own hand. In a way, it was a betrayal. Dobera huffs, Lowering his mace, thrusting it into his belt. "You know not the grief you cause- don't care. But fine, Stromrage. I will once again walk the maw of the damned and fight your battles and kill your enemies."

Illidan laughs at him, crossing his arms "they are not your enemies?" Dobera reguards the flying embers, catches one in a gentle fist.

"No. They are my brothers."


Velen had always wise words, nothing he said was without purpose or meaning, Dobera envied him so. "You do not celebrate," he observes, coming to sit with Dobera. Dobera inclines his head, a half bow in respect to his high priest. "There is nothing to celebrate." Velen raises a brow, "it was a great victory. You saved Azeroth."

"At what cost?" Dobera's mutters into his ale.

"Do you miss them? Kil'jaeden and Archimonde?" Dobera felt his heart burn the day he cut down Achimonde and today it felt numb and hollow.


"Yes, with all my heart." Velen was a confidence, he wouldn't consider this traitorous talk or scold him for loving Legion scum.

"Draenei!" Illidan was leaning against a pillar. Staring up at the mess of a planet he summoned. Velen touches his back, allowing him leave. Dobera heaves up, scowling.

"What, elf?" Illidan snarls at his tone. "I need to know you're solid." Illidan was aksking him... Dobera curls his lip.


But then slumps.


"You hunters... all the same," Illidan quirks a brow at the now defeated tone, "you believe yourselfs martyrs that you're the only ones who've sacrificed anything."


"Oh? What have you-" "don't." Even though it wasn't demanding, Illidan shuts up anyway. Dobera hangs his head, sighing brokenly.

"You want to know what I've given? I've given my mother, two brothers, four sisters and my children." Dobera can remember all their faces. "How many children?" It as an honest question, so he answers.

"Three. A boy and two girls. None of them lived to see five years." It was a ruthlessly short time. Dobera was almost as old a Velen and his children hadn't even seen their fifth year. "Your wife?" Illidan asks, "she lives. As a Paladin, her name is Asch. You have met her many times. Dobera knows he doesn't remember. But it doesn't bother him.

"I'm sorry. She should not have suffered the loss of your young." It was a real apology, one Dobera could accept.

"I did not bring Argus here to bring you pain," Illidan whispers, "I brought it here to end this." Dobera shakes his head, "you have brought ruin. If we succeed it will bring the Titan down upon us. We have spat at his doorstep. Sargaras will come for us." Illidan huffs, looking pompous and proud. "We will defeat him, like his legion dogs!" Dobera hears childish naivety when he speaks.

Dobera wants to get mad, let his anger wash like a total wave until Illidan is swallows while. Instead, "I am solid, Illidan." It was the first time he used the betrayers name. "It is time to go home."

Chapter 40: Illidan dabbles 5

Summary:

Illidan stormrage/original female night elf

 

WARNING
some pregnancy stuff

Chapter Text

"Who knows?" Illidan squints at his mate, staring at the bulge of fel green and yellow inside her. Asch was not even trying to hide it.

Illidan was torn between his demon and his elf. The elf side was begging him to kill it, save his mate. The demon was purring, a dark desire to see it born. "Just you," she huffs, lately Asch was puffy, poets call it glowing. Illidan calls it a gift. Her hair was shinier and her breasts were bigger. Visibly it was enjoyable but he couldn't bring himself to like it.

"Why?" Illidan recoils a little bit, "it's a demon. Do you want people to know your carrying a demon?" This argument was the same one they've had for three days now, different but always about the demon within her. "It's your baby. Our child. I'm proud!" She cradles her belly, smiling happily at him, despite her angry eyes.

 

It took nearly two hours until all of the grove, Mal and Tyrande had figured out the pregnancy. It took an hour longer then Illidan expected and he was prepared for it. The wraith of Tyrande was nothing compared to Mal's. Both were furious, both were yelling.

Saying he was careless, stupid. That this was wreckless and that he shouldn't have fathered a monster.

Illidan snapped, "shouldn't have fathered a monster?!" His bellow was loud and terrible. "It's a fetus! It's... it's a fetus-" Illidan just realized. It's just a fetus.


Illidan, after not explaining anything leapt away and flew to where he knew his wife was. "Asch..." he got her attention, she waddled away from her students. "I... was wrong." That was all she needed to hear. The fel inside of her was too bright to ignore. It made Illidan uncomfortable. Angry, but then he remembered Tyrande calling it a monster. His whole attitude changed on a dime whenever he remembered that.

It grew within her, she wasn't dying for it to grow so Illidan relented on that front.


In fact he was able to start sleeping better

 

Argus was putrid, burning and hateful. Illidan had no choice but to uproot his mate from her place, because she insisted upon coming.

Now the den and his demon hunters were covered in flowers. It wasn't unpleasant, the hunters quite literally stopped and smelt the flowers. It was a calm atmosphere. Asch was happily sitting on pillows, tending to his injured scouts when it happened.

All at once the flowers died and Asch made the faintest of sounds of pain before the most vile colored liquid gushed from between her legs.

"Asch?!" Illidan was guarding the entrance to the den when it happened, one of his hunters grabbed her before she fell to the ground. The ooze split from her and painted the dirt floor, covering an alarmingly large area. It was gooey, Illidan saw. The hunters had stepped in it, making an effort to move her. It was still leaking from her as they got her down on the furs.

"I-Illidan!" Asch was scared, confused. Illidan frantically looked, trying to find an answer in her face. Than it struck him, he looked at her swollen stomach. There was only black, no living green or bright yellow, it was blacker then a hellish void hole. Illidan moves into action, pushing the hunter out of his way. "Find the Paladin and bring him here!" He barks, fixing himself in a kneeling position, spreading her weak legs. "O-our baby?!" Asch tires to sit up, but one of his hunters knows better and holds her down by the shoulders. "Push." He commands, Asch is terrified, he can see it in her face. "It's alright," he lies, "just push!" Asch howls in pain, louder then he's ever heard before. The fel green liquid gushes on his hands, painting them almost completely. It was an absolute mess.


Turalyon came in a burst of light from the transport, Illidan had no time to answer the questions he obviously had, "keep her alive!" It took only moments before the grand exarch set to purpose, bathing the elf with light essence.

Illidan could feel the soft flesh as it came out of his mate, it was almost boneless, already lifeless and she struggled to produce he rest of their child's body. Illidan ripped away at a hunters cloak, making it into a make shift blanket. Already that hunter was hissing for people to disperse, intending to give privacy. Turalyon was focusing his healing to much to notice the eerie silence that fell over the few remaining hunters. Illidan felt it all too well as Asch screamed her lungs out, finally dispelling his spawn.

"Paladin!" Illidan screeches, aiming the weightless baby away from his mate in a flash of speed. Turalyon stumbles up away, going to him as he placed it on the makeshift wooden table.

"Save it!" He bellows. Turalyon gapes at the lifeless thing, his hands were shaking, Illidan shoves him toward the table, "save it." He doesn't repeat himself again. Illidan cages any sight of the table with his vast wings, willing his nerves to stay calm. He refused to look at its aura, not when he finally saw what exactly came out of his wife.

It looked just like any elf. It's ears were longer then it's cubby little arms and it's face was soft and fat. It had black hair, like he did and it had all it's fingers and toes. No claws, or deformities, not even spikes that littered his own body. It was a boy. They had a boy. It wasn't a monster, or a demon spawn. It was completely natural looking.

"It's... it's too late!" Turalyon expels, a guilt ridden. Illidan won't accept that. "Bring it back!" Illidan isn't in control, his voice is warped beyond recognition, "your light is worth damn if you cannot do something so simple!" Turalyon glares, but tries again despite Illidan.

"Illidan..." Asch is calling for him, her voice is weak and wrecked. The hunter behind her has no trouble quelling her attempts to escape. Illidan forces himself to look back. The flowing of the liquid has stemmed off, other putrid birthing messes start forming into a heavy puddle of mucus and discharge. Illidan glances once more at the table before moving to her.

"Clean this." He tells the hunter, hoisting Asch up in his arms. It smelt natural, at least what Illidan remembers, Tyrande had delivered babies before and said a bit of blood and strange colourless and oily liquid was good. Illidan cuts off the wet mess her dress had become and stuffs Asch under a few piles of furs, staving off the unusual chill Argus had. Asch could barely keep her eyes open. "Sleep," he begs, pushing her sweaty hair away. Asch trembles, grabbing his hand weakly. Illidan lets her, upset by how hard a time she was having moving his hand. Illidan helps, locking their fingers together, she was alright, she wasn't going to die, but seeing her so weak was painful.

"Please," she rasps, "is... is it o-okay?" Illidan offers a small smile, nodding curtly, "yes. Now please sleep." Illidan did not like lying, but for now he had too, she couldn't handle it right now. There was still a small hope that the paladin and his light could save their child, Illidan would only allow hope. For he did not know what kind of devastation it might bring if it didn't survive.


Illidan takes care of the mess between her legs, lovingly cleaning her thighs. The hunters were no where to be seen.

Then his ears caught the most gentle sound, a coo no louder then wind blowing through the air. "Illidan," it was a solid call, one that had relief and weariness. The coo sound was made again and Illidan moved, looking over the paladin's shoulder. The baby fidgeted, looking around him with big, fel smoking eyes.

"I will leave. Call me if anything is wrong." Illidan was passed paying attention to him, Illidan cupped his hands on either side of the baby, lifting it up to his chest and examining it. It looked at him with demonic eyes and wiggles his hands to try and touch Illidan.

Illidan dips his head, letting the baby caress his face. He smiles toothless at his father, happily slapping his leathery skin, it was amusing too see the joy in the babies face. Illidan strokes his fingers into the cloak, rubbing the soft parts of the babies back. He was so very small.


Illidan brings him to the bed, he remembers Tyrande bouncing babies to sleep so he tries, holding the baby to his chest and shaking his hand just enough to bounce him. Illidan watches him drool, wetting his skin. The baby makes little noises, the florescent eyes close, drooping as his little fists curl.


It was silent, the planet was eerie and cold, strange but Illidan could appreciate the quiet.

Chapter 41: Ares dabbles 1

Summary:

Male blood elf/Male blood elf

Chapter Text

Ares whiped blood off his sword and spat in the ground, heaving his head menacingly as he eyed the bodies. He was named after the god of death, because when he walked bodies fell. Ares walked, foot crunching bones as he stomped along.


"Gods boy." His commander was always astonished, "how many persons are on you?" Ares glances at his armour. Leaking with blood and even bits of flesh. "What?" He shrugs, the commander shakes his head "you've got something in your hair," Ares swipes at his head, blood was caked to the flesh, chunks of unrecognizable bits came flying off into the ground, surely it was flesh of some kind. "Disgusting. How do you stand it?" Ares was a blood elf, however he was born and bred into war and killing.

A child of Odin worthy enough of the name, Ares. As a child the way of the warrior was drilled into him. Made his flesh stone and blood burn with rage. Ares was ruthless, messy and uncaring. He would honour his foes, a swift death but he was not kind.

"Go wash that filth away boy! We dine with the regent lord!"


Ares had sun kissed skin, scarred and burnt in many places. The women around him swoon and giggle as they help him out of his plate. The commander insisted they be here, that he didn't know how to scrap off the bloody mess. They aren't unwelcome. Ares winks at the girls, groping them every chance they gave. It took them a while to get Ares in the tub, but finally he sat naked and covered in bubbles.

"My lord, please face me..." the girl had a soft, nervous voice. Ares looks at her with a dangerous smile, "face you? Face me-" Ares winds his wet arm around her, yanking her down into his lap. The girl cries out, splashing as the warrior laughs, kissing her neck lewdly.

The other girls laugh, excited by his lax behaviour and clamber in, getting their dresses wet. "My lord!" The girl in his lap gasps, face flushed "there now," he grins nipping her long ear, "better?" Ares was handsome, he knew this. His face as chiseled, without a fault or even scar.

His hair was black as death, though somehow you could still see the blood all along his skull, the girls lovely white wash clothes proved he had more blood on him then in him, stained completely red. "We are finished my lord," one timid girl said not meeting his eye. "Are you? Pity, I thought you'd like to stay..." he tilts a long, groomed brow. All the girls look at him as if he's silly, "we can't my lord... we are ladies in waiting-" the timid girl was interrupted by another, one who was more stern and wringing her dress loose of water. "Our lady decides who we give our virginity too."


The difference between savages and warriors was that warriors held an honour code. Ares inclined his head toward the other elf, understanding. "I will tempt you no longer then." The ladies smile, the one speaking to him looked rather grateful. "Come girls. We have done what is asked. My lord-" she bows, Ares watches the pretty girls scurry away, now bored.

Ares did not own painted armour, as a warrior is was disgraceful to have such a thing. Lord Lor'themar Theron didn't seem insulted by his black armour or massive swords. Dinner was interesting, Lor'themar was quite facinated with his ventures, the lord regent himself was a battle hardened archer, but what interested Ares was his work with a sword. Lor'themar spoke of close combat, Ares was interested for the first time that night.

"But enough of my tales. What does my commander have you doing these days?" Lor'themar was not a squeamish noble. Ares could speak to him of war and death and the other wouldn't even bat an eye. "Killing, mostly." He shrugs effortlessly, people around them pause, appalled. "Demons and the cultists. We made a new front on the shore." Lor'themar beams, looking happily surprised. "How fortunate. How is the new land treating you?" Ares didn't like it. It was wet in Azsuna, hot in Stormheim, Hard to breath in Highmoutain and to jungle-like in Val'sharah. Suramar was just yellow and suffocating and the shore smelt like fel fire and death.

But Ares was calmed by battle so he couldn't say it was all awful. "Fair enough I suppose." Ares didn't like talking much, Lor'themar didn't make him talk a lot. It was one of the reasons he liked the regent lord. "Mhm that's good too hear." After that Lor'themar left him alone, didn't ask anymore questions, but sat and drank with him for two hours before finally saying goodnight. Ares didn't want to sleep yet, didn't feel tired.


Among them as company of all kinds. Company that would come home with him. Ares from his spot gets the attentions of one girl. She's confident and very pretty. She saunters over with her hips swaying, "hello handsome," her voice was like sin. Ares smiles, slow and devious. "Hello sweetheart," the girl is bold and perches herself in his lap, "you're a Lieutenant" she coos, batting her long eyelashes. "I am. What are you?" Her red lips stretch into a pleasant smile, "bought and paid for. Shall we?" Ares likes the way
she talks, but doesn't move to accept her offer yet. "Is everyone?" Around them were many pleasure workers, something that was often at a nobles party. The girl hums with interest, "aren't I enough?" She giggles at him, playing with a clump of his long hair, "I don't mind. So long as you don't play favourites."

Ares grins at her answer, "how about him?" His cocks his head, the girl looks. "Oh, yes of crouse-" she jerks her hand, getting the others attention. This one was handsome and very lady like. His hair was groomed and his silks were sheer. "Yes my lord?" Ares adjusts the girl in his lap, pulling her tighter to his body, "have you ever had a cock in your ass?" The girl was delighted by his question and laughed very loudly at it.

The pretty boy seemed nervous to answer, "y-yes..." Ares nods "good. Come with me."


Ares was disturbed in the very early morning. The pretty boy draped over him was shocked awake and nervous as his commander eyed them. The girl however acted as though this was par for the course. "Deplorable you know," his commander chided, shaking his head in disapproval. "Come, its time too go."

Chapter 42: Illidan dabbles 6

Summary:

Illidan Stormrage/original female nightelf.

Chapter Text

The den was near silent as the hunters wearily came back, drifting in toward their master and examining the baby. They weren't very good at hiding it, so Illidan let them all have a good look. It was like they've never seen a baby before. Maybe it was that or the fact they've never seen a demon baby.


The aura was more green then yellow and he looked tainted, but outwardly he looked just like any normal baby would. The hunters were curious. He didn't allow them to touch or linger, it was already bad enough Asch was sleeping because elves need to imprint on their mothers, form a bond. Illidan let the baby sleep on her chest she. He wasn't wiggling so much. It had been maybe four hours since the birth and he was quiet for a newborn. Illidan expected crying and fussing.

But the baby just slept for the most part, only waking up to gurgle and coo. Illidan coos back, as strange as it seems to him it felt natural. It was most likely his parental urges coming to surface.

Illidan knew he would be hungry, he couldn't do anything about it but Asch was dead asleep and it was hard to wake her like that. The females in his Illidari were cooing at him, offering to assist him. The demon part of the women wanted to indorse the spawn, the other half, the elven part was attracted to him, seeing him with a baby. It was no secret just how many of his Illidari were interested in him. It got worse when he brought his mate and now with a baby? It made him delectable.


Illidan touches his wife, increasing the pressure as he bounced the baby against his chest. "Mhm..." she mumbles, blinking open her shiny eyes. "My love," he smiles, watching her get her barrings. Illidan rests the baby on her chest again, watching her become confused then gasp, "its- Illidan!" Illidan hums, petting the babies back, "he's okay." Asch shutters, crying, "perfect he's perfect."

"You've been asleep for some time, he may be hungry," Asch mewls, "is he?" Illidan was struck with arousal and affection as he heard her motherly voice. It made him feel strange but it felt right. Illidan banks his wings, bathing his wife and child behind their influence. The baby latches on, suckling in earnest. "How long was I asleep?" She asks, touching his soft hair. "Four hours. He was very good, very quiet." Illidan was always told he was the quiet baby out of he and Mal. It did not surprise him that his child was rather shy.

"Does he have a name?" Illidan shakes his head, "I didn't want to name him without you."

"Oh... Illidan-" Asch sounded choked up, Illidan leans forward, kissing the babies very soft hair. "Well," he says against his head, "what will his name be?" Asch rubs her cheek into his rough horn, kissing an imperfection. "I want you too name him," she tells him, head leaning into his horn.

"Edan."

It became routine to spend hours with the baby. Asch had somehow made a crib of roots beside their bed. Edan was a very pleasant baby, but that made it difficult to understand his needs.

Illidan was worried about how Argus was effecting Edan. He wanted their son off the planet along with his wife. Asch kept saying no, that their place was with Illidan and she would go no where without him. Edan was a very small baby, he was two months early and slept a lot of the time, usually preferring to fall asleep against his fathers breast then his own bed.

The hunters were very amused when he was being demanding with a baby napping against his neck.


Still Illidan would forgo his pride and allow the child to nestle, Asch found it endearing as he carted their baby around the den with him or up in the ship. Velen was surprised to see the baby, but happy it was safe. It was mostly fine, the baby didn't impede his progress with expelling demons, Asch knew when it was appropriate to fight with him and when Illidan wouldn't allow any arguement, this made the whole ordeal much easier. When he was busy Asch woul go back to the ship and wait for him to return safely.

Currently Asch had Edan was laying on his mother, holding a clump of her hair and examining it with interest. Illidan was searching through letters until he came upon one addressed too him in Malfurion's hand writing.


"Dear brother," he hisses the start, getting Asch's attention. "It has been nearly two months since you went off planet. And we've yet too meet. I was hoping to see you before your departure, if you could find the time to come see me it would be greatly appreciated. Malfurion." Illidan crumples the paper snarling. Edan looks at his father with caution, but doesn't seem afraid either. "Insufferable. Be damned-" Asch touches his wrist, he intended in throwing the sheet aside, but her soft eyes force him to a halt. "Don't you think it best to see him? There isn't much to be done tonight after all. We could go back and return in the morning?"


Illidan didn't want to see his brother, Asch didn't know that he had called their child a monster. Illidan couldn't imagine the little thing resting on his wife could have been a monster, he felt shame for himself thinking it could ever be anything more then a baby.


Edan's ears were floppy and soft and his eyes were whole but smoky fel coloured, still he was a beautiful baby, very dark like Illidan. Nothing connected him to his mother however, despite being given life by her, the baby was almost exactly like Illidan. Not even her lighter skin impacted his colouring the way Illidan expected.

"Must I?" Asch giggled at his tone, raising a brow, "it sounds important, we should." Illidabclooks at his happy baby, watching him smile at Illidan. He raises a questioning brow, Edan squeals. Illidan quirks a smile. "Fine fine, have your way."


The trip down took only minutes, people were shocked to see Illidan, showing it upon their faces as he passes. Asch hides their baby under wrap-knotted blankets against her chest. The only things visible were his pointed ears and soft hair. Illidan wasn't allowed to fly them there so why have to pay for a gryphon ride. Edan was sleeping and would probabsly continue to if Illidan took them to the grove, but Asch was adamant about hurting or scaring him.


So there he sat, Edan was pressed between his parents as the gryphon flew smoothly.


Malfurion was awaiting them in the entrance of the grove, Illidan walks in front with his wings out, hiding any sight of Asch and Edan. Tyrande was scowling beside her husband, glaring at him thickly as they stalked closer. "Brother!" Malfurion sounded happy to see him. Illidan nods, "you said you wanted something in your letter?" Asch pulls the leather of his wing up, ducking under it as she passed.


Malfurion stops, looking at the bundled baby. "Oh, it's born," he says softly, less offensive then Illidan thought he might. Asch smiles nicely, unknown to their horrible opinion. "A week passed, It's a boy and his name is Edan." Asch unravels the wrap, pulling their son free and showing off his little face, he was still asleep soundly as Asch paraded him. Illidan wills himself not to snap at their pensive stares.


"Edan," Mal tried them name, seeming to like the sound of it, "you named him?" Asch shakes her head, "I did." Illidan answers, showing his offence from the question. Of course he named his own son. "He is very dark," Mal says,


"I am very dark." Illidan snaps, crossing his arms. "Small," Tyrande adds, squinting.

"He was born early." Illidan didn't need to answer, but they would ask again and he didn't care to hear the questions more then once. "He does not-" "look demonic? Monterous?" Illidan hisses the word, the two look properly wounded. "Of course not. He is not infected with his fathers taint." Edan was, Illidan could see it as clear as day when he looked at the chubby face, but they didn't. Both looked shocked by this.

"He is not?" Illidan sighs heavily, tightening "what did you want brother? It wasn't about my son. So what?" Mal pauses, he can't seem to stop staring at the baby. Illidan rolls his eyes, flapping a wing in front of Asch, sparking his brothers attention. Asch snorts, batting at the soft flesh.

"It was actually," Mal corrects, Illidan growls, glaring his dead eyes at his brother. "I will not have you-" "no, Illidan. I have something for him." Malfurion did not call his son an it now, so Illidan drops his defensives, ready to listen.

"Please come with me."


Malfurion had quarters in the grove he didn't use very often unless time called for it. "Will you be staying?" "Only the night," Asch answers, "ah perfect, come in then please."

"My love?" Illidan halts in the door, "will you take him? My breasts hurt," Illidan sees the discomfort in her face. Feeding their child has made her chest heavy and hurt and Edan has grown the habit of nuzzling in the most painful pressing ways. "Come little one," he whispers, nuzzling his nose into his forehead. Edan doesn't even aknowledge being moved. Illidan rolls his eyes, watching Asch laugh.

Illidan doesn't like the clutter around Malfurion's home, papers were askew and the den they were told to wait in was too warm and Illidan banged his wings on more then one thing. All and all Edan wasn't woken up so it was a win.

"Here, this is for Edan," Malfurion holds a leather string and cups something in his hand. It was a green stone, one rough and cut ugly and earthly. "It was fathers. Mother wanted it to go to our children, it falls to you." Father. Illidan had not thought about him for a long time. It was his Druidic apprentice chain. It was full of life energy and emitted warm waves. It should have been Malfurion's, Illidan was no Druid and he wasn't going to make his child follow the order either.


"And this..." Mal produces a fluffy cloth, purple with leaf patterns. "This was your blanket, you were brought home in it and slept with it until we got too old. Mother wanted us to have them for our children." It was matted slightly, but Asch seems so taken by it, plucking it from his brothers fingers and already wrapping it around Edan. Illidan helps, tossing the ripped cloak to the side.

"He sleeps quite a bit," Mal chuckles, Illidan nods, watching Edan huff and yawn, undisturbed. "He was born too early. Sleeping helps growth." Illidan would not admit he got advice from one of his hunters. "Ah yes, you've said. It must make life easier?" Asch laughs, "he sleeps almost all day. Eats, I change him and he sleeps all over again."

Mal touches the edge of the blanket, humming "yes. Soon he will catch up. Enjoy it while you can." Asch laughs, rubbing his cheek. "He's a beautiful baby, Illidan." There was a ping in his heart, "would you like to hold him?" Mal stares, eyes darting toward Illidan and the baby. "I... yes thank you brother." Illidan leans forward, passing his precious baby to his brother, watching the Druid cradle him with care. "Very small," he observes again, "weights nothing-" Edan whines, confused as he opens his eyes, Tyrande grunts in displeasure, both watching his eyes shine with fel energy.

"Oh," Asch coos, looking at her baby. "Hello sleepy!" Edan gets excited at his mother, ears perking, Mal laughs, getting Edan's fleeting attentions, the baby touches his beard, petting it like he was a dog.

Malfurion runs his knuckles against his arm, padding his thumb finger into the side of his mouth. "Very much like you Illidan, very." Mal gives him back, smiling as he gurgles at his father. Edan mewls, aiming his fingers and flexing them toward his mother, "he wants you," Illidan gives him back, Edan is happy, touching her face, very lively.


"I should feed him before he goes to sleep again," Asch kisses Illidan's cheek, then allowing him to kiss Edan before going to the other room.


A long pause.

"He isn't a monster." Tyrande was still fowl, Illidan grows dark. "It's a child. Of course not. You should know by no one is born evil. It's grown." Tyrande glares to the side. "Now the real conversation, if you will."

Mal shrugs, just as confused as Illidan, "this is what I wanted brother, too give you our memories for your son."

"I wanted to see it," Tyrande interrupts, hissing "too see what you made in her." Illidan makes a show of opening his arms, brow tilting, "and what have I made in her?"

Mal looks quietly furious, Illidan has no doubt he had no idea this was going to happen.

"Something I do not want to see again."

Illidan now rages, uncaring if his wife hears this absurdity. "That is not your choice woman." Tyrande rises to his challenge, "it is as your high priestess! You will not chance bringing another demon in this world!"

"You are nothing to me. I am ruled by no one and you will not dare tell me what I can and cannot do!" Malfurion as had enough of the yelling, "enough! Tyrande!" Tyrande glared at her husband, "no! This is unacceptable!"


"What is?! That I dared to move on? That I have a family? That I was part in making a child? If you dare tell me I cannot do it again this will be the last you ever speak to me or her!" Malfurion acts as the middle man, "no brother this isn't what she asks-" "it is exactly what I ask! We cannot risk this!" Illidan has had enough of this. "If you wish to see us before we leave we will be at home. Goodbye brother."


Asch had just finished feeding Edan when Illidan made them leave, she had heard the whole thing and was ready to leave, saying nothing in defence.

Illidan was pacing, raging quietly while Asch just sat on their bed and watched, offering nothing but her presence.


"She is insufferable!" Be belts, mouth in a snarl, telling him he can't father more children. How bold.

Illidan acknowledged the fact he was against it like them at first, but once he realized it was just a child, there was no question.


"She's scared. Scared people say foolish things." Illidan huffs, looking at his mate with softer eyes. "She called it a monster. You heard what she said tonight." Asch nods solemnly, "I did. It doesn't concern me. Let her be angry, but don't let it bother you. Mal was kind, Edan liked him even. Come here." Illidan drags his feet, sllipping on the bed with pain in his eyes, "Edan is no demon, he may have the blood of one, but he is your son. And if he grows a tail or wings, even claws it won't matter. He's my beautiful baby boy." Illidan smiles at that, nuzzling her nose with his.


"Sleep my love, we will see Mal before we leave and thank him for his gifts."

Chapter 43: Kil'jaeden dabbles 2

Summary:

Kil'jaeden/original female Draenei

Chapter Text

Asch could remember everything with far to much clarity. The way his hands felt, gripping her skin. How his tongue brunt her flesh as it laved up her spine.


Velen was there, in the room as they cleaned her, his light was calming, but she was tainted from the inside now. No amount of light or help will ever change that. Velen held her, cried with her and offered to let her stay with her for as long as she wanted.

"I missed him," she whispers once the nurses are gone, "I missed him so much..." Velen touches her knee, smiling sorrowfully "I know. I do too." Velen's wife was taken by the legion, his son corrupted by the legion. Asch's husband was consumed by it now. The two Draenei sat together in sadness. Velen was clutching her hand, squeezing it just tight enough it reminded her of before.

The ship, their home world burning, and her bloodstained dress.

Two days after they feld, when everything was calmer. Asch stood with Velen, looking over the bustling people, watching as they sat crying or helping each other. Beds were shared by everyone, all made out of tattered cloth and spare clothes. Pillows were arms or bags or others bodies. The children at least looked somewhat happy.

Then it happened. Asch doubled over, a rush between her legs, gushing blood and mucus. Guards came to Velen's call, they took her to the medical wing and the doctor told her she lost her baby.

A baby Asch did not know she had, the only purity Kil'jaeden had left. Asch had to wear the blood soaked dress for months until they came to Azeroth.


"I... I love him," Asch whimpers, blue eyes filling with tears, "even after everything he's done-" Asch broke into an ugly sob, Velen coos sadly, wrapping her in his arms. "There is nothing wrong with that." He promises, petting her hair with gentle fingers, "he is your husband. He is my brother. I love him as well." The omission crippled her, even as the nurses come back and whisper to Velen, what they said she didn't know, but he understood them and nodded against her forehead, beard tickling her and envoking a feeling beyond the numbness of her sorrow.

Velen cradles her, mumbling words of comfort in their language as he exits the building. People don't look more than a second, the entirety of Dalaran heard the news. Even adventures bow and look away as the great Prophet strides to purpose. The journey wasn't long, Velen had quarters in the violet citadel, the mages see them and Khadgar personally open the portal to his room.

Asch feels herself being placed atop a bed, soft and spongy. Velen's weight makes the bed dip to one side, but the unbalance isn't unwelcome. In fact, Asch curls into his leg, gripping his thigh hidden under his robes. "It's alright little star, I am here." Kil'jaeden called her little star when they were courting. It stings her chest in a warm and painful way.

Asch holds onto Velen for dear life, her only anchor to reality. Once upon a time Velen was almost her chosen rather then Kil'jaeden. Velen had been courting her for weeks, but the great beastly warrior that Kil'jaeden was had won in the end. Velen, the gentle and loving soul held no ill will or resentment in her choice and married and cherished a beautiful woman, made a beautiful son. Asch wondered if her fate would have been just as Velen's wife if she had married him. If her son would have become Kil'jaeden's pawn. Asch loved Velen, loved him dearly enough that if he would ask again, she would say yes. She was young however, much younger then him, her husband. Some called her a child bride when she married Kil'jaeden.

It was strange.

It had been weeks since Asch had been with Kil'jaeden, but she could still feel him.

It was why she wondered the shore, she was seeking him out, or rather where she felt him to be. Why? He abused and raped her, yet there she was getting sand stuck in her hooves as she clomped through the muddy wet ground.

Asch came upon a cave, the entrance was barely a crack in the wall, but she fit through easily. Asch tried to stall the echoing her steps made, but wasn't very successful.

Beyond a few turns, he was there, pasting his broken wings with green ick and black cloth.

"Did he like what he saw?" Kil'jaeden asks, not acknowledging her arrival. "Did he like seeing my leavings upon you?" Asch felt small under his voice, scared. "He didn't notice-" "liar," he teases in almost an amused voice. "Of course he did. He's to pure to say anything, show anything."


Kil'jaeden had made up the bed beyond him, it was covered in soft looking furs, all beautiful colours. The demon eyes her "go on and sit. I made it for you." Some part of her was touched, but it was behind the veil of knowing he was doing it to somehow hurt her, manipulate her. Asch still goes, sitting on the bed, feeling it.

"You always did look marvellous in my bed." He's said that before, and just like before, it worked. "You hurt me." She said, overcome with sadness. Kil'jaeden eyes her, "that's what I do."

"Will you fix it?" This was like asking the devil for a deal without expecting to pay.

"Yes."


His claws weren't malicious this time, they carcasse instead of bite at her skin. His teeth nibble instead of rip. It's real, right now in their little bubble. It's as real as she remembers.

Kil'jaeden licks his fingers when he's finished preparing her, licking his mouth clean as he uses his other hand to try and roll her over. "No..." she pleads, wiggling back "wanna see you..." Kil'jaeden tilts his head, brow raising. "Do you? You want to see a demon mount you?" Asch bites her lip, thread her fingers through his white hair, twirling the hanging locks "I want too see my husband..."

"Is that right? Do you still see your husband?"

"I want too- is that wrong? Aren't you still my husband...?" Asch knew whatever he said was going to be a manipulation, but she was in the bubble. Nothing could ruin this.

"You're the only one who does." Asch spreads her legs wider, distracting him. Still the same man, Asch smiles to herself. "Do you want to be?" Asch has never seen him so off base, so thrown by her body, all like before. Like a virgin, like their first night. Kil'jaeden was a rough warrior, but that didn't mean all of him was rough.

"Yes..." he practically hisses.

Chapter 44: Lor'themar and Arthas dabbles 1

Summary:

Original character/Koltira Deathweaver
Original character/Lor'themar Thoren

I like suffering
 

WARNING
Rape
Non-consensual voyeurisum
Forced voeurisum

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

A slow dangerous smile caught the lips of the lord of the Scourge when he found out just how important his new batch of prisoners were. Now Arthas knew who Lor'themar Thoren was, met him once when he was a princeling and Thoren was an advisor. But his interest had stopped there, even in life. So he very eagerly listened to the death knight as he told him the whole, exciting truth.

Lor'themar was having an affair with the princess. The one promised to Kael'thas, the one Arthas had never seen but heard once about. The prince was quite in love if Arthas remembers, expelling his deepest wishes to marry her soon and make children with haste. Arthas never knew there would be more to that, but none too surprisingly elves always had many secrets.

This was almost the best kept secret in all of Azeroth until just before the Burning Legion problems arouse. Asch was her name, the death knight told him. A beautiful queen. There were hints of longing from the knight, but Arthas could allow that, the subtle poke of his ears told him that the knight was an elf.

The truth had spilled out like a crashing wave, Lor'themar had married the princess in secret and consummated their marriage the night of. After the prince went mad Lor'themar became regent lord and Asch his lady thereafter. The union was accepted, because the elves adore romance and convoluted stories.

Now the two were his captives. Arthas could see them, Lor'themar was broken and bruised, stripped of his plate armour. Asch was gripping his pinky, weakly at that. They were staring at the wooden floor of their jail, crammed in with a few other elves. Asch was gorgeous, despite her tattered clothes. She sat between his open legs, on her knees. Her hair was long down her back and almost obscured her face. It was as white as Arthas' own hair, an odd colour even for elves.


Her breath was shallow, Asch was tired but wouldn't sleep, Lor’themar looked like a dog, haggard but still had a little fight.


"You're going to collapse," Lor'themar was worried sick. His words were hushed, despite being in their tongue. Asch gave him a weak smile, "You won't sleep either." Lor'themar shrugs at that, "Who will protect you if I do?" Even now he was being romantic. Asch feels tears well up, but speaks anyway "Do you remember when Hal made us leave to that forest? The tent you made?" Lor'themar smiles sadly, bobbing his head lightly. "You wanted to teach me how to hunt and I shot you with an arrow-" Asch breaks into a sob, trying to laugh. "I was too scared to pull it out- you had to. I screamed so loud." Lor'themar snorts quietly, "You scared some villagers into coming and looking. They caught us in the midst of our passion. Your face was so red." Asch wipes the heel of her palm against her cheek, rubbing away the tears.

"I wish we were back there. In that tent." Lor'themar looks up at her now, face full of emotion. "We will, once we get out of this. I will take you away on my strider and I will build you a cottage so deep in the woods. And we will stay there as long as you want, forever if you want." Asch puts pressure on his pinky and Lor'themar locks their hands together, squeezing her fingers. "I want that. I want a big cozy bed a-and a fireplace... I want to go home Lo." Lor'themar heaves a pained sigh, "We will, my love. I promise."


Arthas watches the elves, listening to their curious language. He doesn't care to understand what they were saying, rather the little change in touches. His hand gripped hers better, the other on her knee. Their eyes were locked but there were no more words spoken. Arthas supposed it wasn't too different to what Jaina used to do. Like talking without talking. Jaina was better at it than he was and always knew, just by staring at him with a tilt in her brow what he wanted.

Arthas remembers being amazed and Jaina saying it was no magic.

There was though, magic. He sees it in their eyes, watching them as the carts pulled to the gates. "Icecrown m'lord." One of the cultist say, Arthas shakes the memories off and gets Invincible to trot forward, as the cage wheezes behind him.


Two days had passed and two elves had disappeared. Besides Asch and Lor'themar there were five other elves captured. All men from his army and one personal guard to his wife. The guard was still there, sitting with his back to them, blocking any sight of the regent lady as if it was still his job. He tried, Asch said, but there were so many. Lor'themar believed her and if they got out of this, he wouldn't be punished.

Lor'themar sat with his back against the cold wall, Asch still sitting between his folded knees. She was leaning against his leg, pressing the side of his knee into the back wall, her own head resting against a damp brick. They were looking at each other, saying nothing but offering the other comfort. Hal said how bizarre it was, but found it endearing nonetheless.

After the second elf Arthas had become bored. Tomorrow he would bring the rest and finish the reanimation without trying for information. Simple soldiers didn't know much of anything and it wasn't worth it to ask anymore. Tonight however, he had ideas of what to do with his prized captives.

Asch had fallen asleep, finally. Resting her whole weight in his body as she slumbered silently. Lor'themar was relieved, she hadn't slept the whole way here. Lor'themar was exhausted himself, but wouldn't sleep yet. What he was waiting for and why, he didn't know. But he wouldn't sleep while she was. It wasn't safe to do so. Lor'themar was right to be weary when the shambles of armour against stone echoed and two knights appeared beyond the bars, Lor'themar shook her awake, scaring her as they pried the door open. Two others came behind them with dark shackles and hidden faces.

Asch was yanked from him, a sword at his neck when he tried to fight. Asch struggled but it was nothing to the knights as they clapped her hands and ankles. Lor'themar put up a better resistance, struggling and even managing to shove one over. It only prolonged the process and they were unkind to him, bashing his head into the stone wall, making Asch cry out.

Asch was wiggling, struggling against their hold as the two carried her. For some reason they held her off the ground, making sure Asch wasn't damaged, but Lor'themar they didn't have care for it.

They came to a dark room, lit with few candles and by a desk, was Arthas himself. The lord turned to see them enter, scowling at Lor'themar, "I told you not to injure him. He didn't sound pleased at all. "He struggled-overpowered us." Arthas laughs, a bitter and awful sound, "One elf caused you trouble?" A beat of silence, "No matter. Chain him there." Asch watches the two handle him to the floor, linking his chains to the wall. Lor'themar snarls, glaring hotly at Arthas.

"And her?" Arthas observes Asch before speaking, "The bed. Keep her wrists bound, but only one leg." They did as asked, undoing a few shackles before linking her ankle too the one attached to the bed.

Arthas did nothing for a few moments before speaking in a sneer, "I always hated elves. Picky and far too proud." Idly he walks, boots making a thunderclap as they hit the stone beneath his feet. "Tell me regent lord, have you been humbled yet?" Lor'themar doesn't answer, but Arthas isn't interested anyway. Instead his gaze falls to Asch, who sits on the bed, caged by his knights. "And you, I have heard much about you." Arthas smirks at her disgusted shiver.

"People claim you as the most beautiful creature in all of the Horde. I don't doubt that. Filthy orcs and trolls. They say men would fight for just a glance at you," his fingers ghost up her arm as he speaks, making goose flesh perk up in his path. "They say men would topple empires for a night with you." Arthas had done his research, elves were passionate beings, his knights had their memories and he dissected every elf he could find. One had memories of being in a camp, they all spoke of their lady in vulgar ways. Which way they'd twist her, how long they would drown between her legs. What they would do just too see her.

Another elf in the memory boasted that she smiled at him, no one believed him of course. Humans were the same in that regard, Arthas knew many adored Jaina, wanted the mage the way only he was allowed.

"What now, would you do to keep him alive?" Asch gasps openly as a sword is drawn to her husbands neck, exciting tears from her eyes. Lor'themar grits his teeth, snarling like a caged animal.

"Anything! Please, anything don't hurt him!" She cries fisting the sheets on the bed.

"Asch no!" Lor'themar barks, struggling against his chains, as if it would do anything.

Arthas was amused by the whole scene, chuckling as he watches the two strain for each other.

"Anything? How putridly sweet. Get on your knees." Asch does as told, scurrying like a trained dog. "Asch please," Lor'themar pleads, their eyes locking. "Pull his chains loose. Bring him close." The knights haul him to the bed, dumping him by the foot, so close their noses can barely touch at the tips.

Arthas had already decided the outcome and sits pleasantly by on a plush, but tattered chair. "What a sight," he taunts, watching Lor'themar glare at him. "Koltira," he commands, the knight bows in respect. Arthas takes a moment to appreciate it. "She said anything. Do anything you like." Koltira was the one to reveal all the details of their little love affair, so Arthas wished to reward him.

Koltira is conflicted for a moment, shocked at such a offer, but quickly masks it, removing him helmet, "Yes my king." Asch's eyes flutter, a fresh bout of tears falling down her cheeks as the room grows silent, save for armour clinking. Asch mewls pathetically as her dress is ripped open. Lor'themar is growling, yanking at his chain.

"So help me if-" a yelp rips from Asch and she's pushed forward, bumping into his face with her own. Koltira hisses behind them and Arthas laughs. The disbelief, shock and rage on the regent lords face was almost too much. Watching it play out in front of him was better then he could ever have imagined.

The lewd noise of his hips slapping into her ass echoed off the walls with too much clarity, her whole body being fucked forward into Lor'themar was enough to make her sob outright, shame and embarrassment her only company as the deathknight rammed into her. Arthas watches with his chin propped in his hand as the knight's cock sheathed between her legs, the twitches she made below him and the rough little grunts of displeasure erupting from her mouth.

Lor'themar was grinding his teeth, the little fangs in his mouth shining in the candle light. Koltira leans over, biting Asch’s long ear. Asch lets a strangled cry go, shaking her head as if to disturb a fly away. Koltira pulls her hair taut, making her head go rigid as he abuses her flesh to his bidding. Asch scrunched her nose in a cute little snarl, trying to eye her captor. Koltira groans against the dip between her shoulder, humping her like a mindless animal looking for release. Lor'themar is heaving, breathes coming out in great huffs as his rage doubles.

Asch tries to reach for him, but Koltira squashs that idea, grabbing her shackles and keeping her still. "I'll kill you!" Lor'themar finally bites, tears welling up in his eye, Arthas spares him a glance. "Will you?" He mocks, watching the elf struggle. Asch hiccups, raising her eyes to look at him. Arthas returns the look, smirking.

"Is he humbled now?" The question has her breaking again, a wail bubbling from her chest, Arthas cackles.

There was sweat and tears and other nasty fluids gathering on the bed as Koltira continued, unimpeded by her unabashed crying. Lor'themar looks properly defeated, his face is dead, but his eyes are emotional. Asch had grown quieter, but she still moans in sorrow whenever Koltira rams his hips enough to gauge a reaction. Her legs tremble and she's well past keeping her head up. Instead it's pressed to the sheets, her gaze falling into the wall beyond Arthas. Her eyes are hallow and her tears seem to never stop. It made a dark, wet pool under her cheek.

Between her legs it was the same wet mess, the clear fluids roving down her spread legs, her body betrayed her but she made no noise to it. Arthas could tell when she reached her peak, the shiver that ran from her spine up, the expel of air rushing from her nose. And the sound Koltira made at the tightening of her cunt around him. It had to be the fourth time, each time Arthas wondered if she would make him follow, if it was enough to milk his orgasm from him, yet he only shook and continued.


Arthas was well past making his point and motioned for Koltira to finish. It awoke both the elves when he pulled her up into her earlier position. From the side Arthas couldn't properly make out their faces, but once the two realized what was happening the shock and discomfort was legendary.

The tightening of her face and the utter sheathing in his as Koltira went at his lords demand with vigour. Koltira whines low, stilling inside her as he spent himself, rocking gently as he allowed her cunt to flutter around him. There was enough to leak from her, even as his cock plugged most of it inside, a steady flow trickled out and wetly dabbed against the sheets, making a distinct drip noise.

As soon as his cock slipped from her grip and slapped wetly into his thigh Arthas waved them away, taking Lor'themar from his spot and Asch up from hers. "My lord," Koltira bows, fixing his britches. Arthas hums, amused by it all.

"Hmm. Take them with you tomorrow to Light's Hope, Darion may find delight in her."

"Yes my lord."

 


No one yet had found delight in his wife, in fact Darion wasn't amused by the idea at all. "We have business here. I won't be be responsible for this."

Asch was horrified, watching as people were cut down and raised seconds after, Lor'themar covered her eyes, holding her to his body until the subtle noise came next to them. Koltira stumbled, holding his head like he'd been struck, the sickly colour from his eyes was all but gone and his mind looked unclogged, "Regent Lord!" The ghastly echo was still in his voice, but held distinct emotion, "The spell-its been-" They both are jolted by the sound of Tirion Fordring. The unmistakable shine of the Ashbringer.

Koltira scurries to the cage, wresting it open, "Can you get away?" Lor'themar heart was beating out of his chest, but he thrived on pressure. "Yes."

It was easy to tell which way to go from there, the path that the soldiers took. Tracking their movements was child's play for a ranger.

It wasn't long before he found the camp, a few soldiers were lingering and stopped them in shock. "I am Regent Lord Lor'themar Thoren!" They recognized him instantly.

 

There was a long, drawn moment that finally made their escape sink in. Lor'themar sagged in his chair, looking out the grand window at the broken and bruised land. It hadn't been right between he and Asch, it wasn't noticeable until now, but there was a drift. They weren't as close.

Lor'themar hated it, hated how she wouldn't look at him anymore.

Lor'themar got up, his wife barely registered his leaving. Hal would help, he was his best friend.

The ranger was sharpening arrow heads, squinting at the tips when Lor'themar interrupted, "Ah! My friend, come to help?" There wasn't much ceremony when Lor'themar came home, Hal didn't make it a big deal. They shared a few rough drinks and let it go.

 

But he didn’t know. 

 

"I need help Hal," it came out a weak sigh, Lor'themar shook his head, upset. Hal wipes his hands, the clink against the wood tells Lor'themar that Hal's attention was all his. "Something... happened-" Lor'themar chokes, Hal looks worried, "Arthas- Asch... he... he forced one of his... death knights on her- because they were going to kill me." Hal kept his eyes straight, taking his information without any look of disgust or upset. "Do you... blame her?" Lor'themar shook his head vehemently, "No no! I... she won't look at me, talk too me- I... I need your help."


Hal and Lor'themar were top rangers, finding a deep, dense clearing was the easiest part of it all. They marked the spot, got plans together and soon started to help carve and chop wood to build the cottage he promised.

Hal said it wasn't his fault, wasn't Asch's. What happened was terrible and Lor'themar wasn't angry, not at her at least. Some might think her tainted, it must be why she won't talk to him. Asch must think he doesn't love her after another man... no. It was wrong and he would prove it.

"It's small..." Hal muses, looking at the shell of the house. Lor'themar breathes in the wood, enjoying the atmosphere immensely. "She wanted it. Just like this. It's perfect."

Hal smiles, fully and quite happy with it. The bed was pressed against the wall, taking up a whole space on its own while the fire place made up the back wall of the house, directly in front of the open door. Besides filling it with furniture and finishing a few minor details it was ready to be used.

"Is she... talking to you?" Lor'themar shook his head, leaning against the frame of the door. "No... she's still-" "it's alright. Not for much longer."

Hal agreed to bring Asch to the cottage.

 

 

Notes:

EDITED APRIL 24, 2018

Chapter 45: Lor’themar/Arthas dabbles 2

Summary:

Lor’themar Theron/Original female elf

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Silvermoon had a yearly, almost month long festival called the Creation Festival. Since the Black Temple and now, with the Scourge their numbers were in the low fifty-thousand.

The Creation Festival was a sacred, very secretive event where all the sin'dorei were invited to the city, they would close the gates and all around the mages endeavoured to blanket the city in sunsets and stars. Lor'themar was in the grand room of the citadel, watching as the sunny sky became overtaken by magic stars and milky pinks. It was his favourite event, not only did it help repopulate their dwindling race, it created life bonds and mates. Lor'themar had shared his first festival with his wife. It was her idea, since thousands upon thousands died in the war against Illidan and Kael, her promised prince.

Asch believed it would be what everyone needed at the time, and it was.

The number of babies born that year had tripled along with marriages and the morale of the people. Today was the first of the event and he watched people decorate the pavilions in pinks, purples and reds. People laid blankets in the parks and opened their doors and windows. It was truly one of the only events to bring all his people together.


And here he was, alone. They had been married for three years now, and the second creation event together. The first it was meant to test, to see what their people thought. And the second they had tried the hardest they've ever to make a baby, with no luck. This year... this year was hard. Arthas had drove a cliff between them just weeks ago. Asch wouldn't look at him, kept to herself and just two days passed, she began sleeping by herself. She refused to go to their bed after a while, making half hearted excuses about work, being Lady Regent and all. Lor'themar had the same amount of work, but still found their marriage bed before dusk settled.

He had created it himself, carving the figures in the headboard and shaping the columns. It was all for her and she loved it, a wedding gift never forgotten. Lor'themar watched as two young elves embrace, the girl giggling visibly as he picked her up and twirled her in the air. He smiled to himself, happy despite the pain in his home life.

Hal sauntered in before he had a chance to be upset.

"The Creation Festival seems to be going underway, exciting, no?" Hal loved the event, always disappearing for days before coming ack to the castle, full of secrets he wouldn't even tell Lor'themar. Rommath even snuck away somewhere. It was a time for love and conception, two things Lor'themar felt very far from.

"It is, it looks like it will go well this year." Hal comes too lean next too him, resting on the railing. "I wonder if Rom found a girl he won't tell us about, I can't find him today." Lor'themar chuckles, shaking his head.

"You care far too much about his personal life." Hal looks scandalized by his words, "why shouldn't I? He goes off the first day of the festival and you don't find that interesting?!" Well, yes. Lor'themar did. But he wouldn't go asking what the other man was doing with his time. It was a private event after all. The festival was about creating life bonds, not caring about status or rank. Lor'themar encouraged noble ladies to wed and bed bread makers, or Rom to find a simple girl from a simple family, so long as it was love.

Hal chuckles through the silence, shrugging his shoulder, "Oh well, I suppose I'll never know..." a serious note, "How's... your home life?" He didn't ask because he wanted to pry, he asked because he knew far to much already not too.

Lor'themar gives a pained sigh, opening the wound again. "I don't know where she sleeps now. I... don't ask." Hal's face twists sadly, "I didn't know, I'm sorry Lo." Lor'themar shrugs, waving it off. "She won't let me talk too her, won't let me tell her that what happened... that what happened was okay, that I don't blame her- that I'd do anything for her." He swallows, watching the couples below become happier as he becomes sadder. "Arthas-" he bites the name, "She trusted me, with everything... now she.. now she's- I don't know. I don't know what's going on with her anymore. She won't speak too me."


Hal has always been there, he was there when Lor'themar was seeing Asch in secret, was there when he heard about the betrayal and right next to him when they were married under the sun trees.

"Do you want me to find out, where she goes I mean?" I'm sure guards have seen her around. Then you could talk to her, figure things out." Lor'themar felt his heart ache, Hal was his brother. "Thank you, Hal." Was all he said in response. Hal inclined his head, pushing off the railing, "Give me ten minutes."

It only took seven.

Apparently Asch had be frequenting the abandon study that Kael used to use for magic and practices. Lor'themar saw no need in removing it or making use of the space, but he found it very strange that she would be there.


True to Hal's word, Lor'themar found the steps cleaned of dust in the space of feet, multiple sets going up and down, some steps even hand drag marks from dresses. When he entered the chambers he found no sign of her yet and took the liberty too look around.

The sofa was being used as her bed, many pillows and blankets were thrown across its lavish red cusions and the dust cover was stuffed under its belly. The table was covered in journals, newly opened and books of magic that looked too be skimmed through. Some articles of clothing where askew on an old mirror and hung off a chair. Lor'themar rifles through an open book, principles of fire, it read. Chapter eight.


"Oh," a spot gasp came ahead of him, Lor'themar looks up to find Asch, hands on the frame of the balcony door. Lor'themar lets go of the page he was skimming over. It had been days since he last saw Asch properly, her hair in a messy tail, braided lazily but still looked pretty. Her dress was long and milky yellow, like the sun behind a cloud.

"Hi," he say lamely, unable to find any else to say, "Hi..." she repeats, looking at her feet. Lor'themar feels pain in his chest. Look at me! He almost cried aloud, but instead he says, "wWhy are you in Kael's apartments?" Lor'themar knew the man spent much of us time up here alone, because Asch was not allowed inside. It was how he got to spend so much time with her in the first place. Always working, she said. Always ignoring her.

Asch fidgets like a child being lectured, "I don't know, it's quiet." That it was. The offices were so high up in the castle that almost all the sounds of the lower levels were but distance echos, if that. It was why Kael liked it so much. "You've never bothered to come here before." Lor'themar would know. Because they shared everything.

At least, they used too.

"Oh," is all she says at first, "I guess I didn't." Lor'themar wonders if he n't leave much to say, so Lor'themar doesn't try.was the one being ignored now, if he wasn't allowed up here like she wasn't all those years ago. Her response does

"You sleep here now, is there something wrong with our bed?" Asch doesn't dare look up from her feet when she responds, "it's too far, it's easier than having to climb all the way back up here." Lor'themar frowns, "And what are you doing up here that you can't do anywhere else exactly?" She had her office, it was connected to his by a den, one that they would often go to sleep in if they were tired enough. Lor'themar remembered how he would start a fire and she would fall asleep against his chest and he wouldn't bother to move.

"Reading his books," a poor excuse.

"You could've had them delivered to the office." A hefty retort.

"Oh, I guess I could have." Again she leaves no opening, Lor'themar grinds his teeth. "Asch why," her brow furrows in response, Lor'themar fumes gently, "Why won't you talk to me? Come to our bed? Why make excuses for... for all this!" He gestures angrily around him, hating the dusty space already, "Why won't you look at me?!"

She doesn't answer, Lor'themar actually becomes angry, "Dammit Asch! Talk to me!" She flinches a little, but doesn't answer, Lor'themar snarls, shoving books off the table. "Can't you see I love you? Don't you know that anymore?! Arthas hasn't changed that! What happened doesn't change anything!" Asch fell to her knees at his words, hiding her face in her hands, crying.

Lor'themar rushes to her, falling on his knees to wrap her in his arms. "Please," he begs, "Say something..." Even if it was to yell at him, Lor'themar didn't care. Just something, anything.

"I... I let him-" "No!" He refuses to hear that, "You saved my life, they were going too kill me" Asch fights him, trying to push away, "No! I... he- he touched me I... I'm ruined!" Lor'themar hushed her, shaking his head "No you aren't- nothing's changed between us you aren't ruined." Lor'themar pulls her face up, holding it too look a him "I love you darling."


It was rocky, but it was a start.

The Creation Festival was brought to an official start with fireworks, it had been a week of preparing, but now it was in full swing and couples were finding each other left and right. Lor'themar and Asch were slowly finding each other again as well, it was touch and go sometimes, she would slip away, but he wouldn't let her fall for long.


Lor'themar inhales, breathing in her soft scent. Asch smelt like moonberries and honey. Lor'themar kisses the spot under her ear, Asch sighs against him. Lor'themar winds his hands around her waist, pulling her back to his chest, wetly mouthing at her sweet spots. Elves ears were sensitive and easy to play with, Lor'themar liked the shivers she had when he licked up her ear lobe.

"Lo-" she gasps, squirming in his iron hold, the Regent Lord merely hums, "Lo... Lor'themar- stop...!" Lor'themar was baffled when he heard her speak the words, unlinking his arms as she scurried off his lap. "What's wrong my love?!" Lor'themar was puzzled, she never rejected him.

"We can't-" "Why not?" The idea was forming in his head, he didn't need her to answer why. "B-because!" Tears were filling her eyes, the distinct noise of sniffling could be heard, even though her back was turned.


"Asch- why?" He knew why. He knew. He still needed to hear it.


"Because..." a hard pause.

"Because he... he ruined me!" Lor'themar digs the heel of his palm into his scarred eye, feeling the pressure before he spoke, "ruined what Asch?" Lor'themar had to admit the frustration was mounting, how could he fix this if she wouldn't let him.

"I don't see anything ruined. I see my wife. My lover. My beautiful sun and air." Lor'themar saw the tears fall freely now, running like a river down her face. "He's still... his touch is-" "Let me erase it!" He desperately begs, "let me help you forget about this, don't you want to feel my touch? The love I have for you?" Lor'themar was practically on his knees, pleading.

"Let me hold you like before, love you the only way I can. Please my love, my Asch." Asch was broken by his words, slipping on the floor in a pool of her dress. "I was always there, wasn't I? When Kael wasn't, when he left you alone, I was there! Let me be here for you. Don't shut me out."


Asch snivels terribly, crying, than a response.

"W-when he was... was in his study y-you kept me company," Lor'themar nods frantically, easing onto the floor, "when he... he betrayed our people- you... you were there by- by my side."

"Yes," he stresses, "I'll always be here."

"I'm... I'm sorry I- should know... I should know you'd never- oh Lo," Asch falls forward, Lor'themar expectantly catches her in his arm, the dress at bunched and twisted annoyingly around their legs, but Lor'themar didn't care. "Let me fix this, all of it."

"Okay."


Lor'themar wasn't sure how he could fix it, but he tried to show her all the love he had in the kisses and touches he gave.


Nightmares came frequently, at night she would scream herself awake and scare half the castle into alert. The guards would rush inside, worried and ready to defend their lords consort, eventually the guards knew to stop coming. Night after night she would wake them up in a fit of tears and Lor'themar would cradle her in his arms and tell her it wasn't real.

Even sometimes during the day, Rommath and Hal were shocked the day it happened. Lor'themar got to his knees and hushed her in the middle of a meeting, the other two elves were worried sick, what happened, Rommath had asked when it was all over. Hal figured it out since Lor'themar had told him before, but Rommath was struck by the sudden outburst, so Lor'themar told him, the whole painful truth of what befell them in icecrown.


Rommath was the one to diligently stand by her, the two had always bonded because of Kael, but this was something else completely. Rommath gave her tea to drink before bed that would make her nights even dreamless. Lor'themar was grateful.

Sleep for them both came easier, she slept through the night with no issue. During the day was harder, her mind would wander, but when that happened she silently gravitated toward Lor'themar, hid her face in his shoulder and squeezed his arm until she came back. It was working, it was fine.


Lor'themar put a hand on her hip, absently squeezing it as he spoke with an emissary of the Banshee Queen. The Creation Festival was going, but the elf was under special order to relieve the reports and words from the Banshee Queen. Sylvanas would not be ignored, not even for a festival. Asch breathes in heavily, leaning her full weight against his back.

Rommath leans toward his shoulder, whispering to Ach, "Are you alright?" Lor'themar's ears perk and he glances back at her down drawn eyes and trembling fingers, "Y-yes..." her warm breath tickles his skin, "Here my lady," Rommath held his arm up, Asch wrenched away, almost collapsing in the Grand Magister's arms, Lor'themar hesitated, watching as Rommath walked her away to his throne. "Continue..." but Lor'themar stopped listening already.


It took quite a while for the meeting to end, Rommath was kneeling at her feet, rubbing her hands between his and muttering conversation. Lor'themar finally said farewell to the emissary and hurried over to Asch, Rommath spoke first. "Just memories, we've calmed down." Asch gives him a weak smile, eyes shining "I'm... I'm sorry I did that in... in front of-" "It's alright my love, perfectly alright." Asch pulls up from the throne, hugging him.

"Can we... can we go to our rooms...?" Lor'themar glances at Rommath, who nods curtly, "Yes my darling, we can."


When they got there he was met with trembling lips and scared touches, Lor'themar thinks it's much like their first time, but then. It was just that. This was the first time since what happened. Lor'themar holds her hips, kissing her gently on the lips. Lor'themar was sternly patient, as a ranger, a hunter. He knew how to stalk prey, how to calm her in his jaws.

Lor'themar paces forward, pushing her back into the wall of the bed, her knees bumped the frame. Lor'themar pulls the seam of her dress, pulling it apart and exposing her milky pinkish shoulders.

"My beautiful wife," he coos, kissing her neck. "May I?" She nods timidly, helping his remove her dress. Lor'themar eyes her flesh, then smiles, chuckling warmly. "A ribbon?" She squeezes her thighs, "Y-yes..." he kisses it, kneeling between her legs, it was ripped and frayed at the ends, "where did it come from?"

"Your... favourite cloak- I'm sorry!" She all but squeaks, Lor'themar rubs her thigh, excited to hear this, "It was?" He purrs, kissing the thigh it was placed on "Why did you do that?" Asch is shaking like a leaf, "I... I did it the day we- we got home..." Lor'themar hums, tightening it everso slightly.

Lor'themar's father taught him there were burdens and then there were soul crushing burdens.

Burdens were things that people shared, his father said only men who have things to hide keep their shoulders slumped with weights. But this burden, the Icecrown burden they both shared was hard and terrible. Rommath was her extension, Hal was his and the four together lifted it.


Lor'themar felt the horrors she did, knew the pain. Tonight they would share, they would let go of the pain.

Lor'themar ached, groaning as he sank inside her, kissing her ruthlessly, making sure she knew he cared with every ounce of his being.

"I love you," he whispers "so much."


"I love you Lo!" she whines, clawing at his shoulder blades, pulling him closer. It was everything he wanted, exactly what he needed, what they both needed.

They came in ecstasy, shaking against each other until nothing was left but to lay there and pant. "You are my everything," Lor'themar whispers breathlessly, Asch looks up at him, eyes droopy "Lo..." he leans to look at her, a soft smile crosses his handsome face, even his blind eye looks at her with love and adoration, "You are, you're everything I have ever wanted."

 

Notes:

EDITED ON
February Seventh, 2019

Chapter 46: Edan Dabbles 1

Summary:

Male Demon hunter/Jarod Shadowsong

Pronounced
E-Dan
Car-ous
Tad-eius

If anyone notices This is Illian's son, from his series of dabbles, if anyone read those too... Cause I'm a whore for my own characters and all. I head cannon really hard that elves call their parents ada (dad) and nana (mom) because lord of the rings ruined me.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text


Jarod stares at him, taking in the son of the Betrayer as he stands with his parents, between his father and mother. Nothing in the world was more protected then that child.


His eyes were smouldering, full of life as Malfurion leans over too talk to all of them, the inner circle of their family. Illidan touches his shoulder, the prodigy of the Stromrage clan smiles at his father. The boy was only a little taller then his mother, dark as his father and looked like a demon, but his eyes.

His eyes were innocent.

His build was thick, smaller then Jarod's own but very stocky. Edan's hair was clipped short, just shy of his shoulders. He had a trimmed beard that was kept and soft looking. It framed his lovely face, which still looked like his father. Jarod dares to infiltrate the circle, strutting up with no intentions other then introduction, but then the boy looks at him with those tainted eyes and he is at a loss for words.

"Commander," Illidan sees him, nodding in recognition. Jarod gulps, bowing lightly. Asch smiles, curtsying "hello, my lady, my lord. Little prince." Jarod sees the blush on the dark cheeks and feels smug. "S-sir," his voice cracked, but it was light, much lighter then Illidan's. It did however sound like the elder Stormrage before his transformation.

"You have grown quite a bit, how old are you now?" Elves grow much faster then humans do. "Eighteen sir," Edan says proudly, chest puffing lightly, Jarod perks, "ah, old enough to begin your apprenticeship, what have you chosen?"
Edan from what Jarod had heard was more like his mother, far more passive and less to anger, a little nervous about authority it seemed. Jarod hadn't been called sir in quite a while.

"Father won't allow me to be a hunter-" "with good reason!" Illidan interrupts, smiling dangerously, Edan huffs. "He also said I am not allowed to be a Magi..." this time the boy glares at his father, who only seems to look on at his son with fondness. "I want to be a warrior- you're a warrior aren't you Sir?" Jarod is taken aback by this. He had assumed the boy was going to be a priest or healing Druid like his mother.

"I am, what made you decide this?"

"I want to be like father and help people!" Illidan laughs at how proud his son sounds, "you've heard those tales my child-" "you still helped people father!" Illidan snorts, amused completely. "Oh hush," Asch smacks her husband, lovingly cooing at Edan, "yes, just like your father my moon." Edan blushes, embarrassed by her. "It is a noble desire, your father is a great man." Illidan's redemption was his children. Over the last years of the legion Illidan and Asch had made two other children.


One other boy and a daughter, Edan was the eldest, the turning point in the demon hunters life. While his other son, Tadeas was very young, they were all around the gathering, Tadeas was clutching his mothers leg looking nervously up at his brother. Their daughter, Kairos was behind her brother, hanging off her fathers arm and looking rather bored and hardly paying attention.


All of Illidan's children looked just like him. Jarod had heard of such a thing studying demons, children fathered by demons would always look like the demon, rather then the mother. It was to insure the demon wouldn't abandon it, the more the offspring looked as it's sire the more likely it would raise it. The only one of the Illidan's brood that looked different was his daughter, Kairos. She had slightly lighter hair then her brothers and held her mothers leaf markings.

"And what do the rest of your children wish to become?" Illidan sighs out a laugh, pulling his wife right to his side, Illidan touches his youngest boys head, "this one isn't sure and Kair also wants to be an Illidari. Even though I have said no."

Kair huffs, "ada thinks I should be a priest-" "or anything else." She glares, bumping his hip, Illidan shoos her, "go find your uncle Ezra." Kair is sweeping grace as she stalks away, flicking her long ashen hair over her shoulder.

"I hate girls. Never have one." Asch laughed under her hand, shaking her head, "she used to be my little princess. Now is she moody and demanding."

All of his children were beautiful. "Ada!" Tadeas calls from behind his mother, Illidan makes a show of leaning over, flicking his wings, the little boy stands on his toes, whispering something to his father. He couldn't be more then three. "Ah..." Illidan has a smile forming. It had been a long road but Jarod is happy too see how light and playful the demon has become.

Illidan picks him up, "my love," he says in a teasing voice, "would you like to dance with us?"

"How can I say no?"

Jarod watches as she moves with them to the floor, both taking Illidan and her babies hand. Malfurion even takes his wife's hands, bowing deep before offering a dance, she accepts of course, leaving Edan left behind with Jarod. Kair is dancing with Asch's brother, Ezra and Jarod chuckles.


"It seems you have no partner," Jarod says, watching the boy look around at his family. "Yeah..." he looks puzzled, Jarod bows, extending his hand out, "if I may- I would like this dance?" It wasn't odd too see two males dancing together, in fact it was very commonplace. Edan looks nervous, but accepts the hand. Jarod leads them over and takes lead. Edan knew how to dance, but he wasn't very good.

"How old are your siblings?" Jarod was very curious about the Stormrage children, seeing as Illidan wasn't exactly the family type of man. Edan coughs a laugh out, sucking in a breath, "Kair is fifth-teen and Tadeas is two. Don't tell anyone but I think mother is pregnant again..." Jarod blinks, looking over at Illidan and his wife. "Father isn't very careful- at least mother tells me so." Jarod can believe that.

"Mother thinks he does it on purpose," he's shaking his head, "does he?" Edan thinks a moment, swaying with the commander. "I think so... it's nice but I worry a little- mother has had two miscarries because father isn't... completely elven," Jarod had heard about that, the child after Edan was lost in the early stages and the third after their daughter was lost five months into her pregnancy. After a long time it became easier for the family to talk about it, Malfurion regards those times as the darkest he's ever seen his brother endure.

"No one can really ever say no to Illidan-" this has Edan bursting out in laughter, "except mother. She's the only one who can say no." Jarod smirks, nodding along to his words, pulling him closer. Edan doesn't noticed at first but once he sees it, the young elf becomes bashful. "What kind of warrior do you wish too be?" Edan feels his breath tickle his face, "I... I don't know... whatever is close enough too what father is."


Jarod dips him, sweeping him off his feet for a moment before righting them and getting even closer, "you adore your father very much, don't you?" Edan eagerly nods, looking over to his father, watching him dancing intimately with his mother despite his little brother Tadeas between them. "I've heard all the stories, how he was imprisoned and what he's done... father wasn't wrong but not right either. I want too be good as he is now."

"This makes you want to be an Illidari?" Edan nods, their noses brush for a moment and the young elves breath hitches, "I-I do, very much." Jarod hums, cupping his back, holding his hip gently. Edan was beautiful, as capturing as his mother, "but he won't let you become one?" Edan shakes his head, "no, I understand why... it is painful and may even kill me... I've seen how it's done. Father showed me." It was a beastly process and elves that endured it became very powerful.

The song ended but Jarod and Edan didn't notice, immersed in their own little world.

 

XXX


Watching his mother, his father. It was like seeing the stories come to life. She wasn't much of a fighter, but father made up for that in heaps, while she gave him strength back and healed his wounds. Father didn't even flinch as he was gashed, no sooner it happened it was gone with one of his mothers spells. Edan was in awe, mother said she fought Gul'dan, brought father back and continued by his side as though ten thousand years of separation didn't exist between them.

Edan wasn't allowed too help, he was only permitted to watch because Jarod was there to protect him and his siblings, should any demon get passed. Argus was a hell space and it was his fathers duty to clean it.

There was finally, finally a pause in fighting where Edan was allowed to scurry into the field, dodging husks of demons as he made his way to his father and mother, no sooner were they joined by Maiev and the Archmage, Khadgar.

Edan had only ever heard of Maiev Shadowsong, the warden that imprisoned his father.

"Maiev," Illidan greets with a short snarl, wings beating behind his back. The warden doesn't even look at him, for one terrifying moment, Edan thinks she's looking at him. He can't tell, not with that helmet of hers, but the way her body jerks and how her throat bubbles with a disgusted growl, he knows.

Father always was a serious man about things, about his mother and his children and even simple things. He taught Edan to be clever. He taught him not too feel bad when people tried to make him. But something in Edan went cold, helpless when the warden looked at him.

"Ah," her awful voice rasped, fist on her propped hip, Glaive clutched "the Betrayers spawn. How sweet." Edan had been called this before, had heard many call him worse. Fowled Stormrage children, third bred whelps. He was especially called the Tainted Prince.

Kair was glaring, closed off and clinching her fist, Tadeas was too little to understand and was clutching mothers staff.

"I had heard you'd given life to one son, not three," Maiev makes a show of looking Edan from the ground up, seemingly unimpressed.  "I'm a girl!" Kair snaps, making her pretty face fowl with a frown and scrunched nose.

"It seems as though I have a whole new generation to chase-" "my children are none of your concern." Maiev laughs at this, making father angry. "Of course they are. Look at them. Demons." She sounded so sure.

This time mother speaks up, in a voice Edan has never heard before, "you forget your place warden. Don't make me remind you." Maiev ignores the jab, focusing solely on Edan now, "my my," she drags on, "he looks just like you Betrayer, too little for his wings, maybe I should cut them off?" Father looked furious, "sister enough. What have you come here for?" Illidan whips around, facing mother.

Over the years Edan has watched his parents, she looks up at him with golden eyes and his pain and hatred has all but vanished, it was as if they were speaking too each other. It was amazing to Edan.

Jarod and his sister were arguing, hushed yells, but yells all the same. Edan goes to his father, looking worried. "Do not listen to her little moon," mother says as he comes. Mother was beautiful, Illidan has her hand in his, Edan shakes his head "it's okay. I have heard this all before, father said to let it go," Illidan nods, ruffling his feathery hair.


"You are no demon, son." His father had a warm voice, one that resonated in Edan's bones and made him feel safe. "I know." Out of the three of them Edan was most like his father, although Kair was a girl and wouldn't look like a dread lord, Tadeas might one day. Edan hasn't reached his full maturity and father said he could not say what would befall Edan when he did. Illidan was turned into a demon, not born. It was a scary thought.

Mother kept saying he was only a third of one and father was half, arguably father looked more then half, what with the hooves and horns and all. Mother promised it wouldn't matter, that nothing would change at all. Edan was content with that much.

 

XXX



Edan stays up, listening too the sounds of nature around him. Mother was humming a song upstairs and father was laughing at something. Kair was asleep in Tadeas' room last Edan had seen, but here Edan sat, upset and confused.

Edan knew disturbing his parents was wrong, but he goes anyway, tapping the wooden door until he was called in, mothers soft voice rung out, Edan goes through. Father was laying on his belly, hooves on his pillow as mother tended to his tattered wings. She had a wet cloth in her hands and he was looking lazily up at the door with a content, dopey smile.

"Hello little moon, come here." Mother always made him feel better, even if he felt babied. Edan was careful of his fathers wings as he sat on the bed. "What's wrong?" Edan huffs, shrugging, where to begin?

"Why are you and father together? How did it happen?" Mother seems to perk up at his question, smiling wildly. "Oh my. Let me see. Your father and I grew up together, he was smitten-" "so smitten," Illidan chuckles, flexing like a cat. Edan finds his father amusing, laughing behind his hand. "We both were... we had a lot of trouble finding each other however, one day he disappeared." The trouble was aunt Tyrande and the disappearing was the Black Temple. "We've always just been.. connected in a way I suppose." Edan nods, playing with the blanket.


"Were you afraid of father? You said I look just like him, so when you saw what he became, did it frighten you?" Mother seems to pause her cleaning, looking at him with a little worry. Illidan turns his head, thick brow tilting, "no... he didn't- I was more angry that he left me and died-" father snorts loudly, interrupting her. "But no, not afraid... what has you asking this little moon?" Edan bites his lip, "well... I-"

"Who is she?" Illidan is smugly smirking at Edan, "w-what, father I-" "you wouldn't be asking why we're together or what your mother thought of me if it wasn't about a woman..." Edan clamps his mouth shut, embarrassed, should he even say?

"Oh Illidan," mother scolds, batting his wing "it isn't. It must be what Maiev had said. Little moon if you think people will be frightened of you if you grow to look more like your father-" "no mother... fathers... right." Illidan looks triumphant, mother doesn't look amused by his posturing. "Well, who is she?"

"... Jarod," a beat.

Silence.

Edan felt crippled by the quiet, he shouldn't have spoken.

"She is a he..." Illidan muses, more pondering then anything, "you couldn't have picked any other man to be interested in?" Edan almost chokes. Mother sighs, going back to his fathers wings, "so the real questions than, little moon" Edan is frazzled.

"How did you know you loved father?" Mother shrugs, "this, I just knew. I love your father with all my heart. Since we were young, all that time apart." Illidan looks struck with affection, melting into the sheets as she cares for his wing, "do you love Jarod?" Edan didn't know, he didn't know what it was suppose too feel like, so he shrugs. "I... I want too- but... but what if I grow horns or claws or-" "slow down," Illidan tells him, "if you do than you do. This is something I have cursed you with-" "not cursed!" His mother stresses, upset.

"But have given nonetheless. If Jarod or any other is not accepting of this fact than they are not worth the interest." Mother was nodding to his words, little annoyed by his earlier statement. Father told him once that power excites interest and father has gotten plenty of attention. Edan was born into a powerful name from a powerful sire. He would carry the Stormrage name, but everyone else would be saying it. Mother was a powerful woman without father, his uncle Malfurion and aunt Tyrande were all marked in history. It was a massive burden to bare. Another thing father said he has cursed his children with.

Edan was afraid he wouldn't live up to it all and said as much in a terrified whisper, Illidan grips his sons leg with a firm hand. "I'd be glad if you didn't. I'd rather this name fade with me. It was never yours to take, humans want so much to be remembered. I'd rather be forgotten and left too peace." Asch shakes her head, smiling, "he's lying. Never once has your father been humble about anything." Illidan flinches badly, looking offended.


But he didn't dispute her claim.


Edan knows what love looks like when he looks at his parents, feels warm and safe when they look and speak too him, but he didn't know what it would feel like. What it meant to be in love. Edan has heard Illidan and Asch, the story of his parents love. It was one of the most known and ageless tales. Their love made him first, the redemption of the Betrayer. Mother liked too say that they made Edan with so much love nothing inside or out of him was tainted by demonic energies. Mother romanticized it of course, father told him the truth of it.

He was as much demon as his father was, but what mattered was how he decided to act upon it. Edan had no connection to any demonic powers, that he knew of. Edan wasn't about to try and make one either.


"Little moon?" Edan snaps back, blinking at his father, who is right side up on the bed and looking tired. Edan realizes how late it has become, "so-sorry!" He squeaks, clambering off the bed, his mother smiles "if you need to talk about this or about anything else, we will listen little moon," Illidan nods, yawning lightly. "Now off too bed," he commands, Edan does as told, wishing them a goodnight.


Edan was too little for his wings, this was obvious to anyone who watched him carry the massive weight. Still Illidan made sure he held his head high. And like his father, Edan's wings acted upon his emotions, flaying and twitching. They would open in his flurry and almost tip him over. Mother said he looked very cute all puffed, it reminded her of his father. Edan felt a little proud about that. They were the exact same size and shape as his fathers, although less tattered and beaten.

"Edan! Watch it!" Kair was behind him, getting batted in the face, she smacked and pushed the offender, growling at him with hatred, "nana helped me put this braid in!" It was thoroughly ruined, Edan puckered his lips, biting into his cheek not to laugh.

"Ada!" She wails, bouncing her body in bratty frustration, their father saunters in, looking pensively at the two, "he ruined my hair!" Illidan frowns in confusion, "what am I to do about it? Go find your nanath" Kair stomps off growling all the way. "I didn't do it on purpose..." Illidan chuckles, leaning into the bookshelf. "Smarter men than I say that without tails or wings animals would be unbalanced and clumsy, apparently that didn't apply to animals who weren't born with them." Edan makes a confused hum, all his father does is flick out his own wing, batting the air.

"The lord of the temple was not very graceful," Edan blinks, connecting the pieces, than laughing outright. His wings shake with his body, "you? Really?" Illidan nods, a smug look on his face, "I knocked a few people over more then once. Khadgar even. Don't tell him I told you. It was his fault- he shouldn't have been behind me." Edan hasn't toppled anyone over yet, he's come close with Kair but he's only gotten himself stuck or knocked inanimate objects over.


"Sit still," his father says in a more serious tone, Edan freezes, taken aback as he approaches. Illidan grabs his sons jaw gently, tilting his head down, "is it inching here? It's bruised- have you been scratching?" The pads of his fingers touch the tender spots on Edan's crown, lightly fanning over them, inspecting it. "Y-yeah... what?!" Illidan strokes his hair back, looking at his son with a soft expression. "You're getting horns," his father always had the ability to make terrifying things seem like no big deal at all.

Still, Edan gulps, looking up at the incredible poker face his father wore. "Oh," is all he says at first, touching his forehead "that's okay... right?" Illidan snaps out of whatever trance he was in, "it will be."

The horns broke his skin and made his hair matted and bloody only a few days after his father discovered he would have any at all. His mother was cooing over him and tendering washing the clots of blood away around the stem. "They are thick, wide." She muses, touching the still blunted tip. They didn't poke more then an inch off his head.

"They'll grow big... for the shape- I can't say right now. Does it still hurt?" It was hurting now. But Edan lies. Father told him to since mother worries so much about all the changes he was going through. Father said he'll never forget when his wings sprouted, how loud his mother had screamed. They thought he was dying.

It was like something was trying to push out of his brain. Father said that's exactly what was happening. They were dormant on his skull, waiting like wisdom teeth to rip out of there hiding. It would hurt until they grew a few more inches away from his head. Then he wouldn't feel it at all.

His father even offered to help him cut off whatever emerged. Edan said not to brother since they would have to keep doing that.


However, more and more people kept looking at him as an enemy. Friends of his parents said just how much he looked like Illidan, Edan looked at himself and saw something that scared him.

He had no claws, but his hands were dark and blackish, when he bled it was green. The Tainted Prince indeed. Edan stares at the figure in the water. Pulling his hair back. Even without the tattoos he looked like his father. He looked like the lord of the temple. Father still had the royal air about him, but it was softened by family and his mother, who tempered out all the poison his father had. Edan was born without poison, created without taint.


Yet...



Edan flexes his wings, he hadn't been getting better with controlling them, but he could fold them out too the real size. The water at his feet ripples as he tilts his head, looking at the figure before him. In the shimmer he almost looked like it.

The Betrayer.

Edan shakes his head, heart pained. Father wasn't like that anymore, Edan certainly wasn't like the demon his father escaped. He wouldn't become it either, no matter how similar everyone said they looked.

"Well well. The little prince." Edan's chest caved, but he didn't show it. Maiev would eat him alive. "Warden," he tilts his head in respect, mother said always to show respect. Still, Maiev doesn't seem to like the show of it and snarls. "Finally embracing your heritage I see," her head jerks to his horns, Edan lifts his hand to caress one. They hadn't gotten very big yet, but it was obvious he had them.

"What do you want Warden? You wouldn't speak to me unless you had purpose too." Maiev laughs at him, Edan swallows bile and steels himself, like father would. "You're so much like him. It's sickening. Very well prince, you are right. I did want to speak too you." Edan waits for her to continue.

"I shackled your father like the animal he is and I'll do the same to you the second you step from your precious light." Edan can't help but feel anger at her words, it came blazing and hot, ready.

"You're a disgusting woman," he spits darkly, surprising the Warden into actually flinching. "Calling my father an animal, calling me demon fowl. Who do you think you are? No one will remember you save for being a footnote in my fathers life!" He didn't know where this rage came from, but it boiled over like bubbling water.

"You act as if you're the all-mighty, that your powerful enough too subdue him, me. If it is anyone- you should be shackled!" His voice howled over in a tone he's never heard before, at least from himself. Edan has heard it plenty enough before.

From demons.

Edan didn't even realize he advanced her, not until he saw the gleam of her glaive in front of his eye. Edan cranes away, the blade almost slices his throat. Sudden panic envelops him. He had been this close to death. The Warden didn't seem to notice this, Maiev was in her own state of emergency, heaving and panting under her helmet as she undoubtedly stares at him with shock and awe.

Edan still riding his high, says: "animal."

"Edan?!" The battle is struck to the dust when Edan sees from the bushes, Jarod, full of twigs and leaves. "Maiev?!" Edan flaps his wings, scowling despite who came.

"What's going on?" He asks, worried.

"She's threatening me," gods. He sounds just like father.

"Maiev!" Jarod howls. How sweet.

"Tried to kill me," mother is going to be very mad at him.


Edan felt too smug, he crosses his arms, glaring into the pond as Jarod explodes on his sister. Very much like father. In fact, Edan almost couldn't see a difference.

"You threatened him? Tried to kill him?! Are you insane? When does this crusade end sister?" Jarod sounds just as exasperated as father and mother always do when talking to the warden. "This is Asch Redfires son-" "and Illidan's spawn," Maiev interrupts, as if it was a good excuse.

"And Malfurion Stormrage and Tyrande Whisperwinds nephew-"

"Yes my family is very important," Edan snipes, having enough of it. "But she didn't threaten my family. She threatened me. So I will deal with it. Not my family." Father said he was happy with his son making no legacy of his line, but Edan wasn't going to just be known because of his father, his aunt or mother. He was going to be known for himself, what he had become. And this is where it begins.


"You've said it before, Warden. I am a watery third bred, as is my sister and brother. What, if anything- can I do?" This silenced the siblings. "All I have ever wanted was too help people, like my father is now. I do not want to rule over temples, slaughter and enslave. I want to be a warrior. I want to be left too peace." He snarls the last bit, exposing his teeth to her, "I do not want to be the Tainted Prince."


Jarod looked struck by his confession, pained even, but Edan is too hurt to care. "Leave me be warden," he says as a sigh, "leave my father, leave my mother. Leave us be."


A long, silent moment with only crickets to fill the gaps.

"Go, Maiev" Jarod commands in a low, hissing sigh, shoulders slumped. The warden jerks, her armor making a sick scraping noise. She huffs, disgruntled and angry, it tells Edan that it isn't over.

"When did those come in?" Jarod's voice is softer, more welcoming. "A week, maybe more?" Edan childishly tries too look up at his head, tilting it comically, giving the other elf a better look. Jarod chuckles, waking closer and scrunching the grass under his plated feet. "Control your wings yet?" Edan spins around and flutters them, swaying them and amusing Jarod.


The elder elf chuckles, shaking his head "I can't fly but... it's something?" It was bazaar how easy it was too talk to the other.

"Say..." Jarod smirks lightly, crossing his arms, "you wouldn't happen to be going to Khadgar and Modera's wedding?" Edan knew his parents were attending and he had yet to answer if he was. "You are?" It was surprising considering the Mage and Jarod weren't in the same circle.

"Yes, Modera invited me." Edan inhales sharply.

"Yes of course!"

Notes:

EDITED Dec 31, 2017

Chapter 47: Anduin/Wrathion dabbles 1

Summary:

Anduin/Wrathion/original character

Rip my Anduin dabbles turned into a threesome lol

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Asch was frantic, the council room was askew.

"Where is Anduin! Where is my husband!" Asch fists the fur across the arm rest of the kings throne. No one could really answer her. Genn was gone, as was Velen. No one here knew where he went. Anduin didn't even tell her.


The queen was terrified. What had happened too him? The guards were just as tense. "Beg your pardon my queen, but please. Hold yourself." Asch shoots the adviser a thick glare. Then realizes that she was acting ruler. So long as Anduin was away his queen was in command.

Asch never thought she would have to do this. "I... I-" Asch stutters, watching them all look at her. Anduin would not want her fumbling. "What do I do?" Asch knew it didn't sound very leader-like. The adviser gives her a wrinkled smile. "Nothing of immediate attention my queen. Just care how you speak. I know you are distraught but it does no good to worry the soldiers." The royal guard was already tense with worry. Still, Asch nods. Straightening herself and quietly worrying over Anduin.

 

XXX

 


"You should not be here!" Genn hisses loudly, looking upon the face of his sad king. "I had to see it." Anduin insists, moving passed them.

"Anduin..." Velen protests weakly, watching the boy. Anduin had never seen such horrors as this. Not with his own eyes. The ashes of his father lay in the fel soaked dust. Velen pities him, feeling his own sadness well up.

Anduin brushes the dirt, heart beating in his ears as he uncovers Shalamayne. The battered hilt was heavy as he pulled it.

Velen watches curiously as the light shines around him. Than he jolts, mouth agape. He was having a vision! Velen could feel the magic of the light, it was so strong amidst the fel energy. The light beats like a drum, humming out waves of power. It blinds Genn but Velen has never seen more clearly.

Anduin turns and in the young kings hands was his father weapon, revived and shining with light magic.

"What now little cub?" Velen sees fit to ask, staff scrapping into the dirt. Anduin eyes the weapon, furrowed brow. For a moment he doesn't answer, too focused. Velen watches him grip the weapon in both hands, holding the blade close to his face. Anduin grits his teeth, the weapon resists for a moment. Then, In a magnificent burst of light, it becomes two. Anduin regards the weapons, trembling.

"Now it is time the king of Stormwind does what he must."

Velen can almost breathe in the light magic, it froths around Anduin like a murky fog. It made his light hair even blonder. It looked utterly transcendent. Genn swallows hard, watching it all unfold.

They go without another word and Velen smiles.

The little cub had become a lion.


Asch was perched upon his throne, worrying the hem of her dress, "attention for the king!" Asch whips too the mouth of the hall, gasping lightly. "Anduin!" Asch hurries off the marble steps, losing her shoes down the hall as she races too him. Anduin flinches, confused as she bolts. Anduin opens his arms.

"Darling! My love!" Asch babbles, uncaring of the world around her. Anduin chuckles, twirling her. "Where were you!" He slows them, holding her up against himself. "I was worried sick! You left in the middle of the night!" Her pretty face frowns, glaring at him. Anduin lets her down, sheepishly grinning at her blunt anger.

"It was important... I'm sorry." He gestures to the sword at his hip. Asch ogles it, "Shalamayne? You found it?!" Anduin nods, tapping the hilt with his palm. "It was too dangerous for you... I was worried you'd follow if I told you." Asch smacks him in the chest. Anduin is thrown off by it, but then she latches into his middle, hugging him.

"You silly man. Don't do such a thing again!" Anduin pets her hair, eyes fluttering closed. "I won't-" Genn laughs, snorting loudly. Anduin eyes him with a confused smile. Genn waves his hand, chuckling about something to do with women. Anduin thought it best not to ask.

 

 

XXX

 


Anduin knows lions. His father always made sure he knew what capable beasts they were, why it was the Alliance's crest. Lions were terrifying powerhouses. Made of muscles and rage. Anduin pulls his shoulders back and stalks, crawling along the bed as Asch giggles at him. Anduin kisses up her knee. Running his nose over the flesh. Lions trail their mates, wait from them to present. They mount them, lick and nip at the flesh of the neck.


Anduin's hands draw up her soft flesh. Asch slides down into the bed, hair fanning out and legs spreading nicely. Lions protect and loom. Anduin lowers himself. Fitting perfectly between her legs. Asch paws at his throat, trying to pull him close. Anduin fills her, groaning at the heat.

Asch pulls back into the pillows, keening and shaking. "Oh..." she mutters, scoring his skin with her nails. Anduin nips her flesh, purring around his teeth. Lions were rough, so was he.

Usually, they made love. Anduin was never rough with her, never tried to go beyond light marks and a little teasing. But Anduin was no cub. No white pawn.

Anduin was a lion.


Anduin bites her throat, harshly. Asch bares it for him, submitting like a proper lioness. Anduin finds it alluring. His father always told him base instinct was what made kings mighty. What you feel at your core was right. His father always followed that rule, even in death. Varian's base instinct told him to protect his pride, his kingdom. His son. Anduin was beginning to understand. Following what felt right.

Anduin pulls out, much to his wife's displeasure, surprise overtakes Asch as he flips her, burying his cock before she had a moment to protest. This. Body draped over her, hiding her flesh and consuming. Anduin drops his head between her tight shoulders. Breathing in her scent. Asch pants, groping behind her to catch his forearm. Anduin allows her to claw at his arm. He was gripping a chunk of her neck in his jaw. Drooling lightly around the flesh.

Asch shutters, looking absolutely ruined in the furs. A mighty lioness. Asch bows deeper. Pushing her plump ass into his ramming pelvis, she whines his name, overtaken by lust.

Anduin beats her into the pillow with his hips, forcing her forward with each thrust. The beautiful queen bends to his will, allowing him complete control.

"Anduin-" Asch squeaks, her whole body is pressed into the bed, her breasts flat and rubbed into the sheets.

She was stressed so tightly the bed, no breathable space- "quickly my queen I heard your- oh my," Wrathion yelps out the words, his heart stinging. Anduin shouts, looking baffled and red. The black dragon was equally shocked, the pair were on the bed, the king curled over his queen. The sheets were askew, "Wrathion fucking hells!" Anduin snarls ripping the sheet over his wife. The black dragon only stares at the red faces, sweat covered bodies.

All too suddenly he snaps back, snorting as if it was a joke, "being a little too rough are you?" He gestures to the screaming queen, the piece of his heart clearly hidden between her supple breasts. Now he understand what happened. "When I said keep it close I hadn't ever thought..." he almost laughs. Only this would happen to poor Anduin. The king colors and glares, fusing his hair away from his face. "Idiot- leave!"

"Ha!" He snipes, laughing now, "yes yes of course-" "wait!" The queen still under her king yelps for their attention, "what... what if he stayed?" Anduin shakes his head, a confused look upon his face, "what? Stays..? Wha- no. What? No!" Asch glares thinly at her husband. Wrathion quiets, now intrigued.

His ears can pick up their whispers very easily, "it's your fault he's here if you hadn't pushed me so hard into the bed," Wrathion quirks a brow, "and that means he should stay? Why do you want him to stay?!" Asch's eyes dart away, face coloring a whole new pink. "Asch," Anduin says, understanding what she wants "you aren't serious? That's not proper-" "no one knows he's here. It could be our secret. You owe me for leaving without warning!" Anduin huffs, frowning "so you think I'll allow another man inside you?!" Wrathion licks his lips, his mouth was going dry.

"Anduin!" She snaps, but he doesn't back down. "What? It's what you're asking! Unbelievable-" "it isn't like that!" "What is it like then?! Tell me!" Asch doesn't have an answer, by the look of shame on her face. Anduin snarls lowly, eyes growing darker, "Wrathion. Come here."

The black dragon almost feels like he was floating with how quickly and smooth his steps are. Wrathion stops short of climbing on the bed, knees pressed into the mattress. "You will not finish inside of her, you won't leave any marks and this will never happen again. Now get undressed."

Anduin pulled Asch into his lap. Making her squeak, Wrathion hurried out of his clothes, even the turban upon his head, hiding his black horns. Despite his warning Anduin himself bites deeply into her neck, making her cry out and squirm in his iron hold. Wrathion glances at his hands, fingers dipping between her cheeks. Anduin nips her throat and Wrathion watches an uncomfortable look cross Asch's face.

"You wanted it," he snaps, hand jerking between her legs, "come here." He beckons Wrathion, the black dragon clambers behind the queen, the soft pillows cushioning his fall as Anduin pushes him down with his free hand. Now the dragon can clearly see his fingers at work, opening up her arse.


The queens cunt is shiny, raw and pink. The lips were swollen and her wetness was sliding down her thighs. Wrathion inhales heavily, finding it difficult to breathe.

"Have you ever seen a woman before?" Wrathion shakes his head, gulping. Anduin smirks gently, a smile almost breaking the cool exterior, "you never do get used to the sight..." Anduin looks at Asch, winking. Asch grips his shoulders, whining as he opens her.
"Go on," Anduin prods, kissing the side of her face. Wrathion yelps when Asch grabs him, keening as she holds his cock still.


"It's her first too..." Anduin says, helping her down into Wrathion. Asch moans obscenely loud as he's sheathed, "Anduin! F-full- t-to full..." Wrathion feels his cock squeezed, "I know my love, look how good you're doing." Wrathion can actually feel the drag of Anduin's cock inside of her. The black dragon had heard of humans doing this, he never believed it. Just like dragons, humans were horribly possessive. Wrathion himself thought Anduin was too strict for such a thing. Still the king surprises him.


"Sinful," he starts voice wrecked, "isn't it?" Wrathion chokes out a laugh as Anduin moves his hips, forcing them too move at his will. Wrathion has no control over what's happening. He suspects that was by design.

"I... understand why... why you mortals," Wrathion moans, gripping the sheets as Asch tightens around him, "would kill for this." This time Anduin chuckles, more put together sounding. Wrathion hates it. "I'd kill a titan for this." Wrathion believes him. Asch falls back onto him, grabbing his hands and placing them on her full breasts. Wrathion squeezes them, mouthing at her neck but leaving no marks.

"Mhm..." Anduin grunts, watching while shifting his hips. "Do you want him inside of you?" Anduin asks, ripping at her exposed jaw, marking it harshly. "He- he is!" Asch moans, clutching at Wrathion's hands.

"No, inside you?" Asch halts, looking up at her husband, "o-okay-" suddenly the pressure building in Wrathion dies away and Anduin moves off, completely. Taking Asch with him. "Do not finish inside." He eyes the dragon, Wrathion eyes him back, "go on," he instructs, leaning back.


Asch mounts Wrathion's hips, pulling his cock back inside her, this time it fills her warm cunt, Wrathion stares with wide eyes, shuttering at the wet feeling. Anduin watches with no hidden amusement as his queen sets too the task, mounting the ever transforming dragon. Wrathion was terrible at holding his human appearance, the claws that gripped the plush of her hips, flexing but not daring to mark them. "Ah-hah..." Asch whines, throwing her head back.

Smoke billows from his nose frantically, the excitement in his red bloody eyes had Anduin humming, egging the dragon on. "You've told me once before your males are dominate, correct?" Wrathion can only manage a dumb, unfocused nod, Anduin grins. "Then why aren't you?" It was a taunt, it was permission. This Wrathion heard properly. The two share a look and Wrathion lets Asch abuse his cock for a moment, rocking into the bed until he decides.

In one swift movement, Asch is on her back, digging her body into the sheets, mewling. Wrathion is predatory, the slits of his eyes were thin as needles. Anduin smirks at his snarling, head in hand as he watching his wife jolt under the pressure of Wrathion's rutting. It was violent and she was howling. Anduin wonders if the guards can hear.


Asch yanks Wrathion down, consuming his lips with fever, a string of saliva threads between their open mouths, “harder- faster oh gods please!” Wrathion hisses, ramming his hips into hers. Asch squeals, arching into his body, their bellies press together. Wrathion puts a hand under her back, holding her up without a choice. Asch clings too him, clawing at his hair, pulling him to her.

Anduin sighs loudly, pleasantly. Asch tears away from Wrathion, looking right at him. “Baby-“ she chokes out a moan, “want... you- oh!” Wrathion pistons his hips, Anduin tuts.

“We’ve made her wanton,” Anduin crawls forward, “lift her,” Wrathion mindlessly does as told, Asch falls onto his chest, sucking his neck. Anduin positions himself between her cheeks, slipping inside without friction. Wrathion jolts, the pressure against his cock increases as Anduin fills her other hole and Asch starts squeezing his cock in pleasure.

The queen lets out a mewl, unable to stay up, Anduin kisses her hair, rolling his hips, “can you lift her?” Wrathion was vaguely insulted Anduin didn’t think he could. So he pulls her up in a swift motion, both their cocks almost taken from her warmth before he drops her back down with a force that has her freezing.

Anduin grunts, smirking. Meeting every drop of her body with tilted hips, making the angle erratic and new.

Wrathion watches with hooded eyes as Asch just takes it, head now resting on her kings shoulder. Wrathion’s eyes dart too her open neck, he can hear the pulse and see the cords moving in her throat. Anduin eyes him, rubbing his hand over the soft flesh as his other toys with her swollen breast.

“I suppose it can’t be helped,” his voice was guttural, wrecked and deep, “once. Only once.” Wrathion wanted to snort, he was undoing all his own rules. Wrathion licks his teeth before biting into her flesh. If he was allowed only once, he would make it good.

Right against her pulse, he bit then sucked until she was squirming and begging for more. Anduin dips his head, creating his own harsh mark.

“C-coming-!” She blurts before screaming, Wrathion lets her jerk her hips, chasing her wild pleasure. Anduin growls, stilling inside. Wrathion eyes Anduin, challenging him as he breaks the last rule.


Anduin wasn’t happy at all.

Asch was laying there, completely used and boneless, reduced to jelly. “I told you not too,” he muses, softly wiping away their copious amount of semen. Wrathion’s was a tad more yellowish in color and oozing quickly out of her. Still the dragon helps, holding her thighs open as the king cleans it all.

“You also said no marks and yet.” A big, black and ugly mark surrounded her beautiful neck, lined with teeth and crusted blood. Anduin wasn’t amused with the retort.


Anduin finishes with a kiss too her shoulder and dumps the cloth, Wrathion straightens himself, readying to leave.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Anduin has a brow tilted, Wrathion pauses for a moment and that was enough to answer the kings question. “Oh no. Not after that. Get back here.” Wrathion was very happy too.

 

XXX

 

 


It was very normal for dragons to have two or more mates, consorts they were called.

It wasn’t however normal for humans.

Wrathion explained his part while Anduin and Asch did there’s. Asch would become his prime consort, his mate. Anduin by proxy would too.

For dragons this was simple. Alexstrasza had two mates, two males that birthed her children, two that gave her equal and separate attention. Wrathion was not interested in coupling with Anduin, much to the kings relief, but he was still his mate. Wrathion viewed them both as such, Asch was his prime and Anduin was hers. However, the human side, their side was the difficult part.


Wrathion knew much of the politics, any children he fathered were bastards and scandals, while Anduin’s would be crown princes and kings, if they’re parentage didn’t come into question. Wrathion knew it would. Humans don’t like dragons, or women from what he gathered. Now that was appalling alone to the black dragon. Woman were the carriers and mothers. The beautiful providers of life and love. Asch coos and kisses him for saying it.


The arrangement they made was annoying, but necessary. Wrathion was to maintain their friendship, which was easily done. He was not allowed too be seen entering or leaving the castle unless he was invited to stay. This was also easy considering his nature. Lastly, if he wanted personal time with his prime he needed to do it outside and far away from the castle so they wouldn’t be caught. Anduin also needed an excuse for the absence of his queen so it wouldn’t raise any flags. Wrathion was a fantastic liar and promised to provide those excuses.


And under no circumstances was Wrathion allowed to get her pregnant before Anduin. What a delightful scandal that would be, the whole of the Alliance awaiting the nine months only to discover upon birth that it was a half-ling, a dragon half-ling of all things. Wrathion said he would know if the baby was dragonkin, but promised nonetheless too assure the kings line before his own.

Besides, Wrathion wouldn’t allow the humans too know of her pregnancy, he could easily help hide it and birth the child at his temple. But they would figure this all out later.


For now, Wrathion was content to have his new mate in his lap, holding his hands. Anduin looked pleased as well. Wrathion had never dreamed of this, humans were so jealous, so unlike dragons. People wondered how Alextrasza had two mates that never fought or hated one another, but it was easy because they loved each other. In different ways, but still loved. It was so easy to dragons. If you loved another, you courted them and their mates, if they had any.

Wrathion knew many dragons with many mates, the most he ever knew of was a green drake with five chosen. Usually it was men attached to women, but this one had two other women that also mated with the three males. It was quite the circle, but it worked.

This would easily work too. Anduin was awful at lying or pretending and Wrathion knew when he was doing either. The king only looked fondly at his wife as he held her other hand. Yes this would work perfectly.

 

Notes:

EDITED Dec 31, 2107

Chapter 48: Illidan dabbles 7

Summary:

Illidan Stormrage/original female character

Someone’s gotta stop me.

Illidan is actually everything

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Something had changed during Asch's pregnancy and the birth of their child. Now Illidan wasn't opposed to this, watching Asch embrace motherhood was intoxicating and quite amusing. It begin with her snapping impatience, although that was a given because she and Ilidan had a combined five hours of sleep this week thus far.

Edan finally caught up and now was having difficulty sleeping without being close too his parents. Imprinting had two stages, the first was relating and becoming familiar. It was critical for babies to know who their parents were, know safety.

The next was independence, and Edan was having a hard time separating from them, especially his father. Illidan had spent too much time letting Edan sleep against his neck and now he couldn't sleep at all unless he was under his fathers chin.


Asch was deflating a little however, she was having what Illidan's female illidari call "the baby fat issue" this he didn't understand at all, but he knew when he saw it. She would be uncomfortable in anything she wore and feel unflattering. Illidan was confused by it, she had lost all the baby weight but she was still upset.

Asch was moody with everyone she met now, hardly giving them the time of day, this part Illidan found amusing.


"Shh," Asch softly pleads, bouncing the little elf "daddies busy-" Edan whines, crying despite the attention. Illidan could hear it, was pained by it, but could not indulge Edan.

"Little one, no no" Asch tries, sighing. They were both exhausted, Illidan more so. His nerves were fraying and he twitches at the bone shattering wail. "By Elune!" Illidan hisses, giving up and pushing away from the reports. Asch cringes, pulling Edan under her jaw, even as he snivels.

"I'm sorry-" Illidan waves her apology off, grabbing Edan, instantly he quiets, content now that he has what he wants. "You are a little thorn aren't you?" Edan babbles happily, tugging at Illidan's hair. Illidan glares thinly at his son, Asch smiles tiredly. "Go to bed. One of us should-" she protests, but he isn't having it. Illidan makes her lay down and only two minutes after she's out.

Illidan sits back in his chair, Edan is awake against his collarbone, drooling lightly on his fathers skin. Illidan ignores that, trying his best to return to the reports.

"You are going to be just like your mother," he sighs, idly scratching Edan's hair. That wasn't necessarily a bad thing, but he wouldn't command the respect and confidence Illidan possessed. Then again, looking at his tainted eyes, he had enough of Illidan in him.

There was a sharp knock that startled Edan into crying and Illidan into snarling. The rumble of his chest made his son calm, which amused Illidan for a split second before he swung open his door, shuttering the hinges. "What?" He barks. The Draenei before him was shaken a bit by the outburst, but plays it off quickly. "Your brother is here. He said he wished to see you."

Illidan had had enough of interruptions, even though he and Malfurion were getting along it was annoying he had to deal with this. Illidan takes no measure to step lightly, holding Edan in his palm as he moved to where the Draenei told him Mal was.

His brother looked more out of place then he did once Illidan found where he was. "Ah, brother- you look exhausted." Illidan spared him the obvious and grunts, "you wanted me?" Illidan hated small talk.

"Yes I did- he's gotten bigger." Illidan glances down, Edan was curiously looking between the two, looking with awe at Mal. "Hello little one," his brother coos, it makes Edan giggle and paw the air in front of him, Illidan knows what it means and prompts his brother to take him.

Malfurion always loved babies, most of elven people did, them being so rare. Even Blood elves get excited about little ones. "I wanted to see if I could be of any use... Tyrande and I are... at odds in the moment and I believe it best to give her space." Illidan feels a little bad about that, since it was likely all because of Edan and the fight that ensued.
"I'm sure you could be. The Prophet may have ideas for you. I'm... sorry to hear about you and Tyrande." Mal shakes his head, softly petting Edan's back, idly looking around the haul of the ship.

"It's no trouble, she needs time to think. What I am worried about is you. You and Asch must be exhausted. I told you this would happen." There was playfulness in his voice, a teasing sort that Illidan gives a smile too. "He's having trouble sleeping alone. Asch is resting now but... yes you are right. We are both exhausted," Mal hums, swaying side to side.

"You know... I have heard a tale about human twins," Illidan's brow furrows, his head tilted in question. "The eldest had a daughter and his wife and himself were run ragged, falling over themselves. The younger twin had taken the baby and the child could not tell the difference between the eldest and youngest. This allowed the parents some peace, for a time."


Illidan's curious frown turned into a wide smirk, "you could've just asked."

"May I babysit?" Cheeky Druid.

Illidan could see the story had merit however, Edan was sound asleep against his brothers beard. "Yes. You may babysit. Thank you." It was a weight off his mind, Mal smiles. "How long has it been since you slept properly?" Between the legion and the baby..? "When was the Gul'dan incident?" Mal snorts at his poor attempt at humor. "And been intimate?" Now that was treading into some very deep waters. Illidan glares.

"Not since I saw what was inside of her." This was months ago. Mal looks upset for him, "his aura is-" "demonic yes." Mal peers at Edan, not phased by the news, "even when she was pregnant? You didn't?" Illidan shakes his head, Mal looks fully at him, not amused "I understand now- but mating is healthy. You should know best of all. We form connections this way... unless you...?" Illidan quickly shakes his head, "that has not changed. I still can." Mating in elven culture was how too create a bond, a tie to one another. Illidan had been neglecting this. Not on purpose, when she was pregnant he was terrified for most of it and now they had no time for it.


"Well," Mal says with determination, "I believe it's time you go fix that." His brother didn't allow for a rebuttal, he told Illidan he would be two rooms over and that Edan was completely safe. Illidan didn't doubt his son was cared for, but how he was going to explain this to his wife was a mystery.


Illidan watches her sleep, the slow rise of her chest and how she sighs and turns over into his side of the bed. He didn't have the heart to try and squeeze into the bed, fear of waking her, so he slumped in the chair and awoke only moments ago. Demons thankfully did not need a much sleep.

"Mhm..." Asch stirs awake and Illidan jumps at the opportunity, roving over her and kissing her cheek and neck eagerly.
"Illidan..?" Asch catches her bearings and Illidan answers before she asks. "Edan is with my brother two doors down- he wants us to have some time to ourselves," Asch wipes her eyes with a yawn, smiling.

It only took moments to get her naked and interested. The soft pad of his thumb strokes between her wet lips, she bucks into his palm, moaning softly. There was a certain vulnerability when it came to being mated for thousands of years, but even this was new. Asch had never touched anything demonic on him overlong, she wasn't disgusted by any of it of course, but didn't bother to explore either.

Now she had a particular fascination with the base of his wings, right where the bones fused to his back. Illidan purrs at the attention, flexing his wings out because it felt very nice. "Ohh..." Asch arcs into his chest, hands laying flat next to the base of his wings, attempting to push him closer. Illidan nips her throat careful of hitting her with his horns, then she grabs one.

Asch had done this a few times, mostly for balance, this time she anchors his head down, lovingly petting the hard shell. "What's gotten you so affectionate?" He teases, Asch was always affectionate, but now it seemed much more, like she was trying to understand something about him. Illidan sated her curious touches before, she was honest and loving and never hurt any sensitive parts with rough jabs or callous treatment. Asch runs her hand down the loop of his horn, even touches the jagged spikes at the base. Illidan makes her jerk from his fingers, liking how she shivered and lost her purpose.

"I... I like all of you," she says, undoing his ponytail, Illidan's brow furrows at her answer, "I w-want you to know t-that..." Illidan slows his fingers against her, struck by her honesty "I know that, little elf-" "no," she drags out, whining low as he rubs her clit "I like it so... so much-" Illidan feels the little fingers of her other hand distractedly rubbing the base of his wing. It makes him shiver and fault his movements. Illidan felt very loved, motherhood has made her very affectionate. "I-I don't want you... too- too think I won't love our baby-" she gasps, twitching into his palm "if... if he becomes like thi-this... I love it so much, I... I love you so much." Illidan fell in love all over again. Asch loved a demon, a demon who extended his taint to her child. She was the mother of his child and she thought it was a blessing.

"Gods above," he was breathless, amazed "I don't deserve you." Asch pulls him into another heated kiss, melting against him as he sinks between her legs.

They took their time, mapping out and marking each other's flesh like they weren't accustomed too it, like they were excited virgin's just wanting to feel. "Love you-" Illidan couldn't stop saying it, Asch was panting in his ear, struggling to whisper it back. "Love... you-" they both whine as he sinks back in, relishing the feeling. Asch kisses above his burnt eye sockets and Illidan falters again, his chest hurts like it was about to burst.

Asch nips his ear, biting the soft tissue, "harder- please," her voice was beautiful and raspy, wrecked. Illidan cants his hips, biting into her flesh with greedy purpose. The one thing that hadn't changed was her enjoyment in being bitten.

 

"You're going to get me pregnant again," Asch says against his chest, laying sprawled out on the bed. "Will I?" He muses, teasing her. "Don't sound so smug about that." Male posturing was exhausting. Asch didn't even want to imagine how he would be if she got pregnant again. Illidan just laughs at her pouting, rubbing her back. "I should go feed Edan," Asch wretches up, patting the leathery wing as she crawls over him.


Asch and Illidan found Mal leaning over their baby on the plush bed, exciting him into fidgeting and giggling very loudly. Malfurion looked enchanted, waggling his pointer and cooing. "He's been good then?" Mal jumps at his brothers voice, "ah! Illidan- yes he has. I was trying to tire him out. He's quite rambunctious." Asch laughs, picking up the baby from his spot.


"I'll be back- yes we will!" Illidan chuckles at her high pitched voice, it makes Edan squeal. "I'm glad too see he isn't being troublesome." Mal looks very happy, content. "No of course not, he's a delight. I can see what's been keeping you awake-"


A bloodcurdling scream erupts from the other room, "Asch!" Malfurion and Illidan. Edan began screaming in agony, Asch was staring in horror, "Illidan-! Somethings wrong!" Illidan slides on his knees as he got down on the floor, Edan was shrieking like a banshee, Asch had him turned on his side. Illidan watches the skin raise and rip off his shoulder blades, bones tearing out.

Mucus and green blood splattered the floor, flung in every direction as the bones fanned out. They were wings. Two little nubs no bigger then Illidan's finger, along with three muscle-covered joints. "Heal it!" Mal shouts in a hurry, raising his hands. Illidan pulls Edan off the floor and into the air, Asch raised her hands, "focus Asch!" Her whole being was shaking, her fingers vibrating in the air, the greenish healing spell, leaves and flakes of life fluttered around the air.

Before his eyes Illidan witnessed the skin form around the wounds of his wings. Over the joints and even the leather of the wing formed. Edan was still wailing, looking absolutely miserable, but now it seemed to be over. They were tiny and they even twitch when Malfurion caressed the soft maroon leather.

"My moon! My precious little star-" Asch grabs Edan, burying him in her chest as she curled around him. Asch was crying against his hair, worrying her fingers into his soft flesh. Edan was sobbing quietly, looking upset rather than in pain. "Elune above! Thank the goddess he's alright," Mal heaves, sitting on the floor along with them.

Illidan is still high on adrenaline, panting though clinched teeth.

 

His was breathing heavy still, hours after the incident had occurred. Edan was now fine, sleeping against his mothers chest while she slept on his. Illidan pulled at the tiny wing, watching it unfold like his own. Edan did not wake, but made little noises and flexed the wing, tucking it back into his body when Illidan allowed it free. It unsettled him and he flapped his own, it jostled them and Asch huffs awake, groaning lightly.

“Sleep Illidan,” she moans annoyed, “you are no good too anyone without it.”


Illidan heaves a heavy sigh, rocking the two with his breath, “I cannot.” He grumbles, poking at the wing again. Asch bats his hand, easing upward with Edan. “Tell me then, what’s wrong.” Asch yawns, pulling the blankets off them. Illidan lays there simply watching as she arranged herself to sit up against the wall, legs hanging off his knee. Edan is in her weighted arms, he frowns.


“Do you believe me evil?” It was a heavy question, but she answered it easily enough, “no, I do not. Why do you ask this?” She rubs the sleep from her eyes, rubbing her pointer finger under her bottom eyelid. “Some think I still am,” it doesn’t bother him, Tyrande thought him a menace, a tyrant of evil and gain. “Why so?” She ponders, “because you destroyed the Narru? It was trying to force its magic upon you.” Illidan shakes his head, worrying his lip.

“What has made you love me?” He wonders, angry with himself. Asch frowns, “you know why. What has gotten into you?” Illidan snaps up, a fowl look upon his face.

Tell me,” he demands, Asch is startled by his outburst, “why do you love a demon so? Birth my child?” It didn't make sense too him.

“Do you really not remember how we were?” He remembers being standoffish and disinterested because he was clouded by Tyrande. “We made love in the forest, the night before you disappeared. You said my hair looked as though it had lily flowers in it, don’t you remember the days we would stay up passed dawn and laugh?” There was not much time between his turning and dying. He had heard or seen nothing of her during the time of the temple, the last he remembers is that night and then nothing.

The next she came in his life was just as he was broken from the crystal. Now all this.

Asch touches his thigh, gaining his attention, “you aren’t really concerned about all that, so what’s wrong, really Illidan?” No he was not, he will never understand why someone such as she would love the likes of him, a demon, a betrayer. But she does, did and will forever now as they continue their future together.

“Edan,” he sighs, looking at the soft rise and fall of his sons back as he sleeps peacefully, “What I’ve done too him. How can you not think me evil, still love me? After what I’ve done to your child...”

Asch looks at him softer, annoyance forgotten, “you’ve done nothing too him Illidan. Look,” she holds him, turning his little body so it was pressed to her skin, her smiling face nuzzling into his chubby body with all the love in the world. “Look at my perfect little baby,” She coos, kissing his baby cheeks. Edan was sleeping still, but wiggles at the attention, “my little boy, how couldn’t I love you? Look at him Illidan.” Illidan does, watches how his mother cradles him, nuzzles him and lets flowers fall on his exposed belly.

“Don’t be upset,” She sounds so sad, “he’s so perfect, you're perfect.” The love Illidan felt outweighed his doubts. Illidan felt responsible for today, felt wretched he caused his baby pain. Asch clambers into his lap, kissing his lips before he can react, “my perfect family,” she coos, “yes...” he finally agrees.


Asch was delighted, but then looked rather serious, “promise me you’ll never say such things again, not ever.” Illidan smooths down her hair, pulling some flowers as he goes, “I promise. I love you little elf.”

“I love you too.” Utterly, undeniably perfect.


“You know,” she says playfully, “I remember saying I would love our baby no matter if he looked like you,” she kisses him again, “don’t you remember?” Illidan smirks, leaning forward like a predator, “I could do with a reminder.”

Notes:

EDITED
Nov 22, 2017

Chapter 49: Elowinn dabbles 1

Summary:

Original male Draenei/original female Draenei
Pronounced
Doh-bra
Ello-win

This is for the wonderful Elowinn!! It was a birthday gift that I spent too long on, I hope you love it and I love you!!!

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

A kiss pressed to her forehead, a hand in her soft fluffed hair. "Mhm?" She grumbles, wiggling in her chair. The wood stabbed her back, she hissed from being sore.

A chuckle made her open her shining eyes, "Elo," he teases, chuckling warmly. "Dobera..." the name fell off her lips, "Dooobera!" She rolled his name, enjoying the sound. Dobera liked it too, laughing as he crosses his arms.

The paladin hall was bustling today, but the two were sitting undisturbed by a table. Dobera's thick leg was stretched out on the surface, his tail looping on the length of it, his massive arms crossed, grinning down at her with fulfilled amusement and an all to knowing look.

"Stiff, no?" He was making fun of her, Elowinn eases up, with great effort. The chair creaked with her movements, enticing an aching mewl from the back of her throat.


Dobera snorts through his nose, "this is why you don't sleep in chairs, Elo." She glares thinly at him, ruffled by his good mood. "Hush! Do not mock me when you sleep in bushes and trees! You forget who pulls the twigs and sap from your hair!" Dobera just laughs, not at all embarrassed by this.

"I don't forget, I am forever grateful Elo," he leans again, this time she pushes up, meeting his delightful smile as it forms into a kiss. His arms unfurl and his callused fingers dance across her jaw as they kiss sweetly. Elowinn's tail curls and her finger clinch the surface of the table, his tail bats at her nails until she grabs on to it.

Dobera's tail wiggles, it was much like the humans pet dog, Elowinn often watched the thick appendage wiggle and jolt when he was angry or stressed. Now it seemed silly and made her laugh, ruining the kiss as she parts from him. Slowing squeezing the dark blue tail, giggling as it acted back, jiggling between her enclosed fist.

"Like a pup," she says, laughing as his face soured a little, "it is sweet!" She tries but the damage is done, Dobera begins to pout, Elowinn giggles before kissing his cheek until she felt his smile.

"How late is it?" She says against his cheek, leaning into his body now rather then sitting. Dobera curls his arm around her middle, pulling her flush to his side. He gives her an amused look, "early. Three in the morning," Elowinn grows stiff, groaning softly against his shoulder, "which is why you are up," he nods, "which is why I'm up."

Dobera made rounds at night, directing and executing duties fit for a commanding officer. He must have been checking the perimeter, never trusting anyone to do it themselves. "Are you still needed?" Her fingers play with the nape of his neck, petting the back of his high fox tail, watching how her pale fingers almost blended with his snowy white hair.

"Another hour, than no. were you waiting for me?" Elowinn colors, of course she was. Dobera smiles, humming softly. "I'm sorry to keep you waiting," Elowinn shakes her head, "duty first darling." Dobera sighs, a deep rumble, nodding slowly. "Yes, I know."

"What is left?" She wonders, Dobera doesn't leave her guessing for long, "overseeing night changes and one more check around the grounds. I found a legion spy the other week. Can't be too careful-" Dobera's brow furrows in agitation, "it was in the grounds, no one noticed it! The on duty soldiers were slacking." Elowinn smiles, exasperated as she was, it was sweet of him to be such a hero about things. Even little things like this.

Righteous protector indeed, a shining example that made all the other paladins inadequate. "Don't be so harsh, it was righted in the end," Dobera exhales, "by me! I cannot trust anyone!" Elowinn coos softly, hugging his arm, "not everyone is Highlord, Highlord." She mocks, nuzzling her nose into his cheek. Dobera's ear twinges and she kisses it, laughing gently.

Elowinn pulls at his pauldron, whining. Dobera eyes her curiously, Elowinn pouts, “I hate your armor.” Dobera looks playfully offended, “you said I looked distinguished!” Elowinn’s pout forms into a seductive smile, pulling his arm closer, despite his plate armor coolness. “I miss your warmth...” this sparks knowing interest in his eyes. “Oh...”


“Oh?” She giggles back, kissing his cheek again. Dobera rumbles a purr, pulling her closer and pinching her hip with his wondering hand, “is my mate cold?” Elowinn shivers at his tone of voice, jumping when his teeth nipped at her exposed ear. “Dobera!” She yips, “someone could see!” He only chuckles, “can they? What will they see?” Her face colors as she leans away, glaring at him.

“Alright, I am sorry,” he wasn’t. It was clear on his face that he wasn’t one bit. “Wait for me than,” he tells her, getting up and leaving her embrace, “I will be but an hour.”

Elowinn feels pain erupt in her breast, but his quick hand pulls her pouting lips into a heated kiss, “I will warm you soon darling.”


Dobera pulled himself away, not daring to look back at his beautiful mates wide seeking eyes, the boarder of the chapel was long and he let his mind wonder with only the cold wind as his company.

It had been years, the longest ones he has ever had in his life. Dobera was by no means a young man, but he was not so ancient yet. To Velen he was a young man, a mere rambunctious and virile boy. To humans he was an other worldly elder, an old relic from a long forgotten husk. He commanded respect from humans and paladins when they saw him and sized his stature. Dobera was very large, a bull even compared to other Draenei. His knowledge of the holy arts far surpassed that of any mortal. They made him into a leader, the light in their darkening world.


Maybe it was because he had too much knowledge of the legion, maybe because they feared him, his lumbering loud and huge body did make him something to fear. Dobera was by no means quiet or sneaky, he had no need to be.

Dobera halted his charger, making it stop on the hill. His gaze fell to the dead of night, wondering to himself if he considered this more of a home now then he did Argus.

Elowinn and he had come from the broken planet, lived there and trained together. Many looked at her as a great beauty, a mysterious and almost unapproachable goddess. She was kind and gentle to those that were pensive of her, changing their minds about their people.

The inhabitants were very apprehensive of Draenei, they saw the legion warlocks and dread lords in Dobera’s people. They once were all the same, Eredar. Dobera was once a proud Eredar, his people a whole until the separation.

Dobera loved his people, all his people. Even those who were forced under the legions thumb. It brought him no pleasure fighting and killing his once brothers and sisters. It hurt that people of Azeroth looked at him with animosity and fear. Hiding his anger was no easy task when he was looked at as an enemy.


Dobera heaves a sigh, squinting now before commanding his horse into a trot, his watch ended. The guards changed and all twelve said, “Highlord!” In a loud, ear shattering manner that made Dobera cringe a smile. Those men respected him greatly, so he tried his best to acknowledge each one before he left.


In the same manner, much quieter now the sentinels nodded to him, muttering “Highlord,” instead of screaming it. Dobera inclines his head to each, being equally respectful. Apparently the only other to do so was Tirion Fordring, his predecessor.

Dobera saw no sigh of Elowinn as he got to the inner sanctum of lights chapel. He thought nothing of it and ascended the stairs to their private room. Dobera dumped his shield and mace in his office before clambering too their rooms.

A broad smile captured his lips when he saw Elowinn sprawled on their bed asleep. She looked as though she fell asleep as soon as her head hit the soft pillows. Dobera clicked his armor off, pulling the hidden buckles and dropping them onto the side table.


Without making a sound he nestled under the covers, pulling Elowinn to him until she was sighing into his warm chest. Dobera closes his eyes, head pressed into the pillow beneath him. “Mhm-“ Elowinn grunts, wiggling slightly. “Dobe-?” She cracks her eyes open, “yes darling?” She seems calmed by his voice and melts back into place, content. “Safe?” She mutters, nuzzling his neck. Dobera lifts his head, grabbing his hair out of her face before it tickles, “yes. Safe.” It wasn’t long before she felt back into a listless sleep, Dobera easily fell along, also content.

Notes:

EDITED
Aug 1/08

Chapter 50: Rommath dabbles 1

Summary:

Rommath/original female character

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

The men were virile and the women were hard to impregnate. It made a lethal combination in Blood elven society.

Like all peoples it drove them, to breed and to continue a line of pure blood that would only hold the pedigrees of the parents. Lor’themar Theron had a plan in place for his people, they needed to repopulate. It meant all citizens, all royal blood. Even the lesser, dirtier people and there were. Despite being proud Sin’dorei some were vile and shameful.

Rommath looked around him and found contempt wherever his gaze landed. Parties and celebrations, sex in the streets. Lor’themar was amused by it all. Like the festival of love all over again. It’s what was needed, Rommath knew. It didn’t dampen the sick feeling in his stomach however.

“You need to find a woman,” Halduron muses, looking over the fairer sex with a wink and smirk. Some girls giggled, brightly coloring at the attention. Most were staring, most were interested.

Animals, Rommath schools his disgust. They were all acting like animals, waiting to match up and breed.

The men around them were trying to be impressive, look more impressive than Lor’themar Theron or Halduron Brightwing. The two blondes beside him were the most well bred, the most powerful and they were still single.

Rommath was not golden, not a ranger-general, certainly not regent lord, none of the girls were giving him smiles. He wasn’t interested, not in them or their sexual interests. Rommath hardly believed himself very interesting to look at, his hair was inky black, his arms weren’t as big as Lor’themar’s, his legs couldn’t carry him as far as Halduron’s might.

Still a small, scared voice rose from behind the three of them, “H-hello-“ to say they were shocked was an understatement, the girls giggled and preened yes, but didn’t approach.

Lor’themar and Halduron craned their heads to look behind them, Rommath turns only slightly. Halduron was the first to spin around, all too eager to say hello. The girl before them was hardly magnificent, her hair was rather long, reaching down to the small of her back. The girls cheeks were stained red and her face was pretty. Silvery blonde. Of course Halduron was interested.

“Hello my lady!” He was loud and boisterous, yanking her delicate hand and kissing it before bowing low. “My lady,” Lor’themar adds, far more calm and dignified. Rommath simply inclines his head. “What can I do for such a beautiful lady?” The girl was blinking her beautiful eyes, nervously wringing her fingers. “I... I heard about- about the Nighthold-“ it was quick to dawn on Halduron just what she wanted and gets a devious sort of look about him.

“Oh,” He croons, “Rommath,” He turns on his heel to the Grand Magister, brows drawn in amusement, “she wants to talk to you,” Rommath flinches in confusion, finally looking at the girl properly. The blush reaches her neck and she’s looking at her feet.

Rommath knew his breeding, wouldn’t refuse a lady. He bows lightly, still confused, but speaks in a clipped tone, “yes?” Halduron scowls lightly at him, but he ignores it, wanting this over quickly. “Is it true? About the magic?” She says quickly, scared. Rommath frowns, but she cannot see it, “yes,” he saying in his clipped tone again.

This excites her apparently, a little of her face unfolding into something more then nervous bashfulness. “Are they letting people through? To see it?” Rommath’s brow furrows deeply, “Of course not.” The excitement dropped from her face.

“But Rommath would be delighted to take you through, won’t you Rom?” Halduron quickly interjects. “It isn’t safe for civilian’s!” Rommath hisses, watching as the girls ears droop slightly. “But the Grand Magister would keep you safe, won’t you Rommath?” Lor’themar smirks lightly, amused at the annoyed look he was given. “Such a beautiful lady should be protected, don’t you agree?” Anything Rommath said now would unwillingly force him into agreement too all this.


His mouth is in a deep set frown as he speaks through clinched teeth, “Yes of course.”

Halduron was looking all too pleased with himself when they were finally alone in the spire. Rommath however was none the sort, “I cannot believe you have forced me into this- this foolishness!” He was appalled, furious. Halduron pouts boyishly, Lor’themar raises an elegant brow “What? The girl? What’s wrong? Just take her through the hold, what’s the problem?” He was a fool, Rommath always knew.

“It’s dangerous! Constructs and Magi still may be inside!” Lor’themar claps his shoulder “but you will be there, what could happen?” Halduron hums triumphantly, looking smug.

“What’s really bothering you? It’s not the Nighthold. Anything in there would be easy to dispatch- it’s the girl isn’t it? She’s beautiful and interested in magic for whatever reason, what’s wrong?” Rommath growls at him, angry at the questions, Lor’themar sighs lightly.

“Leave him be Hal, we should not have done this to you old friend, please forgive us.” Rommath grumbles, going back to his duties.

Lor’themar Theron had been many things, someone Rommath could talk too was not one of them, but here he was. Standing in the private chambers of his regent lord, as if it was usual. “I am unsure about this,” Lor’themar knew what he was meaning and listens, leaning back in his impressive chair, “what could this girl want out of the Nighthold-“ his serious upset was stunted by a snorting laugh from the regent lord.

Lor’themar schools himself, explaining his outburst, “she wants nothing from the Nighthold I assure you old friend. It is you she wants.” This puzzles the Grand Magister greatly, but he inquires still, “what could she want of me?” Rommath was proud, came from a proud family, but when surrounded by golden haired nobles who were far stronger then he... Rommath allowed himself to feel a little bit intimated. It was weak he knew, but true.

“It is the festival you know,” Lor’themar mocks with a smile, “How devious of her too look for a companion in you.” Rommath scowls at his playful tone. The festival... she wasn’t trying to court him was she?

“You have been no help at all!” Rommath huffs, walking away. The sound of his regent lords laughter vexed him.

 


Rommath was not expecting to find the girl eagerly awaiting him where he said to meet. She was nervously wringing her hands again, her dress was very lavish. It was a deep red, almost as if she was intending to match his robes. The silver hair was half up in intricate twists, while some hung down freely against her open back. Hanging off her arms was a heavier looking shawl. Rommath approached with hesitation, clearing his throat to get her attention.

The girl snaps up, blinking frantically at him, “Oh! Grand Magister!” She curtsies, it was elegant, a sign of high upbringing. Rommath bows to her politely, “Are you ready?” he asks. The girl nods, than pauses, laughing lightly.

“I’ve been so rude, I haven’t told you my name!” No she hadn’t, Rommath waits, with a tilt of his head, she wrings her hands again. “It’s Asch Lightbleeder.” Rommath was surprised, “Your father is the High priest.” She nods happily, “Yes! I wish to follow in his footsteps one day,” Rommath grunts, waving his hand to open a portal.

He allows her to go first, then quickly gets behind her. The Nighthold was eerily quiet and flowing with magic still burning. The whole structure was supported by magic, the lights and the fixtures, all the doors and stairs. The Ley-power room was fascinating to witness, especially when everything was working properly. Now it was only bare essentials running through the hold, better that way.

For a moment he lets her wander, looking at the grand fountain as it still spurts water, Rommath wonders aloud, “if you wish to be a priest what has you interested in arcane magic?” She’s reaching on her tip toes to lean over and touch the cascading water, “Oh w-well I...” her face colors and Rommath shows his displeasure, brow scrunching into his eye line.

“You do,” She blurts, surprising herself. Rommath is thoroughly debased by her answer, Lor’themar couldn’t have actually been right could he?

“What I meant- what I mean is...” Asch cringes, her pretty face twisting. “Lady Liadrin said you’ve... you’ve become m-most interested in th-this place and I... didn’t know how else to a-approach you!” The girl before him had two confusing ways of speaking, stuttering mess or awkwardly fast. This was somehow both.

Rommath cranes his neck, staring at her “Is that so?” Is all he says, Asch nods frantically, looking ashamed.

“Let me show you the most intriguing parts then.” Her face lit up brighter than a fireball. Rommath lead her by his arm up to the Nightspire, where the dormant well of magic was still churning. Asch was bathed in the mesmerizing colors as she looked on, “Oh it’s beautiful!” She squeezes his arm to her chest. Rommath smiles lightly, “come there is more.”

Rommath took her to the high botanist’s gardens and picked her an arcane flower, “So long as there’s magic it shouldn’t wilt,” he tells her, tucking it into her hair. The lily looked too large to fit and dropped slightly, Asch gently touched the petals, pushing it further behind her ear before bending too pick another.

Asch plucks one from the bush they stood next to, gently rubbing her finger over the whitish blue petal before reaching up on her tip toes and feeding it behind his own ear. “I love flowers,” she says, making sure it was secure in his hair. Rommath peaks upward noticing the petal shake with her movements, “Father would always bring my mother and I a rose home if he was gone for long.” Rommath feels foolish with the lily in his hair, but she looks so happy he doesn’t remove it.

“That is sweet of him.” And it was, Rommath knew the high priest, he was famous for doting upon his six daughters, at least when he had six to do so. After the wars he lost four and the fifth left home. Leaving Asch as the only child to love. Rommath had never met his daughters before, most knew of them but it was beyond him to be interested.

Until now, he supposed.

Asch took his arm again and Rommath believed it was time to return.

Knowing her name now meant he could be a gentlemen and return her home, they walked gaining some wondering eyes, but Rommath was uninterested in it, rather contently listening to Asch and her questions, answering when she looked up at him.

“Is it hard to control magic?” Rommath shook his head, “For a time, then it becomes easy.” It was draining some days, but not without worth. “What do you prefer to use?”

“Fire,” He was amused at her wonderment, “Isn’t it the most dangerous one?!” She gasps, Rommath allowed himself to peacock only slightly. “It’s the only dangerous one.” They get to her estate just before sundown, Asch lets go and looks at him with twinkling eyes “Thank you for showing me such a magical place!” Rommath bows, “It was my pleasure.” When he rights himself they have a moment of silence before she again, reaches up on her toes, this time kissing his cheek.

It was hard to manage, but she did it. Pecking the soft flesh before smiling, wringing her hands again. Rommath feels his heart warm, pulling his collar down he allows himself to kiss her once, a chaste peck on the lips that has her dizzy when he parts.

“Goodnight my lady.”

“G-goodnight Grand Magister!”


Rommath feels like preening as he enters the spire, his companions turn to his footsteps and he smirks at them, but they don’t know that.

“Why do you have a flower in your hair?” Halduron always ruined everything.

 

 

Notes:

EDITED ON
February 26, 2019

Chapter 51: Edan dabbles 2

Summary:

Original demon hunter/Jarod Shadowsong

 

Thanks for suffering over 50 chapters.

Y’all hate me yet?

Chapter Text

Mother looked beautiful, her dress was light and airy, a black colour for father. If Edan was more childish he would be repulsed by how handsy his father had gotten, but it was more amusing then anything else. Even after all the years together and babies in between it was sweet too see father so smitten.


Fathers hands were low on his mothers hips as they swayed their hips together, grinding as the music playing became slow and deep. Illidan was grinning like a shark and mother was far to gone in the music to really pay attention to their inappropriate dancing. Others were doing the same, but it was the Stormrage family that was the interest. Khadgar and Modera were saying goodnight to guests at the entrance of the grand hall. Edan was bobbing along to the music, holding his sisters hand as she had her wild fun. Kair bounced baby Tadeas along to the music and he was giggling at the excitement.


“Your wings are moving again,” Kair huffs, Edan exhales, worried. They were beating with the music, having their own idea. “Mama says I won’t get wings, is that because I’m a girl, why did you get wings Edan?” Kair never asked him about his wings much, she only ever got annoyed when he hit her with them.

“I don’t know why I have them... why do you want them?” Kair shrugs, kissing Tadeas’ chubby cheek, “I don’t... daddy looks upset you have them, at least- ever since your horns grew... mama sounds worried too Tad hasn’t gotten his wings and mama said you got them after a few months.” Scariest time in her life, she told him.


Edan sighs, pulling his siblings closer, hugging them before pecking his sister on the forehead. “Do... do you think you’ll totally look like father?”

Edan snorts out a laugh, moving away “I hope everything but the hooves...”


Edan searches for Jarod, finding him with the couple of the night. “Sir Jarod!” He said that too excited, he cringes at himself, but the other elf perks, even his ears stiffen upward, “ah! Edan, a pleasure.” He bows lightly, smiling around his beard. “Thank you for inviting me, Khadgar, Modera.” The couple thank him and Jarod bids them a good evening before leading Edan away. “Those horns are coming in nicely,” they were, very unlike his father they were curling back over his head in an S shape, the points were sharp.

“Ah, thank you yes... hard too sleep with however,” Jarod laughs, smirking “I can only imagine. How is your mother?” Edan was touched he was asking, “she’s happy- well. Not with father... it seems I have another sibling on the way.” Mother had been throwing up the last four days, Edan heard it from his room and the cursing that followed it.

At the moment mother wasn’t upset with father, dancing by the outskirts of the floor, Jarod cranes his neck, looking over at the two, “is she? Congratulations than, must be nice to have so many siblings.” Jarod loved his sister, but it didn’t mean it wasn’t hard.

“Tadeas pulls at my wings, he’s still little. And crying doesn’t help either.” Jarod chuckles, taking the hand that lay lazily at the demons side. “Dance with me, tell me all.”

Edan spent the better part of the hour babbling on both his parents, his siblings and all that interested him. Jarod listened with an eager ear, pulling his along the floor in a beautiful dance. His parents were lost in their world, foreheads pressed against each other. Jarod smiles, losing their embrace.

Edan blinks his fel smouldering eyes, confused as Jarod tugs him along.

They pass guests and wind down hallways until Jarod sees no guests. It was oddly like cornering a fox, the wild look and the shaky disposition.
The threat of being devoured.

Jarod does anyway, pulling at his hips so he was close, forced too look up at him. “Have you ever been kissed?” A teasing note reaches his tone. The little elf swallows. Wetting his pretty lips, “I- no- I haven’t-“ Jarod angles down, capturing his lips quicker than he can say no. Edan doesn’t say no, doesn’t move away. In fact, he melts a little, arching into the embrace like Jarod was a second skin.

The wings on his back beat timidly, a flutter so light it was like a butterfly. Jarod backs them up, the clatter of his horns thus into the cobble be his them, it forces his head up, into Jarod’s mouth. A soft moan escapes him.

Than all to suddenly, Edan forces his head to the side, a hiss of pain erupting from his chest, the pointed fangs shiny. “Ah-“ his body jolts against Jarod’s for a moment he doesn’t know what to make of it, wondering what had caused him pain, but he sees the prickle of skin forming in odd shapes, a colour seeping through.

“It burns-“ He growls, clawing at his chest. Jarod pulls him to the floor, pulling open his jackets and shirt, the bare skin raises, a fel bloody colour of sickly green swirls along his chest, jagged and burning. Jarod watches in awe as markings, not so unlike Illidan’s own begin to fill out his chest and arms, dipping low on his hips and no doubt passed his legs.


Edan gasps out a pained moan, “Edan?” Jarod calls from far away. Edan blinks, focusing back into the concerned eyes, “Edan are you alright?” And flexes, his muscles are strained. “Yes... yes I think so?” Jarod lets a chuckle pass, relief floods him. “I have never gotten that reaction to a kiss before.”

Edan cranes his neck, looking over himself and the glow of the new markings, “Oh? They mustn’t have been very good than.”

Jarod tanks him up, watching as he fixes his clothes again. “What am I to tell your parents?” Edan makes the most terrified of looks, eyes bulging and jaw slack. “Gods,” he mutters, looking back at himself. “What am I too say?”

“What are you too say?” Jarod has never seen him jolt upright so fast. “F-father!” Illidan looks amused for his part, while his mother is confused. “Little moon?” She calls. Her son was bashful, giving a sheepish smile a he stressed his neck. “I’ve... seem to taken after father-“ Edan pulls his sleeve, making obvious his new markings. Asch gasps, pulling free of Illidan, rushing to her child and pulling him gently.

“Are you hurt? Does it hurt?” Edan shakes his head, tousling his soft hair, “no mother, it didn’t hurt.” A comforting lie, one his mother was happy to hear. “What were you doing?” Illidan asks with a tilt of his head. Jarod is to old too be caught like this. Far too old to be necking at a wedding.

“Edan is old enough for it not too be your concern my love.” Asch is swift to take his arm again, beginning her tugging, “we shall see you later little moon.”


“Yes mother!” Illidan isn’t amused and bites a few whispered words, but Asch only smiles wordlessly, tugging him out of view. Jarod huffs, Edan looks back at him. “Now I believe it is time for me to ask to see you again...”

Chapter 52: Illidan dabbles 8

Summary:

Illidan Stormrage/original female character

Pure fluff that Illidan deserves *cries*

Chapter Text

Asch was nursing Edan, laying under a pool of thick blankets as Illidan was working nearby.

After last night he seemed better, far happier. Asch was grateful he finally saw it her way. Her heart ached to see her baby in pain, but now he looked just like his father. Edan went back to being a happy baby, cooing and squealing as his mother wiped his mouth and gave him attention.

“Hello!” She says excitedly, “hello hello!” Edan babbles, waving his chubby arms, “can you say hello?” Edan squeaks, “bah!” He shouts, Illidan laughs loudly. Asch just coos, “such a good boy! Mommies good boy!” Edan gets so happy his wings start fluttering.


Edan fists flowers from her hair, pulling them out and marveling at them, Illidan watches in amusement as he puts one in his mouth. Asch laughs, kissing his cheek before plucking it from his lips. “Do you want daddy? Daddy? Do you wanna see daddy?” Edan can’t possibly understand her, but gets excited by her tone of voice. Illidan watches him squirm and squeal, Asch egging him on.

“Daddy! You want daddy!” Asch brings him over, Illidan chuckles throatily, nuzzling his broad pointed nose into Edan’s chin. “Hello little one,” Illidan takes him, letting him balance on his knee. “Whose that?” Asch says, tickling his belly, Edan wiggles, his laughter filing the space, “ada!” He tries to say, fisting the air in front of Illidan, Asch beams.

“Ada! Yes! That’s daddy!” Illidan’s heart clintches, a smile makes its way into his face, “mhm,” he grunts, pulling Edan up to his chest, his baby looks up at him with wonderment and confusion. Big wide eyes gaping at his father, Asch plays with his wings. “He’s being very good,” Illidan praises in a light voice, kissing his fluffed hair.

Asch buries her nose in his back, face hidden between his folded wings, “he is, he’s very good.” Edan still has the new baby smell to him, just like Asch has the scent of a new mother. It was overly intoxicating all at once. Edan smelt like fresh powder and petals while Asch smelt like Illidan and home. It was a lethal combination and Illidan was finding it hard to get work done, especially when all he wanted to do was listen to his baby’s laughter and his mates moans.

“Do you think he’ll be good later today?” Illidan frowns, shrugging. “Must you come? It could be dangerous-“ Asch snorts angrily at him, glaring from over Edan’s tiny shoulder “I am the Archdruid and you are lord of the illidari. I think it will be fine.”


Illidan had to admit it was rather amusing that Edan was against her breast in a wrap made of fluffed blankets. The baby was soundlessly asleep as she lumbered her overly large staff. It thumped harshly against the ground of Agrus.


Illidan watches her, his eyes over his shoulder as he fights off dreadstalkers and imps, while his wife and baby are combating an infernal. Her power was no illusion, Illidan could see that with the way she moved and stuck wraith bolts into the body of the crumbling rock. Druids were fast by their very nature and she was no exception. Quick as lightening he watched her run and slide under its fist. A boom of sound echoes around them as Asch gets to her feet, aiming sideways while cutting the infernal in two with her magic.

Asc arcs her massive staff, swinging it in front of her before slamming it into the dead ground, flowers erupt from her feet and a cool mist of green washes over her. Edan barely shifts as she stalks forward. Illidan finishes another few demons off before flicking his blades, the demon blood splatters across the black ground.

“We’ve finished clearing the campsite.” Khadgar heaves a sigh, lighting the cave with globes of light. It was a massive hole, a hidden gash with a mouth almost too small for Illidan to fit though. It was perfect for a base camp.

Asch extends her hand, willing a beacon to life, connecting the Vindiccar to the new site. As soon as it roars to life Draenei come through with supplies and preparation has already begun.

Khadgar turns, his staff thuds less obnoxiously “we have one more site to clear, its well hidden and across the waste.

As Khadgar said they made their way too the point, clearing the few imps that were hiding inside. This cave was very out of the way, smaller but still as useful. Khadgar hums as more Draenei feed through. “Illidan, Asch!” He calls them. “Which garrison would you wish to over see?” Another reason Illidan did not want Asch coming along.

“I will have this one,” Khadgar wanted them to oversee these points, manage them. Illidan was not happy with this idea, but knew it was necessary for their war on the legion. “I’ll have the other then.” He snaps, the mage isn’t interested in his mood and quickly nods, leaving to his own duties. Whatever those seemed too be.


“Asch,” Illidan says firmly, turning to her completely. Asch raises a brow, rolling her eyes. “Illidan I know what you’re going too say-“ “call me if you need help.” Asch flinches in surprise, “wait you’re-“ Illidan chuckles, shaking his head.

“Despite my displeasure I cannot deny you. Everyone must play a part.” Asch beams, getting up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek “you are a most wonderful husband,” Illidan laughs, than looks thoughtful. “But I am not your husband... shall we change that?”


Malfurion was the first to find out, because out of the three he knew best whether or not Illidan could actually do this. The elder Druid was pensive, saying as much.

“Marrying under the mother moon may be considered sacrilege and Tyrande... may annual it.” Mal appeared very thoughtfully upset, scratching his beard as he watched Edan pull at his mothers hair.

“She wouldn’t?!” Asch was appalled by this, brow crunched together, “so what then? If we cannot marry under the moons light then what can we do?” Illidan stares darkly at the floor, considering.

“We marry under mine.”

Warlocks and demon hunters were very much the same when it came to threads and pins. Finding a ritualist wasn’t hard, having him perform the ceremony was a simple task. Asch stood before Illidan in a dark dress made of silks and satins. Flowers ran down in a train. They were wilted at the ends, she was nervous. It was understandable, Illidan admitting it was more of a blood bond ritual then a marriage ceremony, but it was the only binding contract they could enter with Tyrande on the prowl.

A dagger made of sharp waves and a black hilt stood between them as the warlock uttered demonic words that Illidan translated too her. “I vow to be yours as you are mine.” Aschv licks her lips, “I vow to be yours as you are mine...”


Illidan plucked the dagger, slicing open his hand without a wince, Asch flinches watching the green blood pool out of the creases in his hand. “You do it please!” Asch thrusts her hand and closes her eyes, Illidan quirks a smile, quickly slicing her palm. “Ah!” She yanks her hand, making a fist.

“We must exchange blood.” Illidan lays his hand open, waiting as she places her own atop his. Their palms squelch together in a sick sound and the tinged blood weeps from the pressure. The warlock ties their hands together with twine and holds his own above their joined, uttering words Illidan does not repeat.

The spell creates runes along their skin, they run until they reach each knuckle of their fingers. “It will burn,” Illidan tells her, braving himself for it. It was a warm sizzle, like hot butter in a pan, and felt just as scalding. Asch squirms but tightens her hold so as not to ruin it. Rings form around their fingers, on Illidan’s was red like her blood and on Asch was green, like his.

The warlock pulls the twine away, bowing lightly, “it is done,” he finally says in English, “you have been joined.” Illidan curtly nods, thanking him quickly. Asch pulls his wrist, taking her other hand and healing the damage left by the knife. Illidan looks at the four rings around his finger. They were tattooed to his skin just like the ones upon his chest. They were glowing faintly, life magic flowing through them. It looked a little sickly on Asch, but she touched them with curious wonderment.

“I suppose this ceremony doesn’t involve a kiss does it?” The warlock snorts, rolling his eyes. Illidan smirks, “it can.”

He bends a little, letting her come into his arms for a full kiss. Malfurion claps, coming from his spot on the side, “unconventional, but lovely all the same.” The blood magic clearly had him uncomfortable, it had Asch as well. But she wanted to be married for a long time and Illidan wouldn’t deny her this.

Edan squeaks from his arms, Illidan plucks him, kissing the chubby face, “as I’ve said, I most wonderful husband.”

Chapter 53: Darion Mograine dabbles 1

Summary:

Darion Mograine/original female bloodelf

IM WEAK

 

This journey has been long and full of gross kinks.

Let it continue!

Chapter Text

Darion hadn't seen a proper woman in, what? Months? Maybe a year? He didn't know.

Icecrown had woman populating it, but they were all undead. It was quite the surprise when Arthas himself requested she stay alive and even more shocking, unharmed. An elf, pink and freezing. Her clothes were that of a noble lady, one from Silvermoon. They were meant for hot weather and light breezes, not at all for Northrend. What on earth was she doing up here? Looking as if she was snatched from a sunroom only an hour passed.

Darion watched, with small amusement and curiosity as she shook, teeth chattering. Breath clouds steamed the air in front of her face, making it just about the only thing warm around her. The pink skin was turning blue as she huddled in the steel cage. Darion huffs lightly, unharmed. His master said. Darion yanked a bear hide off the rack.

The elf was too busy trying to keep warm to notice him, Darion grunts noisily, "here." His voice made her flinch back in utter terror, first she looked at his mask, then the pelt in his fist. She was quick to grab it, Darion backs only a foot away, watching as she curled into a little ball, burying herself in the fur. Darion grunts again, walking off, before leaving he instructed someone to bring another pelt.

It was only two days later when he saw her again, this time in the company of his master. She still had the pelt and had another thrown over her shoulders like he requested. Her lips were still blue, it seemed the pelts did little. Arthas coos, a cruel sounding noise. "Elves are so little," he tells Darion, "they get so cold and are so fragile." Arthas pets the bars with the end of his fingers, the metals scrape together and make an awful sound, one that the little elf detests and attempts to cover her ears.

One thing Darion knew was that their ears were sensitive, to touch and sound. Koltira informed him of this when Darion assigned him to the armoury, where he would be of no use. Apparently it was true. They perked like a dogs, the tips were beat red from the cold and she even gave a small, destressed noise when Arthas did it again.

"What are you keeping her for?" Darion wasn't trying to sound rude or demanding, Arthas eyes him, debating whether to answer. He didn't have too, he could leave his plans all to himself, but instead he does speak. "I need an heir, such as all kings do." Darion looks back at the girl, crystal tears freeze on her cheeks. It actually stirs pity in his belly.


Out of the little he knew, elves were beautiful creatures, Koltira was proof of that, even as a man and dead Darion could see the beauty in his race. Their women however were a thing to behold. Koltira said not one was unsightly, they were all incredibly capturing, the one in the cage was no different. Gorgeous despite being frozen and practically naked. She was regal, Koltira said that was a natural state for his people. Darion believed him, the elf was so pompous.

Darion quickly realized that the people he thought the Lich King had was actually him. So instead of servants, he had Darion. Today he didn't see the elf, her cage was there in full view of everything but she wasn't in it and her pelts were hobbled in bunches on the floor.

Arthas must have gotten bored of her, or realized he didn't want a half elven child. Darion didn't dwell on it for long, he had reports to get from the office so he didn't stay long.

Darion had keys to the Kings apartments,
The office was between the den and bedchamers, in the middle of the rooms. the den was empty and the office was a mess, as usual. He was about to leave until he heard a faint mewl. Darion arched a brow and unlocked the bedchambers, interested in what found itself there.

To say he was shocked was an understatement. Arthas had actually kept her. Not only that, made good on his promise to use her as a broodmare. On the lavishly large bed, laid the elf, her hands were shackled taught to the bed frame and her knees were pressed together. Though it didn't help hide anything. An oozing puddled had formed around her raw pink cunt, tinged with blood. Darion stepped lightly though the door, moving toward the bed and the crying elf.

In one swift motion he carted the sheets over her body, scaring her into flinching harshly. Those wide, green eyes stare at him in shock and horror. Darion left without a word.

The next he saw of his master, he was in a good mood, so Darion asked, "why an elf, master? I thought you didn't like them." Arthas seemed to be in good enough humour to actually answer him. "Whatever is born inside of her, it will be living. Elves live a long time. If I used a human it would die at mere age fifty." Elves lived for centuries. "But can't you give it undeath?" Darion was immortal now, he wouldn't age or decay and he was human was well.

"Not when it's already dead," Darion was confused with his statement until he realized that the child when born would be both alive and dead. Arthas couldn't raise something that was already dead, and yet. Alive. Darion didn't ask anymore questions, figuring it would either annoy his master or he would only become more confused. In the days that followed Darion noticed his jobs were delegated toward the elf.

The worst part of it was coming in after Arthas finished with her. Maybe it was because Arthas was a sick man, or he wanted to dangle the naked girl in front of him, but every time Darion would hear or see the poor girl, she was naked and covered in leavings. She wouldn't look at him, but she knew he was there. Darion covered her with a blanket every time.

It was one of the only things that brought him close to her.


The worst thing happened when he was only grabbing reports and he heard a crash, bang and gasp. Darion went to the sound with vigour, surprised to see the elf, knees knocking and barely able to hold herself up without the help of the furniture. "Stop," he found himself hurriedly muttering, holding his arms out to reach her. The elf gasps and falls, Darion catches her by the waist, pulling her before she bashed her knees into the hard stone.

"I'm... I'm sorry!" Darion didn't realize she spoke common. It sounds nice on her tongue. "What are you doing?" The elf shivers, her naked body pressed into his cold armour, Darion's mouth flattens, "I... I just wanted a-another blanket." Darion grunts, glaring "fine." He realizes that helping her would only make her colder, but Darion picks her up, watching as her face turns. He quickly deposits her on the bed, finding the closet of blankets before dropping the neatly folded heavy pelt by her knees.

"T-thank you so much," she looks genuine about it, Darion grunts again, waving it off. Maybe he should find her clothes...


It turns out Arthas is delighted in his idea.


Darion wasn't at all impressed by what Arthas had put her in. It was worse then the cloth she came in. The poor elf was shivering at the foot of his throne, like a pet. Her skin was ashen and her lips and fingers were blue. There was a moment of silence before the Lich King gestured him forward and everyone else out. "I have been told you are being kind to my pet?" Darion swallows hard, nodding once in shame.

However, the King smiled under his helm, the shine of his teeth glinting in the icy light. "What do you think of her, Darion?" The sound of his name made Darion shrivel a little, but persist. "I think nothing, she is your pet-" "ah-ah," he tuts, "don't be boring Highlord, tell me."

Darion straightens, biting his bottom lip, deciding whether to lie or not. It would do him no good if Arthas found out, but the truth would either amuse or anger him. Darion swallows again, nervous. "She is... beautiful, like all elves." Arthas grins sharply, "but do you find her beautiful?"

"Yes...?" Terrified.

"Good." Intrigued.

"Why...?" Again, he was terrified, Arthas only grins, "pregnant women get in the way, someone needs to look after her. You've been doing just that, so take her and keep her. Once my heir is born you can do as you like."


Darion didn’t sleep much, but the girl slept for hours. He let her have his bed, watching the colour come back to her whole body. Darion kept it warm, making sure the fire was on at all times and giving her as many furs as she delighted in using. She started throwing up after a few days under his care, it was morning sickness he knew. She knew.

Worst of all, Arthas knew.


At first it was unnoticeable, the girl had gained better control of herself, now warm and not knocking at the knees, she would rush to his bathroom, covering her mouth. Darion was no longer alarmed by the suddenness of it and merely glances at her darting figure before he heard the harsh heaving. The wretched sound was sometimes accompanied by sobbing, something he found hard to ignore, but did.

Sometimes she would take a long time before leaving, but when she did it was a pitiful sight.

When the throwing up had stopped he could not remember, but he knew when she begun showing. The day was warming, snow melted in dribbles, all except ice crown was softening because of the overly warm sun. No sun reached here, it was solid as stone.

Darion had come back from his work and made the mistake of looking at her. The elf was stretched out, reaching for an old dusty tomb. That was when he saw the bump of her belly. The spawn of the Lich King. It looked like a half moon, a natural healthy looking protrusion. And yet. It was not.


Koltira had said at the beginning of all this that it was rare and intoxicating to see a pregnant elf, a reason he stayed far away. Bloodelves lived too long to care for children and reproduction like humans, so when one of his peoples women begin showing it was considered very beautiful.

Even Darion, a human, could feel the effects of it. His mortal instincts wished him to protect her, feed her. Touch her.

He quickly cast the idea from his head. She was not his to touch, nor would he if allowed. Some morality stuck deep within him and it felt wrong to force himself upon her. Still, his feelings festered. He wanted so badly to run his hand over the soft skin, feel the life inside, even though it wasn’t apart of him.

Darion still felt responsible.


Now it was altogether hard to ignore.

His work became second and he rather stare at the elf, siting lonely on his bed, furs and blankets pooled around her and the belly that would not be ignored. She could not see he was looking thanks to his helm, but it felt dirty, like he was peeping from outside a window.

She sighs delicately, putting her hands on the sides of her belly, rubbing it with a wounded expression. Darion bites his lip, inquiring before he could stop himself.

“What’s wrong?” That sounded very angry and rough, the elf flinches “it's- it’s nothing my lord!” Her eyes shoot downward, as if she wasn’t too look upon a king, but Darion was no king. “It is,” he dismisses, turning in his wooden chair. It makes a screech in protest, “What is it?” Swallowing she hikes her shoulders, scared. “Kicking my lord... just kicking.”


Darion swallows a thick lump, “Let me feel,” once more he cannot stop himself from advancing, the elf doesn’t know what to do and stays frozen until he reaches her. “Here...” she mutters, reaching for his wrist. Darion removes his gauntlet, letting it drop by her leg before he lets her take his hand.

Slowly she places it against the left side of her belly, holding is flush to her skin. Darion waits with a furrowed brow before he feels the sudden lurch. The elf moans a little in pain, the kicking as steady as a drum beat.

“Not just kicking then,” he surmises, awkwardly petting the flesh. Remarkably the kicks slow and begin to press against the motion. The elf sighs in relief, slumping against the headboard. “Thank you my lord.”


Darion removes his hand, in awe of what he just did, “I did nothing...” he trails off, realizing he didn’t know her name. “What do I call you?” There was a timid smile, “Asch, my lord.”


“Than you may call me Darion.”


“How is the elf?” Arthas was becoming more and more unbearable about the updates Darion was to give, wanting to know the comings and goings of his breeding stock and everything she did.

Darion answers simply, with a shrug “she sleeps and reads. Eating what she craves.” Arthas has a sick smile about him, “and you see to these... cravings?” The implication has him reeling silently, outwardly he shows nothing.

“Yes my lord?” Arthas’ head tilts in the manner quite inhuman-like before he responds, “all of them?”


Darion is baffled.


“What... what do you mean?” Arthas has his grin again, the icy teeth exposed and frothing with fog, “I’ve told you too see to her needs. All of her needs. I mean what I mean, Highlord.” Darion doesn’t know what to say, but manages something anyway, “you can’t mean... she is not mine to do such with, I never supposed I could-“ his king tuts, pretending disappointment.


“You have grown fond of her- ah ah hush. I know you have. My heir grows inside her womb, I do not care what you do with her. Once her purpose is fulfilled you may keep her, as I’ve said.” Arthas grins at the utter silence from Darion, “warm your cock, Highlord.”


Those words slithered in his brain as he walked away, a feeling of dead weight dragging behind him with each step. Permission granted. Permission earned. Darion wondered what she was doing now, was she asleep? Was she reading? Darion hurried to his quarters.

Upon his bed she sat, rubbing the inflated flesh. Asch looks to him with relief. At some point she became very comfortable with him, asking for things he would not deny. Like quieting the raging kicks she felt. Darion went without question, let her move his bare hand in place and pets the spot until they once again slowed and came to a stop. “Thank you Darion,” it took a long time for her to use his name, but now he never wanted to hear anything else.

Usually Darion would remove himself, but this time he refused, Asch eyes him in question and he speaks, only a little nervous.


“You have all you crave?” It came out as a fair question, no dirty interest in his voice. Asch blinks at him, face warming and shining. “Yes...” she tell him indefinitely, looking rather content. Darion raises a brow she cannot see “Truly? Or is there something else you desire?” This time he makes no secret of his meaning, letting his wondering hand touch lower on her belly.

Confusion overtakes the pretty face before the sudden shock of realizing, along with the most beautiful flush. Darion now wishes to lick it off. “D-Darion I... I have all I desire!” Her voice is breathy, Darion knows the sound of a breathless woman well and grins,
“yes you have your books and blankets,” he teases, watching her colour anew.

“But you also have me,” the statement makes her flinch, a baffled look upon her face, Darion looks down to where his hand is idly petting, “you... you won’t hurt me?” The emotion in her voice is enough too pain him. Darion shakes his head adamantly, “not- not even if I... I say no?” Few tales were told along with what Darion saw. He heard the whispers from other deathknights, how she screamed and wailed. Begged for an end. Arthas was cruel beyond measure and probably enjoyed her shrieks of desperation.

“Especially if you say no,” he promises, growing fidgety. Relief flooded her face, a weight gone from her, “may... may I remove this?” A soft hand toys with his helm, touching the freezing steel. Darion watches a shiver overtake her, “I will,” he says before long. Darion regretfully moves his hand, but pulls the frozen metal from his face, revealing his long forgotten features.

Darion was by no means unsightly, in fact he was quite handsome. Of course his skin was overly pale and his eyes were like glowing ice, but he was handsome. Darion kept his hair as it used to be, chin length and feathery, but it was a pale white, much like the Lich King’s own. But where his was thin and straw like, Darion’s was soft and full. Keeping the body it once had when blonde.

Darion was given undeath at the young age of nineteen, he had fully grown but not quite. His height was never reached, but he was still fair sized, but he was still stuck between young man and adult. His beard would never grow but he looked too young without stubble, he would never be big or bulky, but not thin or lanky like some boys his age.

The woman before him must thought of him as a pup, it never occurred to him just how old she was, elves lived for a long time, much longer then he ever would have as a man.

“B-be nice!” She squeaks suddenly, “my hips hurt.” Darion snorts at the overly cute words, but is delighted all the same. “I will be nice,” His voice makes the words echo, closing the space between them. For now the swollen bump does not hinder his seeking lips and Darion presses a fine kiss upon her, exciting her interests further. How he was to go about it... well. That was another matter entirely. Hardly in his life did he have time for sex, now in undeath he could not stomach it with any woman not living. Until the elf came, there were none living.

Asch weeds her hands through his soft hair, fingering his skull as he invaded her mouth with his seeking tongue. The action itself was a bit clumsy, being Darion had only done it once and wasn’t in control.

A mere four years before when he was still young, coming into his body like all boys, he met a stable girl, like all boys do. She giggled and pulled him into the hay, the cover of night their only hope of not being caught. She opened his mouth with her tongue, more eager then he was. It was the first and since the last he had ever touched a woman. Darion remembers the panic he felt when he saw blood seep around their joining, she promised it was natural but he didn’t believe her. Darion came too fast and got into heaps of trouble when the girls father found out. His father had too found out and Darion got nothing short of a flogging from his father. Darion never again touched a girl or woman.


Until now he mused, licking at her tongue. Soft subtle moans make it through her occupied mouth, Darion was wearing more then simple linens and starts to go about removing the armour. Piece by piece he drops them onto the floor, keeping her mouth to his only parting when absolutely necessary. All that was left was the small leathers hiding his lower half.

Asch had raised skin, a light shiver ran down her spine, but she arched into his body the best her belly would allow. Darion knew his flesh would be icy, but she seemed to take too it better then she did other chilly things.

“I have... regretfully never dealt with something like this,” Darion says as it begins to become heated, there was no sense in pretending mastery where there was none. Darion did not wish too look like the fool he was in the barn with that stable girl. “Nor have I,” she mutters equally, “neither of us has.. had to deal with such things...” whether intentionally or not Asch just reviled she had no lover before the king and has never once carried a child before. Although, that was obvious by how little she knew to expect.

Darion casts the doubt from his mind and swallows, “I will do what I know...” Darion knew to use his fingers, the girl had told him too. He was slightly disturbed by the wet heavy slick on his fingers then, but now it was a welcoming relief.

Laying on her back didn’t hurt, so Darion helps her into the furs. Darion always liked her hair, it was long and naturally silver, it lay spiralled around her pillows. The soft colour reaches between her legs, a tuft of pubic hair hiding her rosy cunt. Darion ducks between her legs, curious. His fingers found wetness where they roamed, his eyes found soft lips and a clintching entrance. She gasps out a noise of pleasure, arching her back. That was surely painful for her, the weight now leveraged on her belly.

His father always told him that where men carry weight in their shoulders women carry it in their hips. Both held different purposes, sword and shield barring. Carrying life. One was certainly lesser to the other.

Darion eases his finger inside, feeling the contrast of their heats, where Darion had none Asch had it all. Her soft insides were wet and warm, soft and tight despite being abused by his master. “O-oh...” her head digs into the pillows and a gush of hot fluid weighs in his palm. It took a moment of sheer confusion to understand what had happened. Darion had never made a woman come, but he knew it couldn’t have been that easy.

“Sensitive,” he concludes with a stroke of ego. Besides pregnancy she was an elf, and elves were very easy to arouse. Koltira has told him this.

“Bedding girls was my favourite pass time,” he told him once, “the girls get so horny, it’s easy to make them come.” A smug air was always about him when he spoke of conquests, “their favourite thing is cock.” Now, that had to be a lie. Blood elves were many things, but not so superficial as that. Darion knew because Koltira had at least some substance.

However, it may have had some truth at least. The fine sheen of sweat coated her body as she heaves, coming down from her peak. Darion dares to lick his fingers and Asch cannot watch him do it. The taste was amazing to his tongue, Darion could not decide what it was, but eagerly laved it from his digits.

Carefully Darion drapes over her, the low light making the lichfire of his eyes stain the air with a gentle glow. Her sickly green eyes bore into his, unafraid. The bump protests between them, Darion eases away, looking, deciding.

“What is most comfortable?” He asks rather than guess, Asch has a frown of thought, wondering herself how this would go. “Um,” she starts, “I have heard it’s easier if I was... on my knees- with a pillow under me.” Darion toys with the idea, trying to imagine it at work.


Darion first manhandles her into position, helping her onto her knees and holding the weight of her pregnancy, then he produces a pillow, slotting it beneath her. Asch wiggles, laying down, content with the support of the pillow and waits for what he had decided. Darion slots between her legs, “yes?” The realization crosses her, Asch nods eagerly, “yes!”


Darion was out of his element, but he’d damn himself if he claimed to not like it. Carefully, pulls free of his leathers and holds his cock in hand, setting it against her folds. Asch keens at the feeling, pushing back into him. Darion grins lightly, letting the head of his cock slide inside. Asch sighs openly, clutching the bed sheets. It had been a painfully long time since he’s felt such pleasure, it was biting at his skin. Darion wanted to force himself deeper and never leave her warmth. Darion knew how bad of an idea that was and instead sated himself by slowing entering to the hilt, relishing every second.


Flexing his hips, Darion set about a pace, pleasing to him and very satisfying to her. If the writhing and gasps were anything to tell by. Darion cants his hips, his balls clintching tightly, slapping against her flesh. Sweat beads down his neck, it has been a long time.

“I... I won’t-“ he grunts, purring out rumbles like a pleased cat. Asch moans, nodding frantically, barring into him like she was giving permission. Darion lurched at the chance, falling over and spilling inside with a exhale of pure frost. Darion keeps forcing his hips against her ass, letting his cock be milked. “Gods...” he grunts, finally pulling off.

It had been a long time since he’d ever laid down and rested.

Through his panting he manages a weak, “good?” Asch rolls to her side, then onto her back, “good,” Darion grins, stretching out like a cat.

 

Chapter 54: Darion dabbles 2

Summary:

Darion Mograine/original female character

So I might revisit these Darion dabbles and fill in the space that is obviously here since I went from the beginning of Lich King to the fall-ish.

Maybe some Darion pregnant fluff will happen lol.

No promises since I was a kid when I played wrath and I remember dick from that expac other than cool undead people...

Long story short I don’t wanna fudge details and completely AU the ass out of the whole expac

Chapter Text

The fall was shocking to everyone, the release of control, the sudden feeling of breathing free air.

The ebon blade, it was a whirlwind of happening. Darion served as their leader, their Highlord.

In the experience Darion was carted away to the makers of the Horde and Alliance, both fighting to over throw the Lich King, just as he now wanted.

In all of the excitement, all of the fighting. Asch was left in the citadel.

Darion raised half of hell about it, demanding they go find her.

“We can not waste resorces on one elf!” Varian Wrynn bleats, a fowl expression. Darion snarls, “one elf?! She carries life!” This had Darion even quieting. That. That was a mistake. Darion feels sick regret well up. “She is with child?” Thrall asks, shocked and concerned. Both faction members were welcomed in neutrality here in the ebon hold.

“Yes...” Darion forces out, fists clintching, Varian’s face only becomes more fowl. “Whose life?” Darion could not answer this, and by that fact, they knew that he knew who the child’s father was.

“Who damn you?!” The human king bellows, worry in his eyes. Darion had a choice, dare he make the wrong one. “Arthas...” his breath is frothy and full of snow, “it’s Arthas’”

There was an uproar. Some called for her head, some called to kill the child. Some said leave her to the fate of ice crown. The leaders however were the most terrible. “If that child is born to Arthas this will all be for naught, another king will take his place.” Varian snaps. Thrall rumbles, an uncomfortable noise that was full of gravel “it’s a child. There is not evil in a-“ “there is when it is the spawn of the Lich King!” Varian protests greatly, furious.

“Gentlemen!” Tirion Fordring became the voice to silence all others. The echo resounds ascross the walls, making an imposing figure of its maker. “I will not have a child slaughter because of its sire- Highlord Mograine... Darion.” The boom of his voice becomes soft when adressing him.

“You know this woman?” Darion closes his eyes. He did not just know her.

“I love her.” Tirion heard all he needed. “You will find her.”

 

There she was, on her knees before a grand crib. A sheen silk cloth came down from the ceiling as if it were a royal babies crib. It was in some part. Darion stops short of the entrance, staring and the blood coating her dress, the way it dragged like paint across the wet floor. Asch sobs, bringing him to action.

Darion rushes forward with a crash of his sword, leaving it on the floor. Asch cowers, head ducking away, “Asch!” The familiar sound of his voice rouses her, greenish blue tainted eyes looking at him, “don’t hurt him!” Darion arches away, panting. A boy.

“Please!” She screams, looking passed him. Darion swiftly turns, “out!” He commands the advancing knights. They stumble and stop, but don’t move to leave, “get out!” The first in the group to move is Koltira, pushing back with him the rest.

His bark awoke the baby, a shrill cry comes from my the crib, Asch curses low, getting up from the floor. Darion watched helplessly as she pulls the child out, bringing the evil spawn to her chest. Arthas’ son looked more elven than man, the ears pointed and flopped lazily, long and tall, standing proud. They framed his face, the sickly pale blue hue of his eyes made Darion swallow bile.

Worst of it was the tawny blonde hair upon his head. “Shh,” Asch coos, kissing his head despite what it was. Darion had to remind himself that she was his mother, that it was only a child and could do no evils.

Not yet anyway.


Darion also remembers why he came, quickly shaking his head, “I’ve come to rescue you- we’ve not much time now.” A bewildered expression crosses her face, “recuse me? Surely you jest? They’d have me dead!” That was true, but Darion didn’t want that. “Please, I speak truth, come with me- Iydallus awaits us.” She curls away from him, holding the baby closer, “all of us?”

Darion feels a ping in his chest, but answers instantly, “yes!”


Iydallus was bucking his head, impatient as always. Darion ushers her quickly to his mount and vaults atop his back, quickly pulling Asch in front of him. He did not need to command his mount to do anything, it rode hard as soon as its master had the reins. Iydallus rode until he came to the wards of Dalaran, the purple crystals were guarded by many mages, Darion passed through without issue.
“Why are we here?” Darion dismounts, helping her off Iydallus, “Dalaran is safer then ebon hold.” Safer then any place now.

A dark look crosses her face, “come, I have a room here.” They had been out of sync since he left, months tore them asunder. It was like they were strangers.

“What happened Asch?” There was pain in her eyes. She hid her face behind the baby, looking at the floor. “When you left he-“ She exhales as if she was out of breath, expelling nothing. “I was alone. I... I gave birth alone- Arthas did something to him.”

Darion closes the gap, sitting right next to her on the bed, “does... does he have a name?”

“Muradin.” That was hard to hear. Darion shuts his eyes. Just breathing. “Arthas told me to name him this... I didn’t see him after- the adventurers..?” Darion nods quickly, “killed him yes.” A small comfort unfortunately.

“Will his name stay?” Arthas was dead and the child would not remember having the name, neither would his mother nor Darion. Asch thins her lips, looking now at the sleeping face. “Yes. It will stay.” Silence passed them, “few know his real father.” Tirion, Thrall, Varian and a council of deathknights.

Darion suddenly drops to the floor with purpose, “Muradin is a find name for him,” he says with a steeled voice, “Menethil is not.” He quickly swallows, using the last of his courage, “but Mograine...”

“You would- Darion...” Asch face is sunken, wrought with emotion, “I was there, I watched him grow within you, why shouldn’t I be his father?” Darion didn’t understand why he needed this so much. Was it because his family was torn apart? Was he clinging to the idea he could have happiness. Deathknights suffer, it was what he knew.

But Darion could learn more. He was always good at that.

“You can’t want this!” She denies, shaking her head, “all I’ve ever brought you is trouble- this is not your burden to bare Darion! I thank you for being so kind but I cannot ask this if you!” Darion feels blackness seeping in his veins, dread filling his stomach.

“You haven’t asked me, I am asking you,” he urges, hands clutching her knees, almost as though he was begging now, he says, “I love you! This child is mine! I was not there for his birth but I will be there for his life- please!” He stresses, feeling no shame at his own desperate tone, “please let me!” Asch began to cry before he could do anything about it, “please I love you...” he was terrified, he never thought he could lose anything anymore.


“Darion- I... I love you so much!” The wind escapes him, a happy wet laugh falls from his mouth, for the first time in years Darion had a family.

Muradin, once Darion could look at him clearly didn’t look much like his real father. The elven blood had made him more like his mother, Asch says he looks just like her brother, but Darion had never met him. She said he wouldn’t because he was in Silvermoon flying the Horde banner. His purpose would never find him in Dalaran or near his sister.

Honestly, besides the little who knew the truth, Muradin could easily pass for Darion’s son, the blonde hair was a giveaway to his own. The ears were his mothers, the face could be his own and the eyes were the product of death creating life. He may look like Arthas before his fall, but Darion wasn’t worried about that.


For now his worries cantered around actually looking after him. Darion died at nineteen, he has no knowledge of looking after young. Women did this, his father had little to do with his very own upbringing, but Darion did not wish to be abesent while Muradin grew up.

Asch didn’t have much of an idea how to look after him either, aside from understanding when to feed him she didn’t have much of a clue. Darion was told nursing young was something all women would be good at, but he didn’t believe it was so flat lined as this.

The first red flag was where he was to grow, but Darion couldn’t provide much else besides Acherus, at first he didn’t deem it safe, but where else was the commander and Highlord to go? Asch had promised him it was fine so they made do.

There was a total of three deathknights who knew what Muradin really was, who his father was and Darion held a meeting for just this purpose. Koltira Deathweaver, Thassarian and Thalanor. Tirion had sworn both faction leaders to secrecy, but now it was his duty to silence his knights.


“I assume you know the matter at hand?” A collective look and errie silence is his answer. Darion raises a brow but lets it go, “good then this will be painless. The elf in this keep is under your protection. The child...” he trails off, staring at the table before him.

“Is my son. Do you understand?” Koltira was the only one to nods in agreement.

“But he is not.” Says Thassarian, Darion bores into him, lichfire eyes staring into the others. “Yes. He is. You will never say those words again. If you do... I will correct the mistake of your resurrection- Thalanor?” The did not nod either.

“Why?” The elf questions, “why are you allowing the Lich kings son life? One day he will learn of his true purpose, your kindness and soft heart will be nothing more then it is; foolish!” Darion decides to consider the question fairly before answering with an equally chilling voice.

“Because I have decided he is mine. And if the day should come that he learns of his true sire... I will know who to cut down.” Thalanor flinches, face pinched. A faint but still submissive, “yes highlord,” is uttered. Then the two other voices follow. Koltira was the loudest, having agreed to the terms long before this meeting arrived.

Singing had never been heard in the halls of Acherus before, but as Darion walked he heard the stuble hum of a melody.


“-without you I feel broken like I’m half of a whole, without you I’ve got no hand to hold, without you I feel torn like a sail in a storm, without you I’m just sad song.” The melody was sad, but she sung it lovingly

Elves voices were beautiful, whimsical and Darion was upset to ruin the song. Asch pauses, looking as he opened the door to their room, Muradin was asleep in the furs, twitching his little legs as he dreamt.

“Hello my love,” Darion whispers, kissing her forehead, Asch smiles warmly, “Hello darling. How did the meeting go?” Darion carefully sits, pulling his gauntlet free of his wrist before touching the soft tuffs of hair, “they will not tell unless they wish for death.”

Chapter 55: Muradin (Arthas’ son) dabbles 1

Summary:

Mograine family!

EDIT: so I noticed that it’s confusing, Muradin is the dwarf, but he was also Arthas’ friend and I thought I would use the same name for his son since Arthas had named him.

And I’m a sentimental BASTARD.

So to be clear, this Muradin is Arthas’ son, named after the Muradin that is the dwarf.
Not the actual dwarf... lol

So right now there’s no love interest but I’m sure there will be!

Chapter Text

Ages saw kings fall and dragons killed, thunder gods dethroned and a mad Orc put to rest.

But one thing that was constant was the life Darion lead now. Muradin has grown into a fine young man, one almost as old as Darion was before he died. Seventeen. An age where a boy should be finding girls to bother and fights to win. Muradin was however not average boy.

Much to Darion’s fear he grew to look just as Arthas had, but almost all had forgotten about the fallen king and his son.


“Father!” Darion came to love that name, the Highlord turned, a smile present on his face. His sons ears flopped as he ran up, “mother needs you- she wouldn’t say why.” A small frown of curiosity, “well. I suppose I should see what she wants. Back to your studies Muradin.” A grin erupts on his handsome face. Darion swallows, too much like Arthas.

“I’ve finished! May I got practice with Thalanor?” Darion rolls his eyes, but in a pleasant way. “Yes son, go on.” A thank you father is throw over the excited teen shoulders as he rushed to find the death knight.

Just like his father, he wished to be a paladin, a knight of the sliver hand. Darion appreciated how much his son looked up to him, but always worried.

Darion found Asch looking over the frozen land below her, smiling and humming a tune. “Aren’t you cold?” He shouts over, watching her flinch is surprise. The wind whips her hair as she turns, a giggle coming for her pretty lips, “no,” she teases, a brow raised, “I’ve married an ice block a little wind is nothing.” Darion laughs despite her little jab, finding himself closing his arms around her middle, looking over her shoulder at the wasteland.

“So than, our son said you wished to speak too me?” Asch hums pleasantly, rubbing his arms with her naked hands, catching on the metal. “I did, I have an something to ask of you!” That usually was never good, “Oh?” He says, squeezing her in his arms.

Asch turns in his embrace, shyly glancing at anything but his face, “I was... I wanted-“ she bites her lip, very nervous. Then she says in the smallest voice, “I want another... baby,” her face scrunched as if she was about to be hit with something. Darion gulps, where normal humans would have lost what she said, Darion did not.


“You do?” Apparently this surprised her and she stiffened in his arms, “um- I... yes!” She’s shaking, “please?!” Darion adores the hope on her face, in her words.

Another baby?

Darion licks his lips, a slow smile spreading along his cheeks, “absolutely my love.” Her face lit up and Asch jumps in his embrace, squealing, “Thank you!” Darion spins her, laughing deeply, “of course, I only wish I could start right now,” a sturly note in his tone and he palms more then he should, “but,” he purrs, watching her reaction.

“I have a few duties to attend, I won’t be long,” Asch pouts, not letting go of her hold on his neck, “can’t you stay with me a moment?” Darion smirks, “I suppose I could-“ she yelps as he picks her up, making his way to the railing before carefully setting her down and slotting between her dangling legs.

“What’s made you want a baby darling?” Darion pulls his helmet off, dropping it to his feet. Asch plays with his hair, ruffling it free of tangles it usually gets by being in his armour. “I saw ours grow up,” there’s pain in her voice, “soon he will be fighting in wars with his father, both my boys will be gone!” Darion kisses her cheek as she speaks, nuzzling. “I wish to hold him again, my baby has gotten to big for his mothers love.”

Darion carefully smiles, “no no, too embarrassed for it,” he laughs at her scowl, “I miss when he was a little boy, he never left my side.” Yes, Darion remembers his timid little boy, clinging to his mothers skirts staring up at his father, the eyes of Arthas seeking approval and assurance.

Darion would bend down and tell his son; it’s alright and then, it would be. Now Muradin has grown and no longer looks to his father for safety and answers. He old enoug now to seek what he wishes out.

“Muradin loves you Asch, that will never change.” Asch frowns, “but he has... he’s just like...” she doesn’t dare speak his name, too afraid, “he’s very ambitious, he wants things quicker than they can come... I worry about that.” Despite Darion’s influence it seemed his son was far more like his true sire then Darion. That always annoyed him, making him see the difference in them. Muradin was his son, nothing would alter that.

But... Darion saw so much of Arthas in him. The hair, his eyes and how big he’s gotten. Muradin would be far larger than Darion, Arthas was. Taller and broader. Those who knew saw it, Koltira would look between them and become pinched, strange. Muradin could see none of it, Darion was his beloved father, the man he wished too be.

Darion only hopes it will stay that way.


Secrets were not meant to be kept, the greatest ones were always the hardest to hide, one day Darion would see his son learn the truth and the Highlord only hoped he would not be changed by it, or realize the fate Arthas had wished for him.

For now Darion casts it out of his mind, “have you decide upon any names then?” A thoughtful look crosses her beautiful features, “no! It’s your turn, I named our first!” Darion blinks, stumped, “Oh.” Is all he can say.

Asch giggles, cupping his face, “you'll come up with something grand I’m sure!”


Muradin has always felt odd. An oddness he has tried to snuff out with the teachings of the light, but his mistake was thinking that it would go, rather it grew with each swing of his sword or lesson he learned. A growling pit of pure strange.

Like he wasn’t full, like nothing he did was ever finished. Even growing felt incomplete. Like his words held no meaning and his magic was weaker then most. Muradin could never truly tell. No paladin would ever come here, so he learnt from ones who used to be. The more he mastered the more the knights were repulsed, however that was a good sign.

Muradin wondered what it would be like to wield the shadows and unholy strengths like his father does, his father absolutely forbid it, would not hear of it. Muradin knee what he was, the product of a very unholy union. A death knight and an elf, one living and another dead. He could use the powers of dread and shadow, it as in his blood.


But it made his father upset, so he dared not defy him in such a way.

Muradin saw his parents, he only came to see if father had found mother, but he stayed to watch them embrace, the happiness in her face and how father twirled her and laugh. Muradin leans against the wall, watching his father place her atop the railing, squinting too see her whisper and blink when his father drops his helm.


Muradin always hated what those around him said about him, about his mother and father. He was called the unliving child. The cross of death and life. His parents were considered fowl and unusual, but what he saw as nothing short of normal.

Some mocked him for become as old as his father appeared, how he would grow older still as his father stayed younger. It mattered little, his father would never age or die from it. Mother neither, or so was told too him.

The grandest story was told to him at the ripe age of sixteen. Darion Mograine had fallen in love with a living servent of the Lich King, bore her a child and rescued her before the scrouage lord ever knew. He and twenty five of the greatest champions the Horde and Alliance had to offer cut the Lich King down and ended his terrible rein.

Muradin grew up watching the deeds of men and dwarf, troll and orc alike. He heard of a dragon, one of the last great and mighty dragons was killed in a maelstrom, a Thunderking rained out and a mad warchief murdered by many. His mother had no dealing in any of the affairs, nor did his father. The two had no cause to rush to the worlds aid, for they had more pressing things. Muradin could not think of what they were, would ask each time a threat loomed if it was time too see it done.

Each time his parents would smile and say the damned had no need to metal in the words of mortals. The others under his fathers rule said much the same, it was none of their business if kings and warchiefs died, all that mattered was the legion. Muradin was told of the legion, the fury and hate it spewed.

Mother said they burnt her home to the ground Lon before he was even a notion in her head. Father said it was what caused the Lich King to go mad and make an army.

It was the whole reason for all these undead knights to be resurrected.


Muradin stalks off, leaving his parents to laugh amoug themselves, feeling empty.

That night he lay in bed, the wind bellowing through his curtains, a whisper almost like words calling too him. Muradin frowns, twitching, straining too hear it.

My heir...” he heard it sing through the winds, “my blood...!” Muradin bolts up, looking frantically around his room. Nothing but shadows awaited his terrified gaze.

My son!” Muradin darted from bed.

His feet smacked the ground loudly, annoying some of the knights he passed, but he would not stop even as they yelled after him. Muradin skids to a stop, sliding a little passed a heavy closed door, hurting the soft pads of his feet. Muradin shoves the door open, falling on his knees.

“Muradin?!” His father’s voice rings out a long echo, swiftly shooting up from under his mother, taking her to the bed so he could not see. “What is going on-“ “I heard voices!” Muradin was too frightened to care he walked in on his parents.

Mother was flushed, panting and looking rather cross with her only son, annoyed as she should be, but worried all the same. “Voices?” His father asks, a deep frown.

“Yes! It- I heard... it said my heir!” He shouts, “m-my blood and... and my son!” A horrible look of fear overtakes his father. A sick looks haunts his mother.

An awful pause, a snap of his fathers jaw.

“Come here Muradin.” Muradin bolts like a frightened child, climbing his parents bed just as he did when he was a toddler. Muradin completely ignores he state of it, the rumpled sheets and the frothy smell. How is father tightly stuffs the sheets around his waist, chest naked and covered in sweat.

“I’m going to tell you a story,” his father hesitates, looking at his mother before speaking again, “one that is painful but must be understood. Will you understand Muradin?” Frantically he nods.

Darion exhales, closing his eyes. “We lied, about your creation and how your mother and I came to be. Necessary lies, but lies the same.” Muradin swallows, clinching the sheets in his fist.

“You were not given to your mother by me. You’re father is the Lich King. Is Arthas. Your mother was taken from her home, caged and abused by the Lich King. Forced to produce and heir to continue his line.” His fathers voice becomes shakily and stunted. “I was charged with looking after your mother while she was pregnant with you. It was truthful when I told you we did find love, but it wasn’t I who helped your creation.”

Muradin feels hallow, sick to his stomach. His birth father wasn’t his father.

It was Arthas. The greatest evil known yet.

“But he is your father, Muradin-“ his mother stresses woundedly, “you know this don’t you?” Muradin nods quickly, tears bubbling in his eyes, “something was done to you the day you came into the world. Something your mother didn’t understand. Few know of your real father, but one may help with these whispers...” father flares at nothing, angry at everything.

“You’re my real father,” Muradin mutters, rivets of tears fall, dotting the grey sheets below him, “you are!” Muradin feels wretched, “b-but why?!” He croaks, “why did you lie?!” Muradin sees his mother begin to cry, something that makes him more upset, “to protect you,” His father says, “from all the people who wished to hurt you-“ “you were my baby!” His mother interrupts wetly, “I loved you the moment I saw you and I knew anyone who knew would try to take you from me- your father... your father- he wanted to protect us, give you a life to live. Something more than the son of the Lich King.”

Muradin feels weak, a quiver runs down his spine, “we didn’t mean too hurt you my love,” His mother promises, “we didn’t want you to be burdened with the horrible truth.” Muradin wipes his eyes, something shifts inside him. Determination wells up.

“No... no this is the truth- the story you told me is the only truth, that you are my mother and you are my father!” He inhales, feeling better than moments ago, “who will help these whispers? Who will make them stop?” Even now he can hear them faintly, desperately. Clawing at the back of his mind like a disease. His father runs a hand over his face, pulling sweat of his brow.

“The banshee queen of Undercity.”

Chapter 56: Ares dabbles 2

Summary:

Male blood elf/male blood elf

I like my elves okay

Chapter Text

Ares smirks, his horse trots behind the commander, who yaps at him for being disgusting.

"You know," he leans over, all too pleased with himself, "they were paid for. For the guests-" "that doesn't mean you have your fun!" He snarls, Ares snorts.

"That's exactly what it means."

A pained look.

"Please. Don't be you Ares. This client is important." Ares leans on his horse, eyeing the other elf, "yeah? Why?" The commander puffs out in agitation, glaring ahead of the road.

"The argent dawn had requested a select few healers from both sides to be transported to the tournament grounds." He helpfully and reluctantly explains, "they've asked you to deliver a priest as an ambassador for Silvermoon." A small pause, "and be one of the champions of the horde."


Ah, there it was.

"Ah, is that because I am one of the best warriors alive?" His commander scowls, Ares was fishing in the wrong pond. "Yes. That would be why." Ares chuckles at how forced it sounded. "Fine. I suppose I'll deliver the priest."

"And be pleasant!"

"And be pleasant." Mocking.


The priest was late and Ares was annoyed by it. The sun was running hot in the sky and his armour was too thick for any breeze to funnel through.

"Who is this anyway?" Ares gripes, rolling his eyes. The commander wipes his brow, "his name is high priest Azrael Darkdragon. He should be along soon- ah there is the squad." The squad consisted of four heavily armed guards and the priest who, was just covered enough that all Ares could see was the white legs of the horse he rode.

"High priest!" The commander bowed and Ares followed slowly after the commander glares at him. The four guards got down first and then the white horses figure hopped off, pulling his hood as he went.

Ares watches the priest as he is revealed, the priest had an angled, very pretty face. The robes hugged his body like a woman and his hips were wider. He almost looked like a women, if not for his firm jaw and long white brows.

"Commander," even his voice was petal like and gentle. It rang like church bells and sounded like a cooing dove all at once. How pretty. Ares liked pretty faces.

"Greetings," he bows his head again, Ares rolls his eyes. "If it please you," the priest gestures for him to continue, a delicate hand flicking. "This is Lieutenant Ares Dawnstealer, he will be your escort to Northrend." The priest turns, sauntering over with alluring steps, he looked very innocent as he did, tucking a long stripe of hair behind his long, piereced ear. There was four rings of metal crawling up his ear that twinkled in the light.

"Dawnstealer? Is that a family name?" Ares smirks despite himself, "earned," a curious looks crosses his face, his perky mouth formed an O shape, "earned?" Ares leans on the horse, which barely noticed, "I stole many men's dawns. That is why I am called Dawnstealer." The priest is amused, smiling with his eyes and soft cheeks.

"That's quite a horse," again his amusement is outweighed by curiosity. Ares gazes beside him, looking up at the massive head of his Destrier. "He is. His name is Sun," the priest lifts his hand, petting the fuzzy snout, "he's very sweet." Ares pats his side roughly, "he’s sweet on pretty things."

The blush was almost worth the talking his commander was going to give him later.

"We should be on our way, high priest. As you will," Azrael snaps out of his trance, smiling pleasantly at the commander, "yes of course."

The guards accompanied them until they reached the end of the Silvermoon docks. The ship was big enough to house three rooms, one for Ares, the priest and the commander. There was a place to hold their horses and it was nicely kept. Ares leans on the railing, looking over the sunset as the ship set its sails.

"Sir Dawnstealer," the priest’s velvet voice perks his attention, "Ares," he says automatically, without thinking, Azrael nods curtly, his hair waving in the breeze, "have you ever been to Northrend?" Ares spins around, planting his elbows on the wood rail, reguarding the high priest. His skin was pale, even for a bloodelf.

"No, does that worry you?" There was no use in lying about it, the commander would sell him down the river fist chance if he did. "No, I've been told you are competent in everything you do." Ares nods freely, feeling his high foxtail bob and brush against his neck, tickling it lightly. "Very."


"What did you do?" Curious again.


"Kill people." Ares was a very modest man.

"Is that all?" Adventurous priest.

"What else is there?" It was the priest’s turn to smirk. "Many things," his fingers play with a swaying rope, "dancing, healing- making love." Ares raises a brow, the other elf was almost daring him to speak. "I'm very good at that," his voice grows husky, purring the words. Azrael steps closer, angling his lovely hips toward Ares, "are you?" Now that was a dare.

"Wanna find out?"

"Ares." Oh, that voice. The commanders voice.

Ares tilts his head past the priest, the blush was crimson and he was sorry to miss it. "What?" Annoyance was the first emotion he felt, then anger. "Come. Here." Ares bows, smiling apologetically at the priest.

"Yes?" He hisses, they were far away enough that the priest couldn't hear, "you are not having sex with him."

"Not with you in the way!"

The commander eyes him, "no, not ever. He his a high priest. Not some whore. The one thing I will not allow of you is this. Your pleasures are yours but not when it concerns a client of ours." Ares fumes, clearly. Commander fumes back, glaring thickly "Ares please. Do not. You always... leave your partners without. The high priest is... sensitive and sweet. I won't have you hurting him." Ares is baffled, wide eyed shock, the commander can see it too.

"I'm warning you only once."


The conversation was not something he wanted to have, but the commander was breathing down his neck. "Ah, it was very unprofessional of me too speak too you in such a way high priest." Azrael was making the face again, mouth slightly agap, eyes open and wide. It was very cute. The commander was right. He was far too sweet for Ares.

"Well," it was a gentle sigh, a warm puff of air that danced across his face and made Ares gulp, "thank you for being professional, Sir Dawnstealer." Oh.... last name. That hurt a little. "How long will we be until we arrive?"

Ares let it sink in and the burn overtake, "a day. Then a week or more until icecrown. We will be stopping in Dalaran for a banquet in the champions honour then we head to Icecrown. If that is all?" A sad, cold look.

"Yes that is all."


The ride from the Tundra to Dalaran was quiet, awful and uneventful. The commander parted ways at a fork to assist in the Basin, saying something about helping out there and heading back home since it was all standard from Dalaran to Icecrown. Ares wasn't very interested in the banquet, but he had too go for apperenced sake. He had to wear his armour and look regal, like all the horde champions had too.

It was amazing however to meet Thrall, the warchief. Ares got to stand with him, speak to him. He got to swap war stories for a while before Thrall was needed for other things. Which left Ares to prowl about the party and flirt.

He met a lovely elf rouge that was currently twirling her hair, "so you're a champion?" Ares puffs a little, looking proud "I am, chosen by the warchief himself." It wasn't a total lie, he was hand picked, but Ares knew it wasn't by the warchief. Still she looked impressed and believed him. Whether or not she knew it was a lie was moot point now, because she was giving him quite the steamy look.

"Oh, would you like to show me why you were hand picked?" Ares chuckles, "I'll show you all night-" "sir Dawnstealer?" Ares deflates, but schools his face "high priest, what an honour!" The priest looks very upset, "may I have you for a moment?" The rouge pouts, Ares shrugs, "a minute sweetheart?" She sighs, waving her hand dismissively. Sauntering off. Ares can't help but follow.

"Sir?" Annoyed.

"What?" Equally, if not more annoyed.

"Is it wise to be seeking company?" Ares thinks it's very wise, "what does it matter?" He can't help but be flat and snippy. "Well... well I think it's... it's not professional!" His squeaking is almost cute. "No," Ares draws out the word, teasing the end. "It's not professional to sleep with you, everyone else is game."

"Like I was?" Ares cringed at the retort.

"I wasn't... I wasn't going to act on that!" He hisses, whispering with a pinched face, "it was harmless flirting! I wouldn't sleep with you."

"You wouldn't?" He sounded so hurt.

"What- wait. You- you just said you didn't want to sleep with me!" Now he was confused.

"No. I asked if I was game too you. I didn't say anything about not wanting too... sleep with you." He didn't seem to like the sound of 'sleep with' when it left his perfect lips. "You're not game too me," Ares blabbers, not sure of what he was even saying anymore. "Than what am I?" Ares doesn't like this conversation.

"You're... you're someone I can't sleep with!" Azrael looks like he just caught him in something, "than I suggest you don't."

"What...? Than why are we-"

"You should make love too me instead." A very welcome interruption.

 


Ares had his hands on the other elves thighs, holding him up to his body as they stumbled into his room, he was right before when he thought about how soft his robes are, and how plump his lips were. The priest was breathing heavily, wiggling his front against Ares, making the other huff and growl out pleasured noises. "Have..." Ares groans, "you ever?" The question was obvious, Azrael shakes his head "no... you'll be.. be the first." That made it somehow hotter.

The plate made clunking noises as it fell away, Ares was eager to stripe himself of the heavy armour. Along his way, the warrior licked and bit what he could reach on Azrael, making him cry out and mewl from the attention.

Ares got his hands under the soft robes, fanning his fingers over the pert nipples, the priest squirms, breaking their kiss with a shutter. "Like that?" He rasps against his mouth, tugging lightly at the flesh. Azrael bucks into him, eyes fluttering shut.

"Please," he begs, humping into Ares' leg "please more." This makes his grin, planting another sloppy kiss to the priest's swollen lips, "as you wish..."

Ares made a mess of the high priest, he was a panting mess, bite marks and hickies littered his torso and hips, Ares eyes him hungrily as he eased forward. The pink flushed head of his cock bobbed lightly as he got face to face with it, it was average sized and beating red and drooling pre-cum.

Ares licks at the tip, causing Azrael to jerk and look away, embarrassed at the sharp whine he made. Ares pops the spongy head into his wet mouth, swirling his tongue along the slit, feeling the other elf shake.

Ares goes slower than usual, drawing out reactions and teasing as he bobs his head down the shaft, hallowing his cheeks as he goes. Azrael was whimpering, trying to buck into his mouth. Ares has a twinkle in his eye as he allows the cock too fill his throat, absolutely delighted in the noise the priest made.

"Oh gods-" Azrael arches, clawing at the sheets as Ares swallows down his whole length, his legs part wider and the warrior coats his fingers with oil. Since it was the priests first time Ares would distract him from the discomfort that came with stretching. Without warning his touched the pink puckered hole, watching Azrael force his head into the pillows. Ares toyed with the pucker, loosing it gently while he worked. Azrael, like most tried to wiggle away, but Ares sucked harder on him and then the little priest locked up and wailed.


Slowly, while licking the head of his cock furiously Ares poked his middle finger inside, sliding it into the warm heat. Azrael grunts, huffing at the intrusion. Ares kisses the head, mutter just loud enough for the priest too hear, "you're doing so good." The phrase had the priest blushing deeply, it crawled down his chest and made him look very delicate.

Azrael threads his shaky fingers through Ares' loose hair, tugging gently at the roots. Ares hums around his cock, making Azrael jolt and hiss. Ares worked his finger, curling it in the spot that made the priest jump off the bed and down his throat. Ares felt quite smug when he saw tears running out of Azrael's eyes as he chanted his name.

Adding the second finger made him stiff, squirm again as he worked it with the other, Ares quickly got him used too it, stringing the pleasure along as he sucked him off. "Ares-" he gasps, Ares hums again, scissoring his fingers, making the stretch burn at little.

The third finger had Azrael grunting in pain, legs restlessly rubbing at his shoulders, Ares can't do much about it, so he works, waiting too see the pleasure bubble again, looking for the special spot inside of him.

When he found it Azrael yowled and came straight down his throat. Ares sucked harshly, milking the spot with his fingers until the priest spent himself completely. Ares didn't hate the taste as he felt it on his tongue, gladly swallowing it all down before releasing the poor virgin.

"O-oh... gods-" Azrael was wrecked and Ares peacocked quite obviously at that, wiping his fingers on the sheets as he applied more oil to his unattended cock. "Ready?" He asks, jerking the soft cock to life, Azrael twitches and humps into the hand, moaning sweetly, "yes...!" He stresses, Ares smirks, kissing his lips again, "turn over for me beautiful." There was a hard, dark blush, but he did as commanded. Ares pulls his hips up, making Azrael's legs spread. Ares thrusts his cock between the cleft of his checks, shocking him into arching.

Ares presses his hand between the taught shoulderblades, pushing his front flush to the bed, "makes it easier to take it," he whispers dirtily in the long, pale ear, nipping the piercings along the way. Azrael gulps, nodding frantically. "Relax," he prods, inserting the tip. The puckered hole parts with little resistance, but Azrael tenses, making a straggled noise as Ares fills him.

"Shh, relax okay? You're doing so good," Ares kisses up his spine, mouthing at his neck "so good for me, yeah?" Azrael nods, frantically. Ares bottoms out, holding his position, "you took it all, I'm so proud," he teases, jerking off his cock where it hangs beaten his legs. Azrael pants, his body doesn't know what to do, his ass is wiggling back into the cock that speared him, but he's also trying to get away, pull off. Ares thinks it cute as he struggles.

"I'm gonna move now, okay?" A long pained mewl is his only response, Ares pulls out until the head of his cock is the only thing left, before easing back in. Azrael huffs harshly though his nose, not taking it well, but the warrior coos "so good, you're doing so good."

"A-Ares...!" He squeaks.

"Azrael," he melts.

His keeps his thrusting slow, even, pushing more and more until the priest is writhing in the sheets. Ares jerks his hand along with his hips, making Azrael squirm and moan, he could cum just watching that, but he won't. Not this time at least.

"More.. more please!" He sounds frustrated, Ares chuckles deeply, kissing his back again "you ask so nicely, of course." Ares all but slams his head, jolting Azrael's whole body up the bed. Azrael moans deeply, throwing his head back. His cock is weeping, dribbling in the sheets as Ares sets a brutal pace. The sounds of Azrael's moaning bounces off the walls along with the observe noise of his ass slapping into Ares' pelvis.


"Oh-oh I'm..." Azrael's claws at the sheets, Ares encourages him by squeezing his cock while ramming into him, "cum for me beautiful." Azrael quakes, a whine rolls from his open throat and his ass squeezes Ares into his own orgasm. Ares empties himself inside the tight hole, growling around the flesh he bit into on Azrael's back.

Ares' hand is still pumping his cock, forcing every spurt out until it dribbled down the back of his hand and Azrael gave out with a gasp, legs falling numbly into the bed, unable to keep up. Ares' cock slips out with a wet noise and he goes down too, purring happily as he kisses what parts of Azrael's face he can reach, until the priest indulges him and turns to kiss him sweetly.

"C'mere" Ares mumbles, pulling then both onto their sides, Azrael follows with a giggle, pushing back into his warm body, "goodnight Ares," he whispers so sweetly. Ares can't help the dopey smile that breaks across his face. "g'night Azrael."


The morning brought complications, at least when Ares remembered what his commander said.

"Good morning handsome," Azrael sloppily kisses his cheek, curling into his body. Ares never usually had his partner stay, either he would leave or they would. This however was a whole different situation. "My commander can't find out about this," he says instead of goodmorning, like the shit he was.

Azrael pouts, confused. Ares explains. "He told me not to get involved with you..." Azrael hums in understanding, eyes opening wide "oh..." he mutters, "does that.. does that mean we can't... do this again?" Ares lazily smirks, "we just can't get caught." Azrael wasn't the type of partner he usually had, he was not just a hit it and quit it kind of guy. He was the marrying kind. The sex with strings kind.

"Is... that all we are? Just sex?" He had to be very careful with his answer.

"I haven't had any other kind of relationship..." he was being honest, "I'm not sure what I'm doing... but no. Not just sex. I know you don't want that." The way Azrael beamed made Ares melt, the priest excitedly kisses him, giggling while clinging too him, but Ares stresses "but we really can't get caught-" "yes sir." Ares groans, rolling them over.

 

Chapter 57: Elowinn dabbles 2

Summary:

Original male Draenei/original female Draenei

This was supposed to be a Halloween special but I’m poo...

Chapter Text

There were three times a year Dobera was fond of, along with the festivals that came with them.

Children’s week, because of the smiling babies and the adoption.

Hallows end because he got to take children all over Azeroth to get candies.

And lastly, Christmas because he got to shower his wife in the most expensive gifts and she couldn’t be upset with him for spending so much.

Children’s week was long passed, but hallows end was just around the corner and Dobera, as promised always found himself at the welcoming gates of Shattrath. Dobera was none too surprisingly friendly with just about everyone how lived in the old city. There were many children here, those of Sin’dori blood, human and Draenei. Even a few orc children.

Dobera walked until he saw the banners and children all gathered outside the orphanage. They were creating hallows end decorations.

A matron noticed him first, a young woman he knew all too well. Freema, a very bright Draenei who grew up accustomed to his visits. She was never adopted into a family, but the girl never seemed bothered by it. In fact after she was of age to find her own place in the world Freema decided to stay and care for the other children.

“Dobera!” She shouts excitedly, rushing up from her chair and dropping the paper cute ghosts she was working on. Dobera chuckles, opening his arms as she runs straight for him. Other children bound up in excitement, all knowing who he was. There was new children and new faces, they were confused but happy all the same to see an adventurer.

“You are looking more beautiful then I remember,” he tells Freema, kissing her cheek. The young Draenei beams, “and you- you look tired!” She giggles at the deflated look he gives. “Come come, sit! The children will love too meet you!”

Four new children, two elves and two Draenei. Freema told all the children to gather in a circle and Dobera told one of his favourite stories. How he met his wife.
They were fresh paladins, new to the order. They met when he wife wished to train with him. Elowinn was adamant she could prove to be the strongest. Dobera was surprised at her confidence, he was the biggest Draenei in the ranks, but determined as she was Dobera allowed the challenge.


Now of course, he was much stronger, but she was a little faster. By the end of it they were an equal match and all their fellow paladins were shocked she could so easily topple him. Freema laughed, just like she always did when he told his silly stories. “Come come children, lets have Dobera help us make the decorations!” Dobera was not very good at this, but he enjoyed helping everytime he was roped into it.


His hands were too large for the little paper, but he tried as the children distracted him and asked their questions.

“What weapons do you use?”

“Is plate armour really heavy?”

“Have you met the prophet?!”


Dobera laughs, holding his hands up, “one at a time, little ones.” They anxiously wait, fidgeting in their spots. “I use a mace and shield, it is called Truthguard and Oathseeker. Yes, plate armour is very heavy, but it protects me. And Prophet Velen is one of my most treasured friends.” The children were in absolute awe.

“Do you have and kids? Can we play with them?” Dobera gave the boy a gentle smile, ruffling his hair, “I have no children little one. I am an adventurer, this life is no good to children.” The boy pouts, shaking his head “I think it’s exciting! You’ve killed dragons and evil men!” Dobera picks him up, settling him on his knee, “exciting yes, but not safe. One day you will see and understand.” The boy looks at him with glowing eyes, a determined look within them.

“I want to be a paladin! I want to be just like you!” Dobera feels his heart clinch, “one day, but for now- just be who you are.” Freema watches the boy hop down, pretending to act as what he thinks a paladin would. Two other boys join him and Dobera watches fondly.

“You know, that excuse will only last so long. You’ve overused it enough as it is.” Freema heard him say the same thing when she was but a little girl. Secretly she had hoped he would adopt her, much like many of these children now. Dobera throws her a look, shrugging his shoulders. “It is no less true. Elowinn and I lead very dangerous lives. I will not bring a child into it until I’ve nothing left to fight.” Freema laughs at his words, shaking her head, “you will always find something to fight, you always do.” Dobera looks a little sheepish at this, knowing she was right.

“How is Elowinn? Is she coming?” Dobera nods eagerly, “she was delayed by duties, but she will be here tomorrow morning to help with costumes.” Freema giggles, “I miss her so. Maybe this time she can convince you to adopt!” Dobera gives her a pained look, but says nothing.

The children loved Dobera, but they adored Elowinn. The day she came all the girls gifted her with crowns full of flowers and the boys bashfully hugged her legs. Elowinn kisses and hugs all the children, leaving none without affection. The boys squirm and blush, but melt a little. The girls kiss back and hug her so fiercely Elowinn didn’t want to let go.

But she did, because they were excited to show her their costumes. The boys wanted Dobera to play fight with them, so they parted on a kiss and Elowinn allowed herself to be tugged along by the girls.

“Ms. Elowinn I’m being a princess this year!” Elowinn gasps, eyes widening, “you are?! Wonderful! Lets get started then!” Out of the five girls two wanted to be princesses, one wanted to be a fairy, another a pirate and the last, a Paladin.

“Mr. Dobera has such pretty armour! I’ve seen it before! All golden and sliver! Please help me make it!” Elowinn was delighted too.

Eventually Dobera got the boys making their costumes, the four had decided upon being Warriors and Ghouls. One however sauntered toward Dobera, stresses white cloth in his hand. “Yes little one?” The boy was a bloodelf, one with tanned skin and a cut under his glowing green eye. Dobera had never seen this boy before.

“Can you help me?” He had a light voice, he was whispering so all the others couldn’t hear him. “Of course I can,” Dobera says equally quiet, “what can I do?” The boy wrestles with the fabric for a moment before fishing a folded picture from his pocket, hastily giving it to Dobera. Dobera carefully unfolds it, surprised to find an old recruitment photo, one of a priest standing on a hill with light magic painted to portray healing.

“You want to be a priest?” The boy nods frantically, “more than anything!”

Dobera smiles, gently tugging the fabric from his fingers, “I think this can be done.”


Trick-or-Treating with the children proved as fun as it always had been. A slice of normal the couple only got three times a year. Elowinn walked with him behind the lack of children, in one hand her husband and the other two empty pillow cases.

“You’re growing your beard out,” she observes, kissing his stubbled chin. Dobera nods, leaning into her touch “do you like it?” Elowinn shakes her head, watching the children excitedly thank the couple in the pot for giving them candy. “No, you’ve never done it before, I like it.” Dobera shrugs, dragging his feet. “Change is good.”


Elowinn jumps at his words, “is it?” She sounded eager in her own right, Dobera gives her a look. “Of course it is... why?” Elowinn bites her lip, worried now and showing it badly. “Elowinn?” It wasn’t often he used her full name, she gulps. “It is... really dangerous for us to have children?” They went through something like this every time they spent time with the children. Sometimes it was harder than the last.

Elowinn loves the children, but hates sometimes to see the same ones each time they arrive. Year after year Elowinn wonders if she will not see one of the familiar faces. Sometimes they’re adopted, sometimes they are not.

Freema has spent her whole life in the orphanage, from the day she was five to her eighteenth birthday. No one adopted her and every year Elowinn would cry, wishing she could’ve been the one to do it.


Dobera feels awful as he says it. “That never changes Elowinn.” She deflates, “but can’t it? My duties are minor to yours...” Dobera was the Highlord of the order, Elowinn was the Highlady, but wasn’t tasked so harshly with duties like Dobera was. “What if lights hope is attacked, like it was before- the deathknights killed our men, a child would be nothing to them.” Elowinn remembers that day, remembers Dobera kneeling over the bodies and praying for them himself.

Remembers how he cried in rage.

“They explained that! They didn’t-“ “they almost killed Lady Ladrian, Elowinn.” Elowinn stresses her hands into his arm, squeezing the muscle, “Please my love... I can’t bare it anymore!” Dobera looks away, trying to find something else to anchor too.

All he sees are the children up ahead, circling around each other.

He sees the little elf in his priest costume, looking mighty and proud.

Dobera shitters quietly, closing his eyes.

“This will bring us nothing but pain, you know this don’t you?” He was right, he knew he was. But for now the happiness in her face made up for it completely.


The children all together had collected four pillow cases of candy. Dobera had to carry it back, but did so happily. “Everyone shares!” The children knew this and once Dobera places the bags down they jumped at it, shouting which kinds they wanted and giggling.

Freema chuckles at the door, watching them eat and pass candies, making a neat little pile for the wrappers.

Dobera limbers toward her, inclining his head, “who has been here the longest?” Freema is shocked, “Oh- um... Théoden- the blood elf.” Dobera frowns, looking at the young boy he helped with the priest costume, “I have never seen him here before?” Freema licks her lips, fixing hair behind her ears, “he was, long ago. He came here as a baby, you may not recognize him. Théoden was adopted a few months after-“ a wounded look crosses her pretty face.

“A nice couple but they... they were attacked and killed,” Freema speaks in hushed tones, “the child was brought back- he lived with them for three years, he’s seven.”


Dobera puckers his lips, sighing lightly. “Give me all the papers for him.”

Freema stands ridged, “are you-“ “yes. But we have to be quiet for now. I don’t want the other children upset.” Freema nods quickly, “yes yes of course- this way!”

Chapter 58: Illidan Stormrage dabbles 9

Summary:

Illidan Stormrage/original female character

 

PRE BLACK TEMPLEEEEEEE

*SCREAMS*

Chapter Text

There was nothing interesting to Asch.

There was the temple, training to be a priest, a healer.

Dress in fine silks and be a good girl, learn the fundamentals of light magic. Asch was not interested in that, not interested in the excitement Tyrande found in it.

Illidan was allowed to be a mage, Malfurion was to be the first Druid.

What did it mean to be a Druid? What were they? Asch wasn’t allowed to know.

So she dragged her feet, watching her friends become one with their studies.

Illidan wasn’t having an easy time accepting his role, but he always found a smile for the girls. Even now, he sits, smiling. Tryande was making a grand story, how a classmate went a tripped in a pool of blessed waters- or something.

Asch sighs, a bit loudly. Tryande frowns a little at the flicker of attention stolen from her. Malfurion is the one to perk up, “what’s wrong?” He teases, “That was a mighty sigh.” Asch jolts, mouth agap, “um- nothing!” Illidan cocks a brow, looking unconvinced, “is that so?”

Asch nods quickly, “that’s so!”

They share a look, a heated teasing look before Illidan breaks and chuckles warmly, “finish your story for Mal, Asch come with me.” Little by little moments like this became treasured and loved. Asch lets him haul her up, pulling her right too him. Illidan squeezes her in a warm hug before letting her stand on her own feet. “Be back soon!” Mal calls, he knows they won’t.

“So,” Illidan asks more seriously, “you’ve been sighing all week. What’s wrong?” Illidan was always insightful, even when it wasn’t obvious. Somehow he noticed her dampened spirit. “Well. It’s...” Asch doesn’t know how to put it. “Mal.. Tryande- you... you’ve all found something. I’m not interested in becoming a priestess.” Illidan hims thoughtfully, nodding along to her troubles.

“But it’s all I’m allowed too do!” She huffs, throwing her arms up. Illidan had walked them toward a thicker part of the forest, Asch felt quite lost, but didn’t care very much. “What about being a sentinel? One of the Wardens?” Asch puffs her cheeks, tripping on an exposed root, of not of Illidan’s quick fingers she would have fallen.

“Oh- ugh! I’ve thought about it... just I don’t want to kill things- I just want to help. To give life!” The evergreens made her head calm and the grass tickled her feet. Illidan stops them, a knowing look. “It thought you might like this spot-“ he bites his lip, “midwife?” Asch snorts, pushing his shoulder before sinking in the grass. All around them crickets could be heard and a batch of fireflies erupted from where Asch disturbed the grass.

“I was serious,” he grins at her pinched face, “I’d more then likely drop the baby...” Asch was never good with babies, they cried when she held them... even her brothers and sisters did when they were young enough.

“What do you like?” Illidan finally asks, out of his own ideas. Asch ponders quietly, waving her hand through the grass... she could tell Illidan, he wouldn’t make fun of her.

“The earth, the trees- flowers and streams.” A clipped chuckle, “you want to ba a Druid than?” Asch nods eagerly, looking sad despite his smile, “I’m sorry you aren’t allowed. I think you’d make a fine one.” It was a sour note, Illidan was fated to be a Druid, but was barred from learning because of his attitude for power. It was fitting he chose to be a mage.

“I’d like to think so.”


This spot, the spot where the evergreen incased a meadow of thick tall grass, it was the spot they would go three more times.

The second was after a long time, a time Asch nearly forget Illidan’s face. She sat petting the grass and touching the wild flowers.

Illidan broke through, a stranger of himself. Asch was alarmed, staring at the deepened skin colour and the tatted cloth covering his eyes. “Illidan?!” She cries, worried sick. Illidan jerks to her voice, huffing in pain. “What’s- what’s happened?! What’s wrong with your eyes?!” Asch pulls his, labouring his body to the grass bed. Holding him as if she lost him.

Illidan wheezes, covered in sweat, “you... you aren’t afraid?” Asch frowns, what a silly question. “Afraid? Of what?” She pulls his hair free, seeing the stress it put on his head, the knot far too tight to be comfortable.

“Of me!” His voice had dropped, as if it was damaged, “why would I be afraid of you?” All too suddenly he yanks out of her hold, ripping the cloth from him face, “this is why!” Asch was startled, always pushed back by the sheer might of his movement.


Illidan has lost his warm golden eyes, in place were sockets a blazing fell. As if the ooze was what was left of his eyes. “Oh... Illidan,” She says, so sad. “What has been done to you?” Illidan seems to struggle with her words, frowning and raging at the same time, conflicted.

“Why aren’t you afraid?! They were! Tyrande was!” Asch feels further pain, she attempts to pull him back, cooing softly “I do not fear you Illidan, there is nothing to be scared of.”

That seemed to extinguish the flame, Illidan collapsed in her embrace, hugging her so tightly she couldn’t breathe. It was only moments before he let go, but she did not catch her breath. Illidan shoves himself forward, catching her lips in a harsh and rushed kiss. It was full of pain and boiling anger, teeth and lashing tongue.

Asch is shocked, gripping his chest with claw like nails that didn’t seem to hurt him.

Illidan tears away, gasping into her throat.

“S-stay,” He pleads.

And she does.

The last Asch will ever see of him comes the day after their shared kiss. She of course did not know.

Illidan has come again, as he promised. His clothes were meant for war, the clock on his back held the symbol of Blackrook. Asch smiles anyway, not the least bit unsettled by the greenish hue the sky had be given.

There was a moment he paused, standing tall and looking down, an easy smile on his face. “Your hair looks beautiful with Lily flowers in it,” he muses, “fitting.” Asch giggles, shaking her hair, “there are none- but thank you.” Illidan lumbers down, clipping his mantle off.

“I’m going to war,” he tells her, looking into the evergreens. Asch wasn’t going.

“I know.”

“I may not come back.” He sounded far less worried ten he should about that.

“Come back,” she stresses, tearing up. Illidan glances at her, “Illidan come back!” Asch wasn’t sure she could demand anything of him, lately his letters have been short and rushed, like it was a chore to assure her his wellbeing.

A chore to see her.

“Why?” He challenges, a bored expression.

“Because I don’t want my love wasted on a dead man!” Asch snarls, all tears and teeth. Illidan’s dead eyes widen in what had to be shock. “You shouldn’t give it too me!” He hisses, looking away.

“Why not?!” She challenges.

“I’ve none to give to you.” That hurt. She knew. All of it was for Tryande. None was spared for her. Asch masked her pain.

“Give me something else, than.” Illidan stares at her, unsettling something inside her. “You’re going to regret asking this.” He tells her, Asch tilts a brow, “will I? Why? If you’re to die then what will I regret?” Illidan moves, almost like a big cat stalking prey in the grass. Asch lets him move, lets him shadow on top of her.

The kiss was mean and hurried, like the last one he gave her. Asch decides to be meaner, yanking at his hair, almost ripping it from his skull until it came free of its tail. Illidan only groans against her lips, slotting between her open legs.

Asch vaguely realizes he’s moving her, placing her a top his discarded cloak before he begins undressing her. Asch didn’t have much to lose, a dress that was pulled off her head and plain panties. Illidan savagely damages her throat, marking it to his satisfaction until he moves lower, Asch digs her knees into his sides, hating the scratch of his leather and armour. Illidan moves his mouth over her nipples, licking and nipping until they budded under the attention.


Asch felt the shocks go right between her legs, a pool of interest already stirring in her belly. Asch tugs at his armour with her knees, trying to toe his pants off. Illidan parts for a second, but she’s already mewling for more attention. The only thing in her mind was that Tyrande had never gotten this. It was a sick jealousy she knew.

It wasn’t fair. Tyrande was not interested in Illidan or what he offered. Asch didn’t understand why, he was capable and clever. Handsome as sin. He was by no means proper like she liked, but didn’t every girl like a little bad? Asch knew at this very moment it was bad. Maybe Illidan had his fun with a few girls before, it was the only explanation for how he knew what to touch, but Asch didn’t.

Asch wasn’t allowed to touch or explore. That her flower was to be plucked by her husband. Not a man that didn’t share her love.

Dread filled her stomach where pleasure was absent, was this pity? Did he know? Was this just his way of quieting her?

Illidan nips harshly at her hip bone, grinning now at her, “are you bored?” He must have mistook her vacant look for vapidness rather than sickness.

Asch swallows, shaking her head, “no.. no I... I’ve- Illidan I’ve never done this before.” A smug, proud and annoying smirk comes in response, “good.” What was good about it?


Asch figures there wasn’t anything for it. Illidan already had her love and affection, What was her virginity too? It wasn’t as though she had anyone else. Asch felt very alone as he draws her legs up, wondering truly if he was going to die. Wondering if he was going to come back, and if he’d even come back too her. Many were spending the last hours of freedom like they were, couples, lovers and families holding each other, becoming one. After all. No one is saved from war.

Was she nothing to him? Was his interest solely because she didn't turn him away the day Tyrande and Malfurion had? Was that the only line of life strung between them? Asch thought it was more, thought there was at least friendship, but amoug his waning interest was a gap nothing could ever heal. Illidan’s words became poison and forced.

But she could have this, nothing not even he could ruin this. Asch could be happy with this moment, if it was to be the last.

His cock opens her, a fowl whine comes from her mouth as a hot purr slides from his. His hips press hard against her ass, a blissful look upon his face. The pain is horrible, the slow rock of his hips making it unbearable. Asch makes her displeasure known, clawing at him like a vengeful cat.

Illidan is biting her throat, drawing pain somewhere to distract, cooing words of praise that make it all worthwhile. His movement become more rapid, steady despite the speed of it. Soon the promise of pleasure is delivered, Asch moans as he spears her, egged on by her interest.

There was a harsh, dissociative feeling. Asch knew completely well he was using her.

She was too.

It was poison, complete and terrible poison.

Asch took more.

“Illidan...!” She pulls at his loose hair, forcing him forward. The blind was lost and the dead sockets stare at her like gaping wounds. She shutters, a whole different reason rearing it’s head.

How will she move on? Will the pain dull? It hadn’t since the day she fell in love, would it be better if he died? Then there will be no hope, no future. This doesn’t comfort her.

It ends all to soon, the sudden rush and his hiss. The wet feeling of his come across her thighs. The absence of his bodies warmth. Asch pants, a shadow slithers off her. He yanks his hair back up, tying it tightly.

He did not bring his blind. Asch pulls his cloak, lifting it around her, not bothering too move. A dry sob leaves her, but she makes no other sound.


Illidan stalks to the brush, swallowing a lump.

“I will regret this.” Illidan whispers, leaving the evergreen circle for the last time.

Yes, yes he will.


Tryande doesn’t ask why Asch had Illidan’s cloak, doesn’t ask about the scratches and bites on her bare shoulders or the messy look.

Malfurion swallows, feeling her pain in equal measure.

“Asch,” he mutters, beckoning her closer. Tyrande stays where she’s sat, watching her beloved walk with the broken girl.

“You’ll be leaving too,” she says, Mal nods “we will... Illidan didn’t... didn’t hurt you- did he?” She allowed him to do it. “No,” a lie. They both know it.

“He does love you,” Mal insists, Asch flinches away from him, “don’t!” Mal shakes his head, “it’s true! He doesn’t see it yet, but he does. If he comes back he’ll need someone. Please Asch be that someone.”

There was a feeling of betrayal, a clouded hatred, how could he ask her this? It was unfair. Asch was no stand in, wasn’t someone who would wait. She was not that desperate.

“Malfurion... if I... if I do this you have to promise me something.” He inquires, a tilt of his head.

“Train me.”

Chapter 59: Illidan dabbles 10

Summary:

Illidan Stormrage/original female characters

WARNING
Miscarriage

a good friend of mine gave these two a ship name Aschidan! Isn’t that cute!!!!

Anyway 10 dabbles just for him... crazy

Chapter Text

Illidan felt wet.

Not a good kind of wet, if there was any.

A fowl, sticky and wrong wet.


Alarmed, he opens his eyes, pulling up despite the groggy feeling.

What greets him in nothing short of horrifiying. Covering practically all the bed was black fel ooze and chunks of whiteish globs. What really startled him is the wretched sob to his right.

Illidan sees, but he doesn’t see. The drag marks on the floor, the crumple ball of his wife. The terrible stench of it all. “Asch!” He throws the ruined sheets away, feeling it on his skin.

Asch didn’t respond to him, she was bracing in pain, the ooze spilling from out of her. Illidan plants a hand on her back, Asch’s sob breaks into a pained wail, Edan is crying in his crib. Her hand is fisting the front of her gown, clawing at her belly. “H-hurts!” She manages through clinched teeth.

A wet plop resounds and Asch gives in, Illidan stops her from sliding into the puddle of vile ooze. “Velen,” He tells her, “going to Velen.”


There wasn’t much to be done at this point. All of it was gone now he was told. They can sleep in a new room, nothing was wrong now. A few pain remedies and a bath had fixed it.

Fixed it.

Illidan knew the Draenei was being clinical, he would have appreciated it if it wasn’t the circumstances they were.

A few ruined towels stuffed in a bin beside her was the only indication anything at all happened. Asch’s body was still convulsing, trying to expel further waste.

A miscarried fetus.


There was a vacant dead look across her pretty face, a sickly colour to her already pale skin.

Illidan had no words of comfort, because there was nothing he could say that would lessen this. Nothing he could provide that would stop the pain. He felt it too, the wretched tug, the overwhelming feeling of being too deep under water to swim back.

It felt like his lungs were crushed under a weight he couldn’t lift. Illidan takes care to make little noise as he walks over, a solid hand is placed on her knee. She vaguely turns, seeing him but not really. Illidan offers nothing but his presence and tears come anew, to both their faces.

They had a long time, sitting quietly. Another convulsion drenched the bed in pure transparent ooze and Illidan takes care to lift her off and pull the towels. He helps Asch back into a new gown, throwing the ruined one away with the towels. Lastly he puts a kiss to her forehead, ready to return to motionless silence until she speaks.

“Edan...” Illidan quiets her, gripping her hands, “do you want him? He’s with my brother.” Asch nods frantically, desperately. Illidan licks his licks “okay. I’ll get him for you.” Illidan leaves her, alone like she must feel.


Mal was standing with Edan, bouncing him as he slept soundly. “Mal,” Illidan calls quietly, the Druid looks shocked too see him. “Is she-“ “for now she’s fine... it was a.... miscarriage.” Dread filled his aged face, absolute sorrow overtaking his brother, “Illidan I’m so sorry.” Illidan sighs, heart clinching, “it’s alright... I knew it may be an outcome” Mal nods slowly, “no less painful.”

“No. No less.” A beat passes.

“Here, I assume he’s what you came for?” A careful smile, Illidan takes the sleeping babe.


Mal makes a short noise, getting his attention again, “Tyrande wishes too see you.” Illidan snarls, baring his teeth, “she wants to have words, nothing more brother... I believe her intentions better... than before.”

“Now?” Mal bites his lip, “um.” Illidan glared flatly, “fine. A moment than.”

Asch is sitting upright, looking at her hands, almost statue like.

“My love?” This prompts a motion, “I have Edan,” Asch takes him, wraps him in her arms, burying her face, “thank you.” Illidan leans over, kissing her head. “I only wish I could do more- I’ll be back shortly I have too take care of something.” She gives him a weak smile, seeking his kips for one last kiss before he leaves.


In place of Malfurion was Tyrande. Her dress was long and piled on the floor. “Illidan... I just... I heard.” It wasn’t a great start.

“A relief too you I suppose.” He bites. Tyrande looks wounded, “Illidan I was wrong... life is precious I shouldn’t have said such things before.” Illidan crosses his arms, a hateful scowl rests upon his face.

“I moved on.” He hisses, “after all of it. I forgot you- and you... you have the nerve to tell me my child is a monster. That my union is unholy and the woman whose only given her love to me is fowl!” Tyrande says nothing in defence, staring at the ground.

“We are too different.” She says.

“I know that now.” Illidan loved Tyrande so much. With everything he had. But... they would never see eye to eye. They were never alike. He wanted her because she was this unreachable, beautiful creature. One that was strong and fierce, truly a goddess.

But they would never be good for each other, they were poison, they would clash. It was not right. And after all this time Illidan finally realized his foolishness. But there was always a place in his heart for the love lost between them.


He could now aleast give her forgiveness.

“I’ve no love left for you,” he still snaps, curling his lip. A sad smile crosses her face, “I know. I never deserved it in the first place. She did.” Asch. Illidan didn’t deserve that love either.

“Your child is beautiful, Illidan.” She tells him, meeting his gaze. “I hope he is just like you.” That touched a deep part of him, his guard drops and allows to feel something more than anger.

“Well... not just like you-“ Illidan rolls his eyes, snorting despite her tasteless joke.

“Friends?” That seemed so foreign now.

“Friends.”

Illidan leaves with a weight lifted from his chest. Edan was awake, cooing and squealing up at his mother, who finally smiled. “Asch.” His wife smiles up at him, “look Illidan!” The demon looks, chuckling as Edan flexes his wings.

“Ada!” Edan squeaks, reaching for him. “Yes little one I am here,” Illidan leans forward, nuzzling his forehead into Edan. His baby coos, rubbing back and soaking the affection. Asch in turn kisses his horn, smiling as he turns too look at her.

“I’ll will never let this happen again.”


Illidan took them home, the home they made in the Grove. Velen knee he would see nothing of Illidan for a while and accepted the fact, so it allowed for peace. If only for a few days. Asch deserves to be close to nature, something alive and breathing. Illidan for now refused to take her anywhere else, spend his time doing anything else but please her.

A rare moment had them laying in the bed, sheets ruined and bodies sweaty. Asch is contently tracing his scars. “Could it have been like this?” She asks, wounding aloud. “All those years ago, if you came back? Could we have picked up the pieces before all this?” It was a very good question. Could he?

Illidan thought about Tyrande, thought of what he used to be like and how time and imprisonment had changed him. Illidan spent a lot of his time angry, than sad and than nothing. Sometimes he thought about life, back in his cell where he paced back and forth.

A lot of the time he thought about Tyrande, what he would say to turn her in his favour.

And than, he thought about Asch.

The difference between the two women running in his mind was, Tyrande was something he wanted, but didn’t know what to do with. All of his thoughts centred around obtaining her love, but doing nothing with it.

Asch, he imagined first apologizing, than wondering if the love she had was still real and what to do with it.

What he decided had angered him, he decided he could have loved her, if none of what happened did. Illidan decided he could marry her, give her children and a home.

Illidan never thought about this with Tyrande. He never wanted children with her, never thought of a home or marriage. He just wanted.

But Asch. He wanted to give Asch everything. Once he realized this it was far too late and when he returned too this world it was all he could think about.

“Yes,” He tells her after some thought, “we would have.” Illidan saw the hesitation, the wound opening in her eyes. “I thought about nothing else but that for a time.” A long time. Hours in a day, weeks on end. Illidan thought about all he could do for her, what they could have if he just returned from war.

“Tyrande was something... something I felt I wanted. But you... you made me want everything.” Illidan glances over at Edan, Asch realizes what he means.

Illidan snuggles closer, closing his eyes, remembering his thoughts from long ago. Illidan remembers wanting to go back, walk in the glen after the battle was over and find her. He wanted to tell her how stupidly cruel he was and that if she wanted, to begin anew. Illidan remembers feeling a sick, desperate need too fix all he had damaged.

Go where all the soldiers and their women were and marry her hastily under the moon. Finish what he started, but devote all he had.

Illidan feels foolish, he realized too late and cost himself a more humbled life.

“Would you want that? Rather than this?” Asch bites her lip, Illidan would not be upset if she said so, This life was not exactly the best, but it was what he could provide.

“No,” she mutters softly, hugging him tighter. “This life is just fine.”


Illidan lets his mind wonder, absently petting her naked back. Reminiscing in the long forgotten wishes and dreams he had. Illidan would come home in this illusion, walk through his front door and see his beautiful wife, the one who chose him- still chooses him even for all his faults.

Illidan sees two babies, Edan older then he was now, silver eyed like his mother and paler. There was another boy, white haired and yellow eyed. He was staring up st his father with the wonderment permitted to babies.
Illidan sees his wife, hair hastily piled atop her head, cheeks puffed and flush. Asch waddled toward him, smiling and welcoming him home. Illidan imagines himself smiling, kissing her softly before bending to his unborn child and kissing them.

The night he helps make dinner, feed the babies and put them to bed. Illidan curls up with his wife, much like now and they talk about their days. Illidan would rub her belly and kiss where she let him, excite lovemaking before falling asleep to do it all over again.

It was a simple life, one she deserved more than what he gave her. A life where he could keep giving, providing. Rather than taking and demanding. Illidan knows he should have left well alone. He should have never gone to the grove that day, he should have left the beautiful mother of his child to her fate instead of force this one upon her. It was cruel beyond measure.

But love was never anything but cruel.

“I like this life,” Asch perks his attention, “it’s one with you. I would trade a thousand simpler lives just to have this one with you.” It warms his heart how devoted she was, “no one can take what we have away now.” No, no one could. Not even Tyrande.

Illidan would follow this women to death if it meant spending a few more seconds in her presence. Illidan would rip apart worlds, slay millions of it meant keeping her safe. “I would do anything for you.” He finished aloud, determined like never before.

Asch giggles, “I suppose it’s a good thing I don’t want much than.” Illidan rolls to his side, searching her face as she smiles at him effortlessly. “I’m sorry I made you wait for so long.” Asch cups his face, hushing him.

“I’ll keep waiting Illidan,” there are tears in her eyes, “you don’t have too, not anymore. I’ll never make you wait for a single thing.” Asch sniffles, laughing through her tears,
“Maybe there is one thing...” Illidan smirks, “Oh?”

Asch climbs his hips, manipulating his hands until they rest on her hips, bunching her silk night dress around her thighs. “Wherever you go, you won’t leave me behind.” Illidan felt his heart become swallowed by pain, “my biggest regret was hearing the stories-
And not being in them. Not being there for you...” Illidan frowns, “I know the truths and what I was told. What Tyrande... what she tried too tell me.” Asch grips his hands, stressing his fingers with her own in a nervous habit.

“I know what you wanted- Illidan I know and I’m sorry you were alone- I’ll never let that happen again. Right or wrong I will follow you- even...” her voice breaks, a smile coated with tears, “even if you don’t want me too!” The conviction her in her voice has his mind stirring.

“Okay.” Illidan can only manage, the thick lump struck in his chest swells as she cries, suddenly so happy.

They bask in each other for a long time, Illidan staring up at her, watching her swipe away the tears, smiling at him with all the love in the world. “When...” Illidan begins, “when this is finally over, when the legion is gone from this world- I’ve no reason to fight anymore... I think it’s time we decide upon a future more... dull.”

Asch’s gasps and Illidan now thinks the tears falling from her face will never stop, but he chuckles anyway, quirking a brow. “Really?!” Illidan laughs, full of mirth “yes! Yes Asch, tell me what you want.”

There was a rush of words, Illidan couldn’t understand half of what she was gushing, so he plucked a few words, interrupting before she spiraled further. “A house? Where?” She wiggles, unable to contain her excitement. “In that little glen, surrounded by the trees!”

Illidan scoffs in disbelief, “it still stands?” She pouts, “I hope so... I haven’t been back there since the war-“ she makes a face, clearly upset again, “it might be burnt to the ground... well- can we live with our people? Edan should grow up with elves.” Illidan ponders this, imagining himself living in Darnassaus, living houses down from his brother- Illidan cringes.

“Mhm... I suppose- we are not living with Malfurion.” Asch lives with them now. Well. Her home was in Darnassaus, but since the legion invaded she’s been rooted in the grove. “What else do you want?”

She wanted to teach again, find students and train new adventurers, she wanted to learn the ways of alchemy and herbs. She wanted Illidan to continue teaching his hunters.

“I... I want more children-“ Illidan let’s the shock show on his face, “what happened... I know it could happen again-“ it would happen again. Illidan was a demon. It was by some miracle Asch got Edan far enough that he could live on his own.

“Asch... what happened with our son- it will happen again and again. You cannot carry a demon-“ “no no I know I can’t- it just has to be long enough.” Illidan scowls at that, “what if you miscarry again? I hate the pain it has caused.” Caused them both. Illidan isn’t foolish enough to believe it will never happen again. Edan was born early, this child never developed enough for a chance.

Turalyon won’t be there to save their next child.

“Isn’t it worth it?” She says in a small voice, “the chance to have a family?” Illidan eases up, “you are my family. You were enough and now we have Edan...” he sighs, shaking his head gently.

“But... if it’s what you want- we will try.”

Chapter 60: Lilli dabbles 1

Summary:

Illidan Stormrage/original female human

Only fitting my 60th chapter belongs to my friend.

*heart eyes* I hope you like your porn

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Cobblestone stung her delicate feet, the dank smell hurt her nose and the claws pulling her along punctured her soft skin.


“What...” says a nasty voice from afar.

“Have you brought me?!” The purple demons flex and bat their wings, banking them just enough to shake her hair wildly around her face. Upon the dais, looking down with a lazy expression was the lord of the black temple. Illidan Stormrage tilts his massive head, hair swaying from one side to the other.


The horns prickling his face twitch with his cruel smile, his mouth full of terrible teeth. “What is it?” He asks with waning interest, one of his demons answer, “a human master, she was prowling around the temple outskirts.” Lilli shutters, panting openly. Illidan regards her.

“Was she? A simple pink skin evaded you until she came to the very outskirts of my temple?” Illidan snorts, amused but dangerous. The demons stiffen, the air was thick with tension. “It seems replacements are in order.” They stayed tense as a bow string, until there was no pressure on either side of her.


Almost instantly their bodies fall, blood coats Lilli’s face and she grimaces, gasping gently. “Now,” his powerful voice says, getting her attention. His mighty hooves boom into the stone below.

“What to do with you?” Lilli can only stare at his impressive shadow.


The lord himself plucked her from the ground, willing her to stand on her own, examining her like a pet. His claws poked at her soft flesh, scratching it because of the shear deadliness of them. His horns almost hit her as he bent, reaching her height by curling downward.

He sniffed the flesh of her throat, Lilli could feel him smirking, “your heart beats so quickly- are you nervous?” Terrified, but something inside her snapped back, “your heart doesn’t beat at all!” The snarl she tried was lost by the raw pain she felt in using her voice after days without doing so. His chuckle reaches every depth of her, his eyes bleeding into Lilli as he watches her.

“I can assure you it beats little girl, don’t be naive. I am cruel because I wish too be, but because I’m absent a heart.” Lilli’s heart was thundering in her brain, beating faster then a speeding stallions steps.

His finger traces the soft plain of her cheek, again scratching the flesh. “I think I may just keep you.” He tells her with an affirmed, curt nod. “Yes. Yes I will keep you.”


There was a sliced noise, wings cutting the air as Illidan flapped his impressive tattered wings. Amused as he watches her struggle and glare at him. “Are all humans so little?” He muses more than asks, circling the bed he perched her upon. “I know little of your people, tell me girl do you breed the same?” The question has her sputtering, “w-what?!” She croaks. Illidan patiently stares, brow raised.

“W-why?!” A small scoff escapes him.

“Because I want too fuck you.”

Illidan didn’t ask anything more as he crawled over her, still a curious, cautious look about him. “You look the same...” he comments in a mutter, making use of his razer claw and slicing the tattered fabrics of her once expensive robes, “do you act them same?” A softer side of his finger brushes along the pinkish flush nipple. Reaction came before control and Lilli’s hips buck, toes flexing as he looks at her with a smug posture.

Illidan pries her legs apart, interested now in the little mounds. He palms the other, rolling his finger along the soft flesh. Again he almost hit her with his horn, his head bent forward, tongue poked out to lave at the flesh. Lilli wiggles, struggling to keep quiet. Illidan isn’t concerned with it, allowing her to fidget as he mouths at her breasts.

The hand kneading the flesh leaves her, ghosting over her soft belly, Illidan hums darkly, The greenish hell of his eyes stare at her with devious delight. “You’re wet.” Shame flares on her face as his finger ghost over the flesh, teasing her. His tongue laps again and Lilli bucks into his hand, forcing his fingers against her cunt.

“Oh!” She hisses, turning her face into her shoulder. Illidan chuckles again, pushing his fingers down to dip in her slit, gathering wetness and swirling it into a mess. “I’ve barely touched you, humans are very wanton, aren’t they?” Lilli responds by mewling, too embarrassed for anything else.

His fingers stroke, but his claws never touch her. Illidan licks her chest, sucking the flesh softly before nipping gently. His long fingers swirl and rub, her cunt gaps, clutching at nothing. “Don’t worry,” he whispers, biting her neck “I’ll fill you soon.” Lilli shouldn’t have felt as relieved as she did.

His cock was far bigger then any she had seen, far more impressive too. The way his hand curled around himself, coating his veined cock in oil was almost hypnotizing. Lilli couldn’t look away from it.

“Spread your legs.” He commands, in a tone that leaves no argument. Lilli wasn’t going to supply one either. Illidan had a broad chest, but his waist wasn’t so thick and he easily fit between the opened legs. Illidan coaxed them to rest on his hips. Lilli was surprised you how warm his leathery skin was.

Lilli expected the stretch, but wasn’t ready when it actually came. At first the blunt head of his cock slid inside without issue, the shaft of it was the more painful part. Lilli certainly let him know, huffing and pushing him away. “Hush,” he bites, voice faltering in pleasure. Inch by painful inch he invaded her, the stiff warm organ widening her more then she ever knew possible. Illidan let go a long purr go as he stilled and something inside fluttered and the pain of the stretch melted a little. Like it had given way, her walls contracted, settled and accepted his massive cock.


Lilli whines, unsettled. Illidan licks at her again, small praises escaping his lips. They fell short as he moved and the drag of his cock awoke the noises she was hiding earlier. It was a mix of relief and longing. Illidan cants his hips, picking a slow rhythm and building toward a quicker lurch of his hips.

Lilli grips at her restraints, digging her head into the pillow, a grill cry easing from her lips and Illidan grabbed a her plush thighs, squeezing them as he abused her with his cock.

The roll in her stomach unraveled and clinched, cunt fluttering around him. “Gods!” She suddenly belts, feeling a rush like wave collapse over her, drowning everything out, the moans and hisses came in bouts, she couldn’t keep her mouth shut as he fucked her through the orgasm, completing his own inside her. It felt hot and sticky once the stars faded, the fullness of his softening cock giving way for his oozing come. Illidan eases away, backing up just enough their connection severed. “Yes,” he purrs pleasantly.

“I am never letting you go.”

Notes:

EDITED
Nov 8/2017

Chapter 61: Rommath dabbles 2

Summary:

Rommath/original female blood elf

Ayyy elves

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Halduron had been a bother, pestering him about what had happened at the Nighthold, as if it was his business. Rommath wasn’t in the mood to indulge his prying and said as much, “It’s none of your concern!” He spits, arms crossed, Hal keeps pushing, “Was she interested? Did you want too see her again? Did you fondle each other in the font?”

Rommath sheaths, grinding his teeth, “None of your concern as I have said. I was only indulging a silly girl with silly dreams!” He didn’t mean to bite like that, Hal looked a little scandalized.

A soft thunk made its way to all three lords ears, Rommath sees a flower on the ground, wilted. Beside was the bell of a dress and further examination reveals Asch, tears streaming down her pretty face.

Rommath freezes in shock, helplessly watching as she spins around and bolts from the spire. Lor’themar plucks the wilted lily from the floor, surrounded by her tears. “You’d best to see this fixed Grand Magister.” It wasn't a request.


Rommath hurries out of the spire, “Asch!” He shouts, watching as she stumbles through a crowd. It parts for him, he easily catches her, grabbing onto her waist as she trips again. “Let go!” It was becoming a scene, “Let me go!”

“Asch let me explain-“ she pushes at his hands, crying furiously, “I only said that to quiet Halduron! It wasn’t true!” Rommath made her turn in his embrace, making her look at him, look at the flower in his hand. Rommath brought it to life, using his magic to make it beautiful again.

“You’re lying! Let me go!” Rommath lets her wrench away this time, stumbling from the sudden lurch. Rommath lets her run away again, a sudden pain in his heart.


The trip back was long and painful, the look Lor’themar gave him was awful and Halduron ignored him. Rommath takes his place, standing silent and tall.

But he was wilting, just like the flower.


Asch never felt more stupid in her life. Rommath was the Grand Magister, of course he thought she was silly. She did have silly dreams. She was a silly, stupid girl.

Asch wipes her eyes until they were raw and puffy. Stupid, she thought again, I’m so stupid! Asch should have known that he wouldn’t be interested in entertaining the idea of courting her, or was foolish to approach him at the party the night before the last. In the hold he was so sweet, he gave her a beautiful flower.

All Asch wanted was to know how to care for it, Rommath said it would never wilt because of magic, but the morning after the petals shriveled and she thought he would help her. Asch wanted to see him, wanted to show off her beautiful dress her mother had just finished sewing. Asch thought he would like it, but he called her silly. As if he was forced to spend time with a child and indulge their silly whims.

People said he was as cold as he was handsome and Rommath was so handsome. His hair was thick and dark, soft to the touch. Asch liked the black colour, so different from the blond or reddish yellow colours most elves had. He had a clean shaven face that she liked to kiss, Rommath even kissed her. Walked her home... she thought he wanted to court.

Thoughts of a silly girl.


Asch hisses, angry. Her ears twitch, someone was coming. Asch picks up her dress, leaving before she was found.


There was a mighty thud, one that got the attention of all three of them. “High Priest Lightbleeder!” Hal shouts, bowing immediately. Rommath swallows harshly. Priests, like mages had three sides. Healing and shielding.

And unspeakable power.


The black purplish wisps were the first warning, the void swirls in his eyes were the next. The last was his direct, unblinking stare. Rommath has only ever seen void priests in training, bright purple children who can’t stop themselves from floating off the ground or controlling their voidlings.


This however was a master of shadow magic.

“Would you like to tell me what you did, Mage- or must I pry it from you?” Even his voice was clouded and fowl, as if a old god had worked its way into his very soul.

“What has he done?” Lor’themar inquires, sounding rather nervous. The high priest swipes his eyes toward his regent lord. “My only daughter left hasn’t been home since this morning. Last I knew she was with him.” A very accusing finger is pointed at Rommath.

“Asch... Asch is your daughter?” Hal sounds baffled, unhelpful as always. “Yes.” He hisses back, glaring. “Last I knew she was coming here to ask you to fix the mana flower you gave her. She had told me she would be back after lunch. Asch told my wife she wished to have it with you. She should have been back hours ago.”


Rommath feels dread in his stomach, bowing quickly as the void-ridden eyes found his again. “I was most unkind- I said things I did not mean, high priest.”

“Then un-say them, grand magister and find my daughter or you are going to be held responsible if she isn’t found.”

The high priest stayed in the citadel with Lor’themar. Thankfully Hal had offered his assistance, if only to get away from the dark magic and gut wrenching unease one gets being close to void abusers. There was guess work in magic, but dabbling in such darkness was only for those who were mad enough to handle it.


At least having a Ranger general meant she would be easy to track down. So the two got to it, Hal grumbling all the while. “I cannot believe you’ve upset the high priest. Did you know he could do that? I didn’t... I thought he was just a kind old man... not terrifying.” Rommath doesn’t respond as he yanks the brush of a bush away, scowling at the forest.

“This is foolish! How can she be out here?” Hal gives him a flat look, glaring with a thin mouth. “The people I questioned said they saw her come this way. How many white haired elves do you know- especially ones with hair as long as her?! And look-“ he points to clear dents in the long grass, “Those wouldn’t be here. She came this way no one could follow.” Rommath does, huffing as he pulls his robes out of the beaches it caught.

The tracks lead far into the forest, Hal notices a torn fabric piece that was from her yellow dress. Rommath stuffs it away in his coat, ignoring the smirk he was given.

“What could she want out here?” He sighs aloud, Hal shrugs grunting as he pulls branches away, “To not be found.”

They travel a little further before Hal stops, ears peeking and swiveling to a sound Rommath couldn’t hear. “Up ahead- I’ll stay here. Just go straight.”

Rommath trips on a root ignoring the snort behind him. There wasn’t a big spot, the trees blotted out the setting sun, but Rommath could see.


Asch was on the far side of the opening, petting a bush of rough looking leaves, hair a mess and full of twigs, leaves and sap. Still it looked shiny and beautiful. Rommath clears his throat, shocking her.

Her face was puffy, completely full of tears and bloodshot eyes. Her lip turned “Go!” She commands, her voice cracking, “Asch...” she snarls at him, wiping her eyes. “Asch please- your father is worried and I’m...” Rommath eases closer, holding his hand out to her.

“I’m sorry I was foolish. I shouldn’t have said such things... I didn’t mean them-“ he grinds his teeth, feeling awful. “I shouldn’t ask you to, but will you forgive me?” There was hesitation in her face, fresh pain.

But than he felt the warmth of her hand in his, “You called me silly...” she mutters, not meeting his eye. Rommath pulls her up, using his other hand to brush her cheek. “No, I am. I am a silly man who has hurt a beautiful woman.” Rommath pulls the yellow tatters of her dress from his pocket, Asch gasps. Rommath bends down, holding the fabric by the rip.


It was a simple fix, the fabric threaded back together, astonishing her. Rommath knew it shouldn’t, but someone who hasn’t seen the most basic magic in action would find simple light spells amazing as a rain of fire.

“Will you come back with me? Your father is waiting in the spire.” Asch nods, taking his arm, “and... accompany me tomorrow- I would like to make it up too you.”

“I would like that.”

Notes:

EDITED ON
Feb 26, 2019

Chapter 62: Lor’themar/Arthas dabbles 3

Summary:

Lor’themar Theron/original female belf

WARNING
Mentions of rape
Trauma

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Things got better, much better than they had ever been. Asch had recovered from the horrible incident involving the Lich King and his death knight while Lor’themar nurtured the path.

It was toward the end of the festival, with only two days left. Elves were paired up and married off, some pregnant but most definitely happy.

Lor’themar was smart in his work, his fingers gentle as he swiped the red paint across her belly. Asch giggles, claiming he was tickling her. Lor’themar has tried time and again to get his wife pregnant, she wanted a baby even when she was promised to Kael. A little golden haired boy, and still. The idea never changed. Except the name and hair he would have.

“Who gave you this hedge-witch remedy?” She asks in a pleasant voice, running fingers through his hair. The ends of the silver finery were coated in red paint, noticeable and silly. Lor’themar chuckles around the pipe in his mouth, pulling it free to push smoke up in the air.

“Why the grand hedge-witch himself,” Lor’themar jokes, Asch laughed shaking her head. Rommath, though the expense of the joke, was very helpful when Lor’themar came about his concern. While Hal was trying not to get anyone pregnant, Lor’themar was a little desperate.

Rommath coaxed him into his study and explained that their equal stress and duty made it hard to conceive, especially after the trauma they faced as well as the moon thistle tea Rommath gave Asch so she wouldn’t end up pregnant by the wrong man.

Moon thistle worked as a precaution, preventing any chance of a unwanted conception. Rommath mentioned it could still be working in her system and preventing Lor’themar’s own seed from taking. So instead of the usual methods he gave Lor’themar herbal paint and a picture to trace from.

His fingers were red to the knuckle, but it would dry. It was natural and it wouldn’t hurt anything. Asch pokes at his already dried work, feeling the bumps of the clotted paint, “What does this do?” Lor’themar paid attention when Rommath explains the use and result, but was confused by it.

Even still, he tried to explain. “It’s suppose to trigger ovulation, trick your womb- I think... Rommath wasn’t very clear.” Lor’themar puffs around his pipe, billowing grey clouds in his confusion. Asch giggles, making intrigued noises. “‘Trick my womb’ how silly... in any case I will thank him for helping” there was a knock at their door, which annoyed Lor’themar greatly. It was the Creation Festival they were not to be disturbed. “Go on,” his wife prompts, covering her naked chest, careful not to smudge his still wet work. Lor’themar snarls gently, rubbing the excess paint into the palm of his hand before getting up.


“The world had best be ending!” He snapped as he swung open the door. The messenger had his eyes downcast, he was nervous and fidgety. “What?!” Lor’themar hisses, clutching the door. “It’s... it’s the Banshee Queen my Lord Regent- she’s here!” World ending indeed. Lor’themar heard his wife get up as well. Now he suppose he had to give Sylvanas an audience.

Lor’themar grumbles a thank you, snapping the heavy wooden door shut. “What could she want?!” He belts, yanking his discarded shirt from the floor. Asch shrugs under the lump of her dress, pulling it over her head. It would’ve almost hid the paint if not for the sheer fabric. Asch didn't seem to care about hiding it. “Would you like help getting the paint from your hair?” Lor’themar picks a chunk of silver hair up, looking st the matted ends coated with paint. “No,” he decides with a soft smile, “There is no need too look ceremony. It’s the Creation Festival after all.” Sylvanas is lucky he decided to see her, he didn’t have too.

All business including duties of Regent Lord were halted at the beginning of the festival, besides his duty to see the festival smoothly, Lor’themar had no other responsibilities other than to pleasure his wife. The capital was affectively paused. Sex was only everyone’s aspiration.

“Come come,” he said, watching Asch barely fix her hair with her fingers. “The warchief awaits.”

If Sylvanas found their state of dress funny she did not show it, like she did not show much of anything anymore. She stood there, a cocked brow, sizing up their appearances but did not comment. Hal was much the same, barely dressed and bored. Rommath looked the picture of presentable, but for a few hairs out of place. So he was busy this year too. Lor’themar would have to remember to pry.

“A pleasure as always,” He tells her, curtly nodding, “What is so important you came yourself?” Sylvanas never left Undercity, she sent her little errand ghouls to do her work rather than see it completed herself. “A matter of heart,” She says vaguely, tilting her head as if her own words intrigued her.

“Oh?” Is all Lor’themar says in response, waiting for her to continue. Sylvanas sways her gaze to the regent lady, blinking dull red eyes at her, “I know that paint,” She says, “It works.” Asch peers down, than smiles at her, “Glad to hear that, my Lady.”

“You won’t be to hear this,” Sylvanas states darkly, “I heard what happened in Icecrown,” she explains, hardly sitting on the topic, not offering condolences of any kind. “I have something you want.” A lazy gesture and from far behind the sound of clicking bones could be heard. Lor’themar didn’t know what was happening until it did, all at once.

Koltira Deathweaver was dropped in a bloodied heap at his feet, Asch had gasped and backed away, stumbling until Rommath came to her aid, hushing her and hiding her in his shoulder. Lor’themar turns in a rage, “Take her away from here!” He commands Rommath.

“Do not!” Sylvanas hisses back, “She decides his fate.” Lor’themar was furious. “How dare you!” He snarls, “if you knew what was done you wouldn’t ask her to stay!” Sylvanas snaps back, equally angered “I know better than anyone what has been done. It is no ones decision but her own!” Lor’themar was far too angry to really hear her words, “You bring him here like he is some gift we must thank you for- out! Get him out!” Sylvanas fixes herself, standing tall once more. The warchief nods to her company and they pull the undead elf from the floor and drag him away.

Lor’themar looks back to see his wife crying against the grand magister, clutching his robes with her fists and shaking. Hal had flanked behind her, worried. A gentle hand pressed to her back for comfort. “Sylvanas explain!” He had no care for titles, no care for formality.

“I heard all that transpired. What difficulties the house of Theron have had since returning. I came to possess Deathweaver only days past.” She was rather civil in her explanation, using a calmer voice than before. “It was not my justice to exact, so I brought him here. For you to decide his fate. Lor’themar it is a gift,” her voice is darkened, “A gift of vengeance.”

“I don’t want it!” His wife surprises, still holding onto Rommath, “I don’t want him here! I don’t want justice! I want him gone!” Sylvanas cocks a brow, “Fine,” she sounds rather displeased, “I’ll have him executed in the morning then.” A slow pass of dread before Asch spoke again. “W-what?! No! Don’t do that!” Lor’themar blinks in disbelief, turning on his heel to look at her. “Asch- what? You want him to live? After what he has done?”

Timidly she kneads the fabric of Rommath robes before releasing him and whipping her eyes, “No of course not,” she almost says too lightly, “He’s done nothing, it was Arthas, he had no choice but to listen.” Lor’themar is beyond struck by confusion, "But he hurt you!” Lor’themar knew better than to say the words. Asch wrings her hands, “That doesn’t mean I wish him dead-“ “My lady! My lady-“ A sick and twisted voice interjects, somehow Koltira had freed himself and stumbled in, Sylvanas and Lor’themar draw their weapons.

“Wait!” Asch cries, the arrow the Queen fires is aimed for his head, but in her shock it flies over Koltira’s head, “my lady I’m so sorry!” He cries, face wrought with stress and pain, “My actions were not my own- but it is no excuse for what I’ve done! I beg you for forgiveness even though I don’t deserve it!” Lor’themar pulls Asch behind him, sword pointed at his direction, “Silence!” His voice echoes through the spire.

There was still stumbling in her steps as she approached, Lor’themar turned slightly so she could cling to him. Asch took the whole of his arm and pressed her lips to his shoulder, staring at Koltira. “I don’t want your life.” She mutters loud enough so they can all hear, “Do you have a place in this world? Where would you go? If I freed you?” Lor’themar frowns, staring at wife with his still good eye.

“I... I don’t- I was a defender here...” Lor’themar was sick of his voice, lip pulled away from his teeth in a snarl. “I want... I want to serve the Horde my lady- in the Ebon blade.” A pass of silence before he was met again by the murmurs of his wife. “Go then- say nothing and go.” Koltira looks up at her with large eyes, mouth slack.

The death knight says nothing, stands and turns leaving before anyone can try to stop him.

“I want to leave now,” Asch tells him, courage wasted. Sylvanas hisses, annoyed “I find your rapist and you let him free?!” If Asch was hurt by the word she did not show it. “My... rapist was the Lich King. Not him. Thank you my Lady for coming here I am grateful.” Lor’themar feels her tug, curtly he nods before leaving with his wife.


In their rooms the pain was anew. Lor’themar picks his wife up, taking her to their bed and lets her cry. He stares at the paint in the little clay bowl, now dry.

 

Notes:

EDITED ON
February 7, 2019

Chapter 63: Rommath dabbles 3

Summary:

Rommath/original female elf character

 

Might be a bit shorter but I still like it!

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Rommath more and more found himself interested in just how many ways Asch could do her hair. The usually style she wore it in was long and without kinks, other times she piled it all atop her head in a very detailed braid, a fishtail, a bun and even pigtails.

Today she had it in a high pony tail, Rommath indulged in watching her move, watching it bob along with the happy bounces. Rommath especially loved when she turned to look at him and it whipped wildly.

To make up for his terrible behaviour Rommath asked to take her on a walk and then dinner. Of course she agreed and here they were, Rommath gladly being tugged along and Asch holding his hand like a life line. Rommath felt peace in his heart as she took them to a hill by a flowing river, etching as she undid her hair and sat on the grass. “Come come!” She asked, patting the spot next to her. Rommath went down, once again pulled into her warmth.

Asch had gotten her arms around his middle, nestling into his side with a great sigh. Her eyes flutters shut as the sun coated her in a beautiful light. Rommath holds her close, unbothered by everything.


Rommath began to wonder why he thought he’d never have this, why he sealed himself away from it. Courting was important, especially for him because of his blood line- Asch’s as well. Bloodelves commited to this way of life since the beginning, even as their time as highvelves. Courting was meant to express interest and formally stake a claim upon the one you wished to share a mate bond with.

Some chose to marry before the fact, but it was mere ceremony to the real commitment. That happened in private, unless the family was influential enough that it was required to be witnessed. One discrete elf standing in the shadows awaiting the bite, consummation and conception. Rommath heard of far more degrading things, at least now it was a professional rather then guests and perverted men.


Rommath inhaled, she smelt so nice, like honeycombs. They were suppose to be on the way to dinner but Rommath couldn’t bring himself to move from the position. Elves walked past them on the boulevards, looking over with a choice few bewildered expressions. Rommath was never one to just sit in grass, but now he couldn’t imagine not doing it.


Rommath allowed them too sit there until it was absolutely too late. “Our reservations are waiting,” he whispers, not wishing to break the spell. Asch sighs, flexing against him and tiredly humming. “Okay...”

Walking hand and hand, locked fingers swaying between them Rommath lead her to the restaurant.

For such a little thing she ate very largely. His lady liked red meat bloody and just cooked enough to be edible. Though when She allowed him a bite Rommath found it wasn’t as disgusting as he thought, neither bloody or stiff to chew. “My uncle was a Ranger, he loved cooking meat on an open fire- not very good at making it however...” her giggle was intoxicating and Rommath found himself grinning at her happiness.

“I came to have a taste for it- you must think it distasteful...” it was a little, however Rommath didn’t. “No, endearing. I rather like mine near charred.” This had her laughing delightfully again, but the truth. Asch ate it elegantly, she cut the pieces in small stripes, eating it without fuss.

Once or twice more she allowed him to have a few bites, Rommath picked things off his plate and offered it to her. It was so sickeningly sweet that Rommath didn’t think it was happening too him, but reviled in the awestruck looks they received.

Rommath ordered a red wine, one of his favourites, Asch had never had it, but commented on its rich bitter taste. “Is there chocolate?” Rommath nods around his glass, sipping it slowly. “Ah! I love chocolate!” Rommath chuckles, “Maybe you’d like the cake they have here. Full of chocolate layers.” There was a twinkle in her eye and Rommath hailed a waiter to get it.


Now, Rommath had seen many people intimately sharing food, but he also never imagined he would be part of it. The cold outer shell he portrayed came away when she pulled her chair closer and offered him the first bite.

Asch liked chocolate so much she made sure nothing but the syrup was left, “I should get you home.” Rommath knew her father would never like him, but he would endeavour to fix that. It was well past sunset as they walked under the lamp light. Chatting aimlessly until they came to her gates. Rommath stopped them, lifting her hands to kiss the flesh. The blush on her cheeks was well worth the glare he got from the open window of her house.

“Thank you so much for dinner,” she mutters shyly, Rommath shakes his head, “It was my pleasure... I would like to ask you to accompany me next week to a gala in the spire.” Asch gasps, clutching his hands harder, “I would love to!” Rommath willed himself to ignore the watching figure of her father in the window as he closed the gap, giving her a proper kiss.

Her lips were soft, yielding against his as she melted toward him. Chest pressed to his as he cradled her face. It was romantic, but chaste. Rommath steps away, bowing. “Until then my lady.”

There was a girlish air to her sigh as Asch shut her front door, leaning into it. “I take that it went well?” Her fathers voice came from the stairs, Asch glances up, smiling at him foolishly. “He wants to take me to the royal gala ada!” She allowed her herself to squeal and erupt into giggling.

Notes:

EDITED ON
Feb 26, 2019

Chapter 64: Illidan dabbles 11

Summary:

Illidan Stormrage/original female elf

 

This got way outta hand lol Really short chapter though, hope you love!

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

There was a terrible crack, Asch yells as she brings her staffs bulky head into the skull of an Eredar demon. Green blood splatters all over her face.


“Agh-!” She spits, swiping it out of her face, arcing her staff to slam into the ground. The heavy thing resounds off the cave wall, echoing madly. Asch inspects the area before moving toward the place she hid Edan.

“Hello baby!” Edan giggles, reaching for her, “let’s go see if we can find daddy- can you say daddy?” Edan babbles nonsense but Asch still praises him. Illidan’s garrison was much the same, another demon pack dispatched. Asch walked over the bodies until she got to him.

“You shouldn’t let him see such things,” he comments, ripping the head of the last demon in his hands. Asch snorts, “what does he see? He can’t understand what he sees- but he sees daddy- don’t you?!” Edan squeals again, excited. Illidan chuckles, cleaning his hands. “Bah!” He paws for his father. “Come here little one,” Asch gladly passes him to Illidan. “He’s getting very big,” Illidan says, playing with his chubby arm.

“Khadgar said he might grow quicker then average.” Elves in general aged different from humans. Edan would mature in half the time and be considered just as old as a human in their peak years. Illidan nuzzles Edan, purring when his baby mimics the motion.

Illidan regards his wife, frowning in thought before speaking, “there’s blood all over your face.” Asch goes cross-eyed trying to look, Illidan snorts, grabbing a wet cloth and rubbing it off. “And whatever is on your staff.” Illidan doesn’t touch it, curling his nose at the bits of flesh and dried blood. Asch giggles, “what did you get here?”

Illidan looks over the heap his Demon Hunters where making to burn, “Eredar mostly. Some demons. Yours?” Asch leans on her staff, digging it into the black dirt, “demons, some imps. Mostly lesser demons and Fel-guards.”

Damen!” Illidan jolts, confused. Asch stares, blinking. Edan giggles, “damen!” He says, again.

Illidan looks down, mouth open. Asch laughs suddenly, snorting loudly. “He did not just... Asch!” Illidan glares, lips tight. “Oh-“ she coos, “I didn’t teach him!” Still she encourages him, kissing his cheeks, “I wanted his first word to be daddy.”

“A-da!” Asch gasps, whining happily “oh sweetie good! Say demon, de-mon!”

Edan bounces, “de-mon!” Asch claps excitedly, “my good boy!” “Ada!” Edan obviously wants Illidan's attention, still his father scowls. “Oh Illidan be happy- his first word!” Illidan grunts, “It was demon. He needs off this planet- I need off this planet!” Asch coaxes Edan from him, cuddling their happy baby, “we do- do we have time to leave? We should look for a home in Darnassaus.” Illidan ponders for a moment, “I will make time. No doubt Tyrande will want to help- and Malfurion... insufferable.” Asch watches him run a hand over his face, making his blind go askew, she fixes it into place before speaking.

“I thought you were friends with them now?” Illidan scoffs, “Mal maybe. Tyrande doesn’t trust me. Her friendship with me is so she has an excuse to watch me.” From the moment she spoke words of peace between them he knew exactly what she wanted. She still believes him evil, she could not hide it when she looked at him. The tight shoulders and guarded face.


“Must it be Darnassaus?” He says with a air of pain, Asch pouts for him, teasing. “How often do you believe we’d be there? Since the war in Northrend I have hardly been home. Do you believe we’d ever have peace long enough to settle?” Illidan squints, “hm. I suppose you’re right. Fine fine,” he waves, “tomorrow we will go look.”

 

Notes:

EDITED DEC, 21, 2017

Chapter 65: Rommath dabbles 4

Summary:

Rommath/original female elf

 

Making up for the short chapters I’ve written have this mess

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

When he returned, Hal was smirking openly, brow cocked as if he was going to say, I told you so.

But to Rommath’s shock he said this instead, “I’m sorry for prying before. I take it all is well?” Rommath couldn’t remember the last time Hal had started a conversation without being stupid, this was actually quite grown up of him.

“Yes, it is,” Rommath decides to answer since Hal, begrudgingly was great help in finding her the other night. Hal nods once, still looking pleased, while Lor’themar rolls his eyes. “We’ll be seeing her again yes?” The regent lord was only ever concerned, hardly sought out gossip, it was that main reason why Rommath bothered to respond at all.

“You will be, at the Gala tomorrow night.” Lor’themar hums, “Ahh... wonderful are you bringing your courtship public?” The one thing Rommath hated was that. When couples decide to court they need to be seen together at an event. It was suppose to display interest and unavailability, but recently it turned into a spectacle to gossip about. Rommath was an important man, Asch was the daughter of the high priest, they would be the most interesting thing at that gala.

Unless something absurd happened.


“Are you bringing anyone?” Rommath inquires, Lor’themar smiles softly, shaking his head. Well. That would be absurd. Too absurd to save Rommath. “Afraid not. A host has no time for dates.” Lor’themar liked to personally have his hand in every event, if only to excuse himself from finding a lady companion to go with. Hal rolls his eyes, nudging the regent lord “You have always been boring.”

Lor’themar throws him a look of mixed shock and loathing, “Me? The grand magister is far worse then I- apologies Rommath.” Rommath snorts lowly, in good humour. “Ah-ah-ah he has a date! He’ll be the talk of the party. You however have gotten old and boring.” Lor’themar looks scandalized while Hal bursts out in laughter.

“Cruel beyond measure. I should have you fired for that.” This only makes the ranger laugh more.


The night of the gala Rommath decided upon better robes then his usual. He elected to keep his hair down in a very loose tail, the leather held taught at the bottom, while he cut his beard into a fine and soft point. The runes covering his neck stood out with the ones along his arms, but Rommath easily hid them under the long jacket he wore.

Asch did not say which colour she was going to wear tonight so Rommath opted for dark colours. Everything was mostly black, with hints of grey as an off colour.


The walk was far too long both ways and Rommath didn’t think she would like dirtying the bottom of her dress, so instead he commissioned a carriage carried by two black hawk striders to get her. Rommath held the single rose in his hand, twirling it between his fingers. The groves where the florist cut the throne off felt bumpy as it spun.

The carriage rolled in front of her gates and stopped so Rommath could get out. Confidently he walks out, knocking once because he knew someone had seen him approach.

The high priests beautiful wife answered the door, appearing very happy and well dressed, “Grand magister, lovely too see you- come in!” Her own dress swayed and caught at his legs, Rommath waits a moment before moving. “Hello mistress Lightbleeder. You are as beautiful as they say.” She giggles, fluffing her hair. “And you are as kind as I remember.” Rommath frowns before realizing, “Oh yes. At the church.” He had met the high priests wife the day after the attacks on Silvermoon. She was there caring for he wounded and looking after children.

Rommath had spent a good amount of time there, making sure his mages were safe, she was caring for them and they spoke for a good while.

“Come this way, Asch should be down in a moment. I must say I was shocked to hear my daughter would be going with you tonight.” Rommath knew it was odd, he usually did not bother to go to these at all, much less with a woman. “She’s very excited you should have heard her, giggling about dancing with you.” Her mother looks smitten herself with the idea, Rommath smiles gently.

“As am I. Your daughter has been very sweet to me, even when I didn’t deserve it.” A catch in her lips, “Ah yes, I heard about that little mishap. Her father was boiling. I am happy you’ve fixed it now at least.” So was Rommath.


“Nana! Where did you put my heels?” Rommath turns to the stairs, where Asch was scampering down. A moment of shock pauses her movements before a great blush dusts her cheeks, “By the door my love.” Her mother is laughing and Rommath almost does too. Asch looked absolutely distraught with him being there.

“Hello Asch, you look very beautiful.” Rommath bows deeply, the dress she wore- he should have guessed, was a bloody red encrusted with black opals. It had a heart shaped bodice, one that only covered her chest. The bare cream of her shoulders were covered in a pink tint. The bell of her dress puffed just enough to give her fairy like movements, even if they were jerky with embarrassment.

He could barely see her artfully coloured toes peaking from the bottom of her dress, also blood red.

“Thank you Rommath...” she mutters, seeking her shoes with a sheepish look. Her mother laughs again, “We spent hours finding the right dress, that’s your colour isn’t it Grand magister?” Rommath almost purrs, “why yes, it is. I must say it looks better on her.” Asch’s mother claps excitedly, “Give him a spin darling!” Asch went rigid, the light pink turning to a deep red, Rommath watches her twirl, enamoured by way the dress lifted off the ground.


“Ah! We best not make you late! Reylon! Your daughter is leaving come say goodbye!” Asch fixes her shoe on and grinds it into the carpet to secure it to her foot before peeking up. Rommath saunters toward her, smiling warmly. From the top of the stairs the high priest shuffles down, “Ah my little star, you look beautiful.” Rommath doesn’t touch her as he goes to stand next to her, Asch sighs happily, “Thank you ada.” She pecks his cheek.


Her father turns to Rommath, scowling lightly, “Have her back before too late.” Her mother coos, grabbing her husband, “Keep her grand magister he’s only teasing.” Rommath smiles politely, “I won’t keep her too long, high priest.”

“Best not.”

With that Rommath escorts her out to the carriage, to which she gasps, “Oh my it’s beautiful,” Rommath allows her inside first, seating himself across from her. “Have you ever been to a gala?” Asch shakes her head, “No I’m very excited!” He chuckles, “your mother told me as much.” This brings colour back to her face, “I’m very excited as well.” This makes her uncurl a little, smiling sheepishly again.

“However,” he comments, eyes darkening “we may be bothered tonight and you aren’t required to speak to anyone you don’t wish too.” Asch beams, reaching over to take his hand and squeeze it, “you’ll be there to save me I’m sure.” Rommmath would be.

Rommath escorted her through the great doors, watching in amusement as she looked all around her at the decorations and awing at the elves dancing. “Ah, Asch! Rommath!” Lor’themar caught them, “our table is in the back- just over there.” Every time they held a gala, Lor’themar would get a table in the furthest place so they wouldn’t be bothered by passing nobles. “Dinner should be served in twenty minutes. We’ll meet you there.” Rommath takes her there by going completely around the busy areas. Asch hold sinto his arm tightly, “I must confess I’ve never been in a place with so many people before.” Rommath pulls her closer, “it can be overwhelming but I’ll endeavour too make you feel better.” At this her face gets colour back, having been so pale.


Rommath finds Hal with Liadrin, laughing over something before noticing either of them, “Ah, hello you two. Come sit.” Rommath pulls her chair, intentionally sitting her between him and Lor’themar when he arrives. Hal would just pick her apart with questions. He still would, but at least they would have to pass over Rommath before getting to her.

“Ravishing my lady, truly. That’s just Rommath’s colour. Does this mean you’re publicly courting now?” Asch looks at Rommath, bitting her lip neverously, as if she didn’t know.

“Yes, we are.” She heaves a quiet sigh, Rommath thought it was sweet of her to be worried, though he has shown doubt before. “What a way to show it!”


Their dinner begun with a salad and than a steak along with potatoes. Lor’themar arrived halfway through with wine and less intrusive conversation. It started out by him asking about her father, how he was and if the church needed anything from the regent lord. Slowly the conversation went to her mother, sister, and finally Rommath. The grand magister knew it would, but found that since it was Lor’themar asking that it was right to answer.

“Have you been courted before?” Asch shook her head, then hesitated, “He may have thought so... nothing came of it.” Rommath sought her hand from under the table and laced his fingers around hers. “This is all very new for you then I suppose,” at this she nods, smiling. “Best wishes too you both then.”


Rommath curtly nods in thanks, eyeing around him. Despite having a table in the far back people still watch them. “Asch would you like to dance? I think I’ve made you wait long enough.” She beams, “Oh yes! I would love too!”


Asch was clearly nervous, the way she clung to him as they stepped away form the table, how her face was tighter as he looked around. “They’re staring,” she mutters. Rommath casts a glare over her head, watching as the eyes dart away immediately when they catch his. “Yes. They won’t cease.” Even by himself Rommath was an interest to people, if not for his skill but his oddity. Compared to his companions he was a dark blot among fine gold and silver. Asch was a white hair beauty, they were opposites completely.


Except she wore his colours, chose his colours. Chose him. Rommath almost threw that away. Thinking back on it he feels like a fool.

“Do you have many of these?” Asch jerks him from thought, she’s eyeing his neck, more specifically the red runes etched into his skin. “Yes I do, on my arms, back and legs.” Asch gasps in amazement as they come to stop in a good spot.


“How did you get them?” Rommath bows as custom before a dance and Asch curtseys, taking his hand back. They shuffle into position as the soft music starts. “I carved them myself.” She makes a pained, sick look “did it hurt?” His heart warms at her concern, “no, my magic made them. It makes it easier to channel spells this way.” Far easier when the raw magic gathers in the tattooed shapes.

“Was it an accident? Like how other mages get white hair?” Rommath makes a vague noise, dipping her along to the song, “at first it was because of my raw channeled magic, but I realized it was just a trade off in order to hone my abilities.” Khadger’s hair turned white because of his use of arcane magic, it slowly drained the colour from his rich brown head, while Rommath gained conduits that blaze alive at use.

“Oh, does that mean you’ll still get them?” Rommath shakes his head, spinning her outward before pulling her back in, “I was younger, foolish. I shouldn’t have so many as I do now. I learnt later in my studies that I could easily prevent it if I capped my powers. But I allowed the raw magic too stem over.” In truth he did not care. It was unique and even now he didn’t rein in his raw magic, but by now it had finished its work on his body and flowed freely between the red runes.

“I like them very much,” She mutters, bashfully looking away. Rommath purrs softly, holding her closer. “Do you?” He teases, Rommath wasn't expecting an anewer but was delighted when he got one. “I’ve never seen anything like it before, they are very beautiful.” Fire magic was beautiful, it only made sense it would do something like this.

“No one has ever called them beautiful before,” he knew they were, looking at them brought about pride. Other mages marvelled, calmed them interesting. But never beautiful. Rommath spins her again, looking over the slope of her chest to look into her fel green eyes, a moment of sheer affection ruin washes over him as she blushes terribly up at him.

“Do you have any markings?” Asch ponders, swaying with him lazily. They had given up partially on following the groups dance in favour of using this time to talk. “Well. None like yours but-“ She lifts the hand off his shoulder toward her face, wrist arched toward his eyes. A nasty looking patch of skin looks chafed badly.

Rommath hisses through his teeth, “I was trying to teach myself how to use light magic without my father. I burnt myself and came away with this.” It was no larger than a gold coin. “Do you know very much then?” Asch giggles, turning in his embrace and swaying to the beat of the music, “I do, I’m much better. I could have healed it but I choose to keep it.” Rommath raises a beat brow, “Whatever for?”

She laughs, leaning into him not caring to actually dance well anymore, “Same as you I suspect, a reminder.” Rommath jerks lightly in surprise, clever little elf.


They danced for a while, ignoring most people around them. The moon hung high and Rommath decided it was time to take her home.


“It was wonderful, thank you so much Rommath!” Asch was nestled into his shoulder. By now she dropped her hair and Rommath liked the way it looked now rather than before. He at some point lost his leather tie and Asch giggled and said he looked handsome with his hair down. Rommath had another hair tie, but decided not to put his hair up.

“Oh- what’s that?” Rommath peaks down at the floor, noticing red petals, “oh dear...” it was the rose, now ruined. “Was that for me? Oh Rommath...” still she picked the ruined stem up, “I’m sorry I didn’t realize I had dropped it.” Asch pouts, “it’s alright- I still have the mage flower you gave me...” she huffs lightly, “I don’t have the right magic to to keep it alive for long.”


Asch drops the stem, resting back into him, “I like it much better anyway.”

 

Her father did not like that Rommath was going into her chambers, but her mother pulled him away, letting them go on their way.


Rommath looked around and it was mostly what he expected, soft shell colours and neatness. Asch brought the flower to him. “Ah, I must find a better way to keep this.” Still his hands come up around it and come to life with arcane magic. He wasn’t as proficient with it, but he knew how to rejuvenate a simple flower. “I don’t mind this- it gives me an excuse too see you for not reason.” Rommath laughs gently, “I suppose it does.”


The flower fills with life and puffs out pollen, the colours freshen to its lively blue hues and pinks. Asch pulls it to her nose, sighing happily, “Thank you Rommath.”

“You’re very welcome.”


Asch puts the flower back into her window, caressing the petals before turning with a nervous bite of her lip.

“It’s very late I should-“ he pauses, trailing off. “Yes I- yes...” Asch it seems doesn’t know what to say either. Her fingers are pressed into the fine wood desk behind her, Rommath moves inches closer, not really sure of his plan.


Asch looks up with her fel green eyes, they were innocent and beautiful. Rommath cups her jaw, without reallizing it Asch had gotten on her tip-toes, reaching for his mouth with her own.


The kiss was heated, quick and consuming. Rommath pulled her by the waist against him, making her gasp and open her mouth. His tongue invaded her mouth, the back of his mind he can hear the subtle voice say; she tastes like honey. It makes him groan hotly.

Asch bends to his will, arcing up too meet him, there’s a hand tangled in her hair, gently pulling her head back. His other hand is warm against her waist, flexing and twitching. Asch whimpering again this lips, pulling at his jacket. Rommath emits a soft growl at her eager fingers, pushing her backward with his chest. Asch stumbles back against the desk, almost losing her heels.

The hand in her hair leaves and his lips let hers go, a twinkle in his eye is the only hint she received before the meat or his palms clutch onto the plush of her thighs. Asch almost squeaks too loud as he hauls her up into her desk, yanking her dress far enough up her legs to expose the creamy colour.


Rommath almost goes back to kissing her before his fingers catch something satin and soft. He peers down, thumb toying with it before realizing what it was. A bloody red satin leg band. Rommath pulls at one of the bows, letting it loose from her leg.


He has a good enough grip not to let it fall from his fingers. Pulling it up he eyes Asch curiously. Who can’t meet his gaze and blushes horribly. “Were you hoping I’d find it?” Asch rubs her fingers into his jacket, making a nervous sound, “Maybe...” she mutters. Rommath purrs immediately upon her answer, expecting she’d say something like that.


“How thoughtful of you. Red really is your colour.” Rommath teases, pocketing the lace before returning to savage her mouth with his own.

The grip on her legs has Asch dizzy, his body was so close and all she can do is open her mouth to his preying tongue. Rommath was leaning heavily into her, seeking to consume her, Asch fists his jacket, dragging it down his shoulders. He growls throatly, pulling her almost off the desk altogether, the dress bunches between them as Rommath endeavours to erase any space between them. Asch can feel his entire body slot against hers, his hips press into her pelvis.

The bulge between his stiff legs pressing absently against her middle. Asch shutters, wiggling by accident. It create friction even he hisses at. The bright swirl of lust ghosts in his half lidded eyes. Her face was so hot she thought she was going to catch fire. But that was more then likely the last thing she needs to worry about with a fire mage between her legs.


Rommath breaks away from her lips to breathe, he pants against her face, forehead pressing into hers. Asch shakes, watching how his hair curtains around her head, hiding everything else but him.

“Rommath,” She gasps, breathlessly. Her stomach feels as fuzzy as her brain does. Asch bucks into his hips, making Rommath bare his gritted teeth, hiss out a soft breath that almost looked like smoke from a dragons maw. His eyes snap open and are full of blazing fel fire. Asch yelps when his hips jerk back, instead of her puffy red lips he dives into her neck, kissing it with utter passion. Asch claws at his forearms, gasping uselessly.

The friction they create makes her cunt throb, clench and leak. Rommath grunts, swirling his broad hips. Asch bites her lips, hiding her cheek into her bare shoulder. Rommath takes the opportunity to lave at her ear. Asch’s hands twitch’s again his chest, moaning a long trill at the sheer pleasure his teeth make nibbling the out side of her sensitive ear.


His hips continue the onslaught, moving his mouth where it pleases him. Asch feel her stomach tighten, coil like a snake. Asch gasps again, whining out his name. Rommath doubles his efforts, sucking on the column of her throat, sucking a delicious mark.

It was beautiful to witness, the hopeless doe eyes, confusion as she came. How her head fell back, the way her fingers stabbed into his arms. Rommath mouths at her tendons, wetting her neck as she pants through her nose. Rommath slows his hips, listening to her catch her breath before kissing her fiercely once more before making space between them again.


“That... that was- that... was.” She babbles, Rommath chuckles, a gravelly sound that resonates in her bones. “Good?” “Yeah... yeah g-good” her voice breaks, blinking aimlessly. Chest heaving.

Rommath helps her off the desk, fixing her dress while Asch tries to fix the mess he made of her hair. Asch attempts to smooth the wrinkles her hands made in his suit before letting him shake the jacket out. He brushes his fingers though his hair before smiling softly.


Her parents somehow didn't suspect a thing. Her father commented on the fact it took a while longer then he thought, but bought the excuse that it was arcane magic rather than fire. And Rommath was no good at arcane magic.


He almost laughed and blew it.


“I hope to see you soon again my lady.” He chastely bows, kissing her hand. Asch thanks him appropriately. Rommath’s eyes widen, the blotch on her neck was clearly visible. He coughs, scratching the place on his neck to try and hint to her. Asch frowns but then gets the same expression on her face as he did.

“Oh um. Goodnight Rommath!” She says too quickly and too flustered. “Goodnight Asch.” As he turns the door is promptly shut and from the other side he can hear her heels banging against the wood stairs.

 

Rommath laughs loudly as he returns to the carriage, thumbing the leg band in his pocket.

Notes:

EDITED ON
Feb 26, 2019

Chapter 66: Kalec dabbles 1

Summary:

Kalec/original female character

 

Y’all want more dragon dicks?

 

(You’re getting dragon dicks)

Thanks for the almost 8 thousand views! It’s crazy!!! I love you all so very much!!!!

Chapter Text

One of the last broods of the Red flight had hatched, uncorrupted. The last of her children gifted too her by Korialstrasz. Three baby whelps, two boys and a girl.

Alexstrasza was so happy.

Astrasza, Gelstrasz, Reyestrasz.


Reyestrasz looked just like his father, took a high elf as his humanoid apperence, he was called Rey, while her second son called himself Gale and decided upon an night elven guise. The last, her daughter was more natural in her appearance, she kept her slightly reddish dark skin, horns and shimming scales against the tougher parts of her flesh. She called herself Asch.

Alex prided herself on teaching them all manners of things, from love to life, to death and sadness. She taught them about their father, how noble and brave he was, how gentle is voice was when he cooed too them still shelled safely in their eggs.

When they matured into young adults she taught them how to find mates and too be careful, what being a life binder meant.


Kalec joined the celebrations, each season dragon flights had ceremonies too show off their mates, eggs and whelps. This season the reds and greens got to peacock. Ysera and her flight made a total of twelve babies and seven unions. Alex’s flight made ten new babies and four unions, two were her own sons.

Gelstrasz mated with another red, but had yet to make any young. Reyestrasz mated last season and now had three little whelps too show off.

Astrasza hadn’t found a mate yet, but she was beautiful.

Kalecgos saunters over, smiling as he saw the little whelps puff little flowers from their maws, enticing a giggle from the beauty before him. “Excitable aren’t they?” They bobbed around her head, barely able to fly, “yes, they are my lord.” They squeak, even more excited now there was another dragon. “I see you are without,” Kalecgos didn’t want to sound rude, but it was rather odd the daughter of the queen hadn’t gotten attention or mated this season, or the last.

Or the last...

“I am...” she sounds unhappy about that, Kalec inquires, “none caught your eye?” Out of all Reds were the most extravagant, they dazzled mates with elegant displays. They would have swarmed her in the air, shown their prowess and potential.

She shakes her head, jewels and beads clink and scrap into each other. Most of the bangles hung off her thick elegant horns, a crown on her head shined in the low light. “No... none at all.” Again sadness, “why not?” Reds were big, far bigger then all the others, besides blacks of course. But that was another matter. “Lots were interested...
None were interesting.”

“Oh?” Kalecgos raises a brow, inquiring.

Astrasza enlightens, “Our males... they are boastful... brave hero’s mother loved that about father but...” Kalecgos hums in thought, “are you are looking for a mate from another flight?” Now that was unsual, very unsual. Asch shrugs, smiling tightly “reds are...” she didn’t have to explain too him what her flight was like.

“Will you find someone from another?” He almost gasped aloud at how she looked up at him, the way her eyes twinkled with magic unknown and endearment, “I don’t know what others are like, when the seasons start.” Alex would have taught her the basic of the flights, magic time and dreams, but seasons and mating were considered as private affairs for each flight.

Kalecgos ponders, smiling lightly at his thought, “the blue dragon flights season is coming this next month, if you wish too partake I believe I can allow it?” Kalecgos was aspect of magic, or at least the head of his flight now. He could allow a red to roam the skies with his flight if it meant she could find a first in love. Have wonderful mixed babies.


The light actually shined in her eyes, blinding him. “If you could? That would be wonderful! Blues are so intelligent and kind!” Just as bronze were patient and organizing, or green were laid back and insightful.


Kalecgos lets her continue to have fun with the new whelps, a whole new excitement in her.

Kalecgos flew with his flight, watching as the females spun under their chosen mate, rubbing their soft bellies together. Among the sea of blue, there was a bright red among them. He watches for a moment, flapping his massives wings to catch up, tittering to catch her attention.


The beautiful red turns her face, a playful look on her eyes, she slows, then turns on her belly, flying under him. Kalecgos faulters badly, almost dripping from the sky as her soft belly presses into his. His massive throat bobs powerfully. Astrasza pushes her tail against his, wrapping it around. Kalecgos stiffens, swallowing before he does the same.

He pulls them down, guiding them toward the ground.

They detach as they get too the ground, float for a second before dropping on the grass, “you...” his mighty voice utters, her tail coils around his again, an enticing motion. “You picked... me?” It shocks him, her beautiful voice hums, nose poking his jaw “did you not want me too?” Kalecgos wasn’t sure, was very scared to say anything.
“No... not that not- you picked... me?” She giggles, moving away from him, trotting toward an open cave entrance. Her vast body shimmers in the low light, just before she enters, she turns into her more elven form, a gorgeous smile playing at her lips. She wore little and it was alluring, Kalecgos sniffs the air, smelling her interested and rosy scent.

“I did,” She surmises, a delicate and long brow arches quizzically. Kalecgos thumps along, somehow, even as a little elf she’s commanding him, pulling him too her. “You...” she giggles, touching his brutish arm, “our seasons don’t match and I... I didn’t just want any blue- are you mad?” Could he be mad? “No I’m- of course not!”


He knew Astrasza for all her life, unlike humans it wasn’t frownd upon too have very young mates, not shunned. Dragons lived so long it would only be natural at some point to have one so young. Kalecgos wasn’t much for keeping many mates, he had never had one so this itself was unnatural and odd.
He turns to his half even appearance, sauntering closer to the piles of bedding a furs. “Why didn’t you just say?” He watches intently as she backs up and sits.

“The season, I wanted to court properly.” That was sweet, very sweet. Kalecgos feels a rumbling purr erupt from his chest, he descends, prowling over her. Aztrazsa lays back, flowing like water until there isn’t room to move further.

“Kalecgos-“ He nips at her throat, “Kalec.”

“Asch.”

It was normal for dragons, if they had humanoid forms too mate in them. Kalec enjoyed coupling far more when he used this guise than as a dragon. Some things decidedly stayed dragon like, his horns poked out like icicles. Astrazsa passed over his cheeks, pulling back the hair too see the short elven ears he chose to have. Scales shined blue along his face and neck, traveling all over his body.

The purring continued as he magicked away the remains of their clothes, he was surprised she wore any at all at first when she transformed, but like her mother, Alex did like the outfits mortals could wear.

Kalec licked up her chest, capturing her lips in another bruising kiss. His cock brushed her thigh, the soft narrow head leaking onto her skin. Blues and Reds were built differently, Kalec’s cock was slightly longer than average, a little fatter. The underside had ridges, soft and barely noticeable. Kalec ran his fingers between her folds, pleased to find it already wet and impossibly warm.

“I have little experience,” he chokes out, embarrassed, Astrazsa flushes, nodding “I have none.” Ah, yes of course. Kalec felt silly. She wouldn’t because it was her first season with a partner. Reds were private creatures, blues would sore the air and mate freely in the winds. Kalec knew little about the red flights habits, but understood enough too not look like a fool.

Still, he let his fingers play with her opening, stretching her open until she was withering, her horns clacked against the stone wall, her back arched up, her soft belly pressed into his chiselled stomach. Idly he pets her reddish skin, smiling privately as a thought arose. “What colour do you think our whelps will be?” Conception was nearly guaranteed for dragons in season, his seed would be potent, hopefully it will take. It wasn’t her season after all. It would remain harder for them to create life, but he had no worry since she was the Queen’s daughter.

“Purple,” she sighs in pleasure, “or blue, they will be yours after all.” Amusing as it was, Kalec hoped for red or truly mixed whelps, but whelps almost always ended up as their sires colour. Another unfortunate outcome was they may only make one egg, mixed matings were still tabled and discussed. There was no danger, but grief plenty. Most whelps died in their eggs in early stages of development. But their only understanding was the corrupted black flight eggs made by force and birthed by bronze, green and red. Thus far no actual couple had ventured to create any offspring by choice. Kalec was an academic by heart, mind and soul. It was only natural he decide to pair with someone he could learn things from.


Kalec thinks he would enjoy learning from her. They would be the first of the flights to mix mate, maybe become the first to birth a untainted whelp. Kalec imagines the potential, black dragons were affected and twisted by the old gods, and so their offspring were too. When Deathwing forced the creation of dragons, he brought to life twisted shadows. Kalec and Asch’s whelps would have no such evils.

 

Chapter 67: Illidan dabbles 12

Summary:

Illdian Stormrage/original female character

 

MAJOR SPOLIER WARNING
contains ptr stuff and most of its based upon my loose knowledge of what is suppose to happen, basically burning throne spoilers!!!!

BEWARE

Chapter Text

House hunting was as boring as Illidan figured it would be.

They went too seven different homes and Illidan couldn’t fit in four of them. It wasn’t just annoying it was also embarrassing. Especially when he got caught in a root and Asch had to help him out of it.


“This is infuriating!” Illidan snaps, stomping toward the bare window, snarling out like a angry lion.

Asch sighs, dragging her feet. The tip of his wing twitches, Asch finds herself grabbing gently, pressing a wet kiss to the hard leather. “My love...” she whispering against the skin. Illidan flexes them in irritation. Ignoring her.


Asch peers over at the bed carved from the trunk of the hallowed tree they stood inside of. The posts on all sides were artful and covered in green leaves and vines.

Asch inches closer, burying her face into the middle of his back, right between the gap in his wings. Illidan grunts, looking over his wing to attempt to see what she was doing. Asch reaches up in her toes, reachingto kiss the base. Illidan sighs lightly, eyes flicker a moment as he hands swipe over his abdomen, teasing the dip in his hips.

“What are you doing?” He brings himself to say, Asch doesn’t answer, continuing to busy her mouth. Illidan jolts as her blunt teeth grip his skin and pull.

His fingers twitch in the open air, his arms uselessly hanging there. Elves pass by and look up too see the betrayer, curiously gazing as they meander passed. They can’t see Asch behind him, but Illidan hisses as her delicate fingers press under the band of his leathers.

“You’re being bold,” he practically hisses, Asch hums, bitting harshly. Illidan almost cringes at the flash of pain. Illidan turns, holding his arm and wing up so neither hit Asch as he swings around. Asch smiles playfully. Illidan tried to grab for her, but she backs up.

Asch giggles, looking innocent “am I?” Illidan bends, glaring lightly. Almost prowling.

Asch only backs up again, smile turning into a smirk. The shawl she decided to wear falls off her shoulders, dragging agasint her ent elbows. Illidan watches the faint blush on her cheeks extend to her bare shoulders. The flowers falling out of her hair were like a trail he intended to follow.

Asch continues to back away, more like a bunny than the bear she can turn into. Illidan tilts his head, wondering what she had planned. He continues to walk, wings snapping like a whip. “Are you leading me on a chase?” He asks with a smirk. Malfurion did this with Tyrande all the time. Asch curls her finger, teasing him before she escapes down the stairs.


Illidan rumbles, going out the open window in one beat of his wings. Illidan darts toward the entrance of the house, watching as she skids to a stop in front of him, squealing. Asch ducks under him, screaming out laughter. Illidan huffs, laughing himself before turning to follow. People around them are starting to stop, stare as the half demon chases after the druid.

Asch is laughing, her hair flying in all directions as she spirnts away from the buildings. Animals jump and scramble away as they pass. Illidan was always baffled by this as a young man. Malfurion would notice Tyrande into chasing him for not other reason then to do it.

Once he had asked about it, wondered what it meant. He was furious when he found out it was a Druid mating dance.


Illidan beats his wings harder, just barely keeping up with his escaping wife. Listening to her giggle. The scene around them handed to a forest, thick and unfamiliar still Asch runs, vaulting over the trees and roots and getting her feet dirty. Illidan slows, devising a planto catch her. He lets her get ahead, than cheats and uses his sight to find her hiding and catching her breath in a hallowed trunk.

Illidan stalks, making no noise. He can hear her gasping, laughing brightly.


Asch pants, holding his chest. There as a sound when Illidan closed in, engulfing the entrance of her hiding place. Asch squeaks the form of Illidan is a black shadow, save for his blazon wyes, highlighting his toothy smirk.

“I’ve caught you.” Asch purrs.


Asch maintains her quietness, pushing Illidan back with one hand on his stomach. Illidan is curious so he allows her to force him down into the bed of grass and flowers. The Druid straddles his hips, dragging her nails along his toned belly, straight up to his jaw.


Asch pushes his chin up, making his head softly thud into the log behind him. Her one finger digs into his skin, soft purrs rush form her chest as she bends over to kiss him. Illidan was at her thighs, yanking at her dress.


Asch pulls his hands away, laughing against his lips, Illidan tilts his head, watching as she moves her dress for him. Pulling the hem over her head in a slow, tantalizing motion. Illidan lays back and watches the show presented to him with appreciative groan.


His fingers flex at his sides, claws itching to dig into her flesh. The demon inside him wants it, wants to push her into the dirt and fuck the pretty smile off her face. But the elf is intrigued by the Druid above him enough to sate the other side.


Asch sits high in his lap, head lulled to the side, examaining him. Illidan arches a brow, amused. “What?” He teases, Asch bends again, molding agasint him before nibbling his neck. This time Illidan grabs her hips, snarling as she licks the column of his throat before kissing his long ear. Illidan shivers at the attention, “off-“ she whispers, tugging at his pants. Illidan lifts his hips, ignoring how her cunt pressing into his stomach.

His cock springs free of its confines, but Asch doesn’t move herself into it, simply she smiles against his throat and continues to kiss.

Illidan for a time didn’t understand what she was doing before her kisses her lower and she starts moves down him. Illidan moans, head tilting back as her body drags over his neglected cock. It’s head was flush a dark purple, weeping as Asch gets face to face with it.

The little pink tongue darts out of her over kisses mouth and leaves at the start pre-come. Illidan jerks his hips, Asch hums. Her hand holds his cock still, her tongue works around the shaft, licking and kissing. Illidan is a mess. Snarling demonic noises and rough pants. Asch sucks the head of his cock, easing it into her mouth while jerking his wet cock in hand. Illidan sinks his claws into the ground, carting his other hand through the soft mix of flowers and hair while panting heavily through his nose.

Her tongue swirls around him, the soft sucking and her hallowed cheeks make him hiss. Asch takes more of him, feeling the thing twitch agasint the back of her throat. Asch struggles for a bit, making weak noises around him that only makes Illidan snarl more.

Asch’s fingers cut into his thigh as she finds a rhythm, bobbing her head to the sounds of his purring, messy moans. “Asch... gods.” His nails rack lightly into her skull, “I won’t last very long... if you... keep this-“ Illidan breaks off, gasping softly as her dainty fingers squeeze his balls. Asch swallows around him, sucking in the spittle. Asch looks up too see his blazing eyes watching her, the dark flush on his face and the open panting makes her clinch her thighs together.

“Asch...” he warns in a guttural voice, adding pressure to her head. Asch sinks lower, doubling her efforts until he shakes, growling like an animal. His cock throbs inside her mouth, releasing thick spurts down her open throat. Asch freezes, struggling to swallow and tearing up at the sudden loss of air but she refuses to move off him.

Illidan forced himself not to buck his hips into her mouth, snarling around his teeth as she sucks the cum right out of him. Her cheeks are covered in tears, but her eyes are loving as she gulps around him. Illidan watchings it drool out of the sides of her mouth and almost feels aroused all over again.

Asch pulls off gently, licking up his cock and cleaning anything left behind. Asch swallows the last of it, Illidan doesn’t give her even a second before he’s on top of her, licking the mess around her mouth with a fever.

“Such a good girl,” he purrs menacingly, lacing at her chin for the rest of his leavings. The taste was strange but he ignores it. “I’m almost tempted to ask you how know what to do...” his voice is completely warped, dastardly and demonic. “I’d rather hear you scream instead.” Asch isn’t frightened, not even phased by the change in her husband.


In fact the little elf submits under him, baring her neck and parting her legs. Illidan purrs, completely pleased. His teeth descend upon her flesh, marking it it il some part of her a weeping with blood and sore with black bruises.

Asch gigs at his hair, wiggling as he plays with her skin, leaving at the wounds with love and attention. “You’ve... been... so good-“ He says between sucking anouther mark, “that you... can decide... how you... would like... to be... fucked.” He finished with a toothy smile aimed at her flushed face. The shadow of his body climbs over her until the forest trees above her are eclipsed by his sheerly massive form.


“So?” He asks, grinning at her stuttering, “tree-“ Illidan’s already picking her up, the meat of his palms squeezing her plump ass. His wings snap loudly, curling around them like a blanket of darkness.

Asch grand into his horn, yanking his head down to kiss her. Illidan pushes her into the tree base with a soft thump, going at her bruised lips with anew fever, nipping and savaging them until they were raw and red. Illidan doesn’t bother with preparing her, his cock slides snugly inside, no resistance or pain, only a long drawn moan erupts from her wrecked lips until he ruins it by stealing them again.


His thrusts are quick and harsh, his hips smack into her pelvis with a boney noise, her chest tightens, “Illidan...!” Her cry was long and loud, the wind catches it and echos. The space around them is full of moaning and hissing. The slapping noise was lewd alone, but his wife braved her head against the back of the tree bark and wails, tugging at his hair. Illdian licks at the sweat between her breasts, sucking on the soft skin until the tendons in her their constrict.


Illidan can hear his wife’s heartbeat, the hammering pulse agasint his breast almost matches his own, the sheer speed of their coupling almost has her finishing already, but Illidan was cruel sometimes, and slows down to a inimate pace, annoying her.

Asch makes the most displeased noise he’s ever heard and all he does is grin, tilting his brow. “Illidan!” She gripes, snapping at him like a fowl crocodile. Illidan nuzzles his nose into hers before lowering his mouth to her ear “beg.”

Asch shutters at the command, biting her sore lip. His hips still press into her, his cock sliding wetting agasint her walls. “Go on.” He adds, prodding at the snake den.

“Please Illidan...” She gasps, baring her throat, “please fuck me please!” Illidan purrs, but doesn’t move to hangs his pace. “You can do better.” She looks miffed. Illidan’s going to get in trouble after this. Worth it.

“Please Illidan! Just-“ she huffs, wiggling agasint him in effort to create friction she wants. “Bend me over and fuck me! Illidan justd fuck me please!” Illidan feels his belly tightens the idea. “As you wish my pretty wife.” He almost drops her, spinning her quicker then she can process while bending her over and shoving his cock crack where it belongs.


Asch weakly grabs the tree, a shocked gasp leaving her lips as he hammers into her. The meat of his claws dig into her hips and leave deep groves where they don’t break skin. Asch just bends to his will, barely able to hold herself up as he latched onto the meat of her shoulder, snarling around his clinching teeth.


When she comes its ripped out of her, a surprised scream blurts from her throat and it’s harsh enough that Illidan cums along with her, his too forced from hers. “Gods above Asch.” Illidan beats his hips into her ass, coming for a second time. It oozes around their joining, matting the back pubic hair and rolling down his wife’s thighs. Illidan relaxes his hold, making sure she’s held up by his steady hands as he moves off her.

His cum bursts out as his cock parts, Illidan watches the tinged cum leak out of her with a fascination. Illidan were his lips, eagerly diving forward. Asch practically shrieks when his tongue pushes between the abused lips of her cunt. The obscene slurping noises make her hot and embarrassed. Illidan however isn’t deterred by that apparently and adamantly licks up the mess he made.


The taste was bazaar. She tasted heavenly, Illidan however didn’t like the taste of himself, but continued nonetheless. Asch can feel his tongue stripe at her walls, one hand is under he belly supporting her upright while the other is palmed agasint her ass, pulling her open to his seeking tongue. His sharp teeth graze her clit, teasing it. Asch sobs, arms attempting to support her. Illidan was ting enough to lift her alone, so instead of fooling herself Asch grabs at the hand under her.

“Illidan-!” Her voice is ruined, Illidan sucks harder, continuing to make those embarrassing sound. The slobber along was almost too much, but his tongue clean up any mess it makes, lovingly laving at her thighs before swiping over the whole of her cunt. Asch shakes, eyes rolling any coherent thought turns to babble when she tries to speak.


Illidan licks the new wetness she makes with quick swipes, loving the taste and teasing her for more. Asch claws at his fingers, completely gone and hardly making sense. “Illidan- Illidan- illidan!” His name is a mantra, one of the only things she can say. Illidan silently praises himself, postering quietly as Asch cries out.


Illidan feels a gush if wetness hit his nose and she hoarsely cries it for him, body seizing in his grip before going limp and pliant. Her stomach retracts quickly with erratic breathing and her heart pounds in his ears. Illidan softly licks away the mess, chest rumbling with his throaty purrs.

Illidan pulls her into his lap, watching her limply go along. Asch whines, reaching to caress his jaw with daft fingers. Illidan kisses them as they miss his chin, nails scratching as they pass the mark. Asch groans, bonelessly melting into his flesh. “Illidan... gods.” The demon continues to posture.


Illidan after a while of just sitting with his mate decides it was time to get out of the dirt, he finds the dress she discarded and pulls it over her, the Druid can only lift her arms and give him a doppy tired smile before he lifts her in his embrace. Illidan makes his way back, Asch is nuzzling his throat, muttering barely understandable things.


He goes to his brother and Tyrande’s home, knocking once before Tyrande opens the door. She stares at the scene before her, “you smell like dirt.” She says with more than disgust on her face.

“Really?” He asks as if he gueninly didn’t know, “I thought I smelt like sex.” Tyrande fumes, colouring darkly at his words. “What do you want betray- Illidan?!” Illidan almost laughs at her slip, realizing more then ever how ugly she can be. “I wish to purchase a home. We’ve finally found one to our liking.”


As expected once Asch regains most of her proper fictions she’s howling at him. Illidan can’t help but laugh, which gets him into more trouble. Edan is looking curiously up at his mother as she raged about how Malfurion winked at her and how improper Illidan was.

“Too be fair- he said we should have sex.” Illidan shouldn’t have opened his mouth. Asch had become a whole new colour of red, “I can’t- I can’t believe you! I just can’t believe you- you...!” She can’t even finish. Illidan stresses his lips together, barely containing himself.

“Ada!” Edan yips, clapping his hands together. Ah, saved by the baby. Illidan coos softly, opening his arms. Edan pouts, Asch stops yelling for a moment, watching.

“Come come little one,” Illidan eggs on, Edan gets mad, not getting what he wanted. “C’mon little one come here if you want Ada.” He says, flexing his fingers. Asch quiets, falling to sit agasint Illidan’s legs, watching as their baby fidgets and pouts, getting upset at his father.


“Edan come to Ada.” Edan looks up with his blazing eyes, debating whether or not to cry. Slowly however he rocks forward, onto his hands. Edan stumbles and falls, beginning to cry.


Illidan doesn’t let him, “Edan come to Ada, come come little one.” He sniffles, but balances on his hands, getting up in his hands before wobbling backward. “That’s it, come to Ada!” Edan rocks a little, stumbling back in his feet before stepping forward once. “Good boy, come to Ada- my good boy!” Illidan praises, watching with excitement as Edan takes his first steps.


Asch’s is crying, joyously watching her baby hobble forward toward his father, Edan makes it half way into his fathers grip before Illidan plucks him off the ground and kisss him furiously.

Edan giggles, obviously excited. “My good little boy, such a good boy Edan.” Edan grabs his father’s hair, giggling “Ada!”

“The Little Prince is learning.” Mal’s voice comes from the door, smiling widely. “Gah!” Edan yells, as if it wa suppose to mean something. Asch snorts, tickling his belly “uncle Edan, say uncle.” “Uck!” Mal laughs loudly, feet clicking forward, “yes Edan good.” Edan is oleased with the praise and ruffles his like father, amusing everyone.

“So you’ve chosen this home?” Mal looks around at the bare walls and few boxes around the room, “it will fit you both perfectly.” Illidan grunts, “one can hope. If we get to spend time here at all.”

Asch shakes her head, “the legion has taken much- but it won’t take us.”

 

There was only once in Illidan’s long life that he was truly ever angry. Atop the black temple when he finally understood he was going to lose the fight and his plans were ruined.

This has turned into the second time.


“Dwarf!” His rage was directed at the crystal blue hue of the diamond stone dwarf, all fangs and claws. He could shread him to glittering pieces. “You told her?!” The prison that held Sargeras wailed behind him. The Titan was raging.

Asch was fuming, Edan was clutching his mother’s leg.

“I had too!” The dwarf belts, “yer were just gonna leave ya family behind?!” That’s exactly what Illidan wa going to do. He was going men’s the gap between Argus and Azeroth, close himself off the world and leave Asch there. Safe.

“I cannot believe you!” She screams, the rage in her eyes flares, the Druid magic crackle like lightening, as if she was about to use it. “Didn’t you think that was the pint you fool!” Illidan ignored Asch, snarling at the demon.

“Send her back! Now!” Magni looks away sheepishly, “I cannot. Only she can choose to leave...” Illidan whirls around, “go back dammit Asch go back!” Asch’s beautiful face scrunches in hate “not unless you come with me- with your son!” Illidan glares at her, “This is my choice! My duty-“ “we’re a family Illidan! You promised! You weren’t going o leave me behind! Not again!” The stung. Illdian curses, spitting the harsh words out and snarling at her.

“How could you decide to do this?! Why didn’t you tell me?! How could you even think to leave your son? Leave me?!” Illidan’s wings crack, a loud noise compared to the stark quietness of the abyss. “It’s my burden! It’s my purpose! Yours was never tied to mine!”


“Things change!” She shrieks, “we were mates ten thousand years ago- we married only just two years passed and you think your burdens aren’t mine?! You think your life isn’t mine?!” She thrusts he hand out, the one stained with his blood, the rings of commitment swirling in fel green. “How dare you!”


Illidan snaps, “this is no life! Not for you or our son! I didn’t want you here wasting away! I didn’t want our son growing up in this hell-land!” Asch’s hands are balled in fists, shaking at her side. “What life can we have?! Edan won’t have a father- won’t understand what’s happening to him! I can’t explain why he’s the way he is- what it means!” Asch has tears welling her her eyes, “do you know what they cal him?! The tainted prince! Our baby! Do you know what they call me?! She doesn’t say it, Illidan knows.

“What life is that?” She spits, “a better one than this! I have chosen to watch Sargeras- to be his jailer I will not allow you to stay here!” Asch plants feet, “but I will! Wherever you go- don’t you remember?!” By now the dwarf has gone off somewhere, Illidan presumes our of war shot, but he had little knowledge of dwarfs and whether or not they were nosy.


Tears broke across her face, Edan looks up, upset that his mother was crying. Illidan deflates, “together Illidan we promised. We promised!” She cries, lip quivering. Her tears for the dead ground, Edan tugs at her dress, trying to get her attention. Illidan sighs heavily. “I couldn’t ask you to follow me. Someone has to watch the Titan. I have nothing on Azeroth-“ “you have me!” She wails, Illidan cringes.

“You have Edan! You... you have another-“ she chokes, hiccuping a breath. Illidan is puzzled by her words, “I have another...?” He repeats, then realizes. Just faintly enough Illidan can see a little green swirl no bigger then a grape. Illidan sifts on his feet, scraping the ground. “How was I suppose to do this without you?” Ash slips to the fround, hands covering her face. Edan hugs his mother, trying his best.


Illidan is at a loss for words.

“Asch I...” He feels like a fool. He didn’t ask her. It never mattered what he did before because no one was around to care. Not his brother or Tyrande, they never cared what he decided to do, risk or die for.


But he didn’t have that luxury anymore.

Illdian has a family.

Illidan steps toward her, it’s gets heavier and heavier as he moves. It I’m he falls to his knees in front of her.

“I should have told you.” He mutters, getting her attention, “I just didn’t want... this for you- for... for them.” His finger touches the fel cloth swirling inside her.

Illidan sighs, “I’m so sorry Asch. I’ve hurt you so many times. Can you ever forgive me?” His wife looks up at him, eyes still drowning in tears. “Yes...”

 

Asch’s return to Azeroth was conditional, she could go when she pleased, but couldn’t return for a full day. She could bring Illidan back and Edan, but they would need to stay there a full day before the stone she was given had any power for another transport.

Like usual they had no place to call home, but Asch said that didn’t matter, so long as they had each other. The prison was huge and neither Illidan or Asch had any idea how to loc of unlock it. Or where the door was to begin with, but it as at least less imposing then the actual husk of Argus.

Illidan was both miffed and happy Asch had packed for the trip. It seemed that everything from their home in Darnassaus was piled in chests where magni was standing. The dwarf peeled up when they came around the corner.


“Fix it eh?” He looked smug. Illidan wanted to crave his face off. “Well. It ain’t exactly home but you’ll find a lot of empty room ‘ere” Illidan didn’t like the idea of living there, but he didn’t exactly know how to build a house. Asch seemed pleased by it anyway and thanks the dwarf for everything.

“It ain’t no problem,” he brushes off, “be good yeah? Asch can contact me if there be anything ya need.” Illidan was almost tempted to shove the dwarf I the portal he created, but resisted as Asch grabbed into his arm and said goodbye.

Soon the silence washed over them and Illidan closes his eyes. Asch squeezes his arm, making him look over. “I love you illdian,” Illidan pulls her to his side, looking over the vast nothingness.

“I love you too Asch.”

Chapter 68: Edan dabbles 3

Summary:

Stormrage family!

I’m so excited!

Thanks for the 8000+ views! You all mean so much

Chapter Text

Illidan snorts, than laughs fully. Asch was confused, showing it on her face as he continued to chuckle. “What is it?” She asks,
Frowning lightly. Illidan leans back into the sofa, arcing his head in a direction she follows with her eyes.


Asch is surprised to find their son, surrounded by both blood elves and nightelves, all women. Edan looks a little trapped. A helpless expression on his face. Asch leans into Illidan, trying to listen to what the girls were saying.


“So can you fly?” Edan nervously nods his head, color blooming across his face. “Think you can take me for a spin?” He visibly gulps, “I... I don’t think I can lift-“ “oh,” she coos, touching his arm “you look so strong!”


Asch eyes the scene, tilting her head. “What is happening?” Illidan starches his arm over his wife’s shoulder, pulling her into his side. “Demonic allure my beautiful Druid. Demonic allure.” Asch didn’t know what he was talking about.

Until the girls started tracing his tattoos and touching his horns.

“Oh god.”


“There so hard! Are they heavy?” Edan’s head bend down so the girls could touch the curled horns, their fingers were petting and watching the groves. “N-no they aren’t...” one blood elf pressed herself into his arm, squeezing her breasts against his upper bicep, “can they they be tugged on?” Edan nods his head, like a sheep too slaughter. “Oh good! I wouldn’t want to take them off.” Illdian cackles madly, throwing his head back in utter joy.

“I like your tattoos!” One of the nightelf girls interject, touching his exposed arm. “Are they everywhere?” Edan flushed all the way too his chest, “y-yes...” the girls giggle and preen.


“Go help him!” Asch commands, looking worried. She would do it herself, but that would only embarrass him. Illidan sighs, “what’s the harm? They won’t bite... well-“ he laughs when she hits his chest. “Illidan he’s uncomfortable look at him.” Illidan huffs but heaves himself upward.

“Edan,” he calls, walking with purpose. His son grapples to his voice, almost darting away from the girls circling him. “Hello lord Illidan,” on girl tries to flutter her lashes at him, Illidan hardly glances her way “I’m sorry ladies Edan has to say goodbye” they all pout and cling harder too him. “Promise you’ll come back?” They all look at him with big eyes, Edan chockes a little.


“Y-yes...” two girls are bold and kiss his cheek before he scampers away to his mother. Asch is laughing at his terrified expression, Illidan saunters back toward them, smug.

“Are you okay?” She coos, petting his ruffles hair back into place as Illidan sits back in his spot, “no... no I- I don’t know how to talk to girls.” Illidan chuckles warmly, patting his sons shoulders, “those girl weren’t interested in talking.” Edan gulps, Asch sighs.

“Edan?” His father’s deep voice caught his attention, “did you understand the things they said?” Edan’s brow furrows, humming in distress. “Not... not really?” Illidan glances at his wife. “We should take you home and have a talk.”

Asch had little too offer their son in this subject other then being there to explain what Illidan said in simpler words. Edan frowns, looking a little pink “and... and girls like that?” Illidan nods, trying not to laugh. “Usually yes. But you must be careful. Sex isn’t something to take lightly. If you aren’t careful you might end up getting some girl pregnant.” Asch nods along, having nothing to add.

Edan pales a little, looking nervous. As he should, Illidan remembers being his age, remembers the nights he had with girls he didn’t remember. All of them had taken precautions, but it didn’t mean there wasn’t a chance at it happening anyway. Illidan is thankful he was so lucky.

“Did you have any questions little moon?” His mother asks, Edan bites his lip, staring at the floor. “What’s... is it- is it the same with... men?” Illidan blinks, “Jarod?” Timidly Edan nods, Illidan makes a vague noise “mostly. I have nothing to offer you... but when it comes time for you too explore that-“ Illidan cringes a little, “Jarod will help you understand. Just... be careful. You can always say no Edan.” Edan brightens a little, smiling at his father, “I know Ada!” Times like this Illidan really saw his son growing up. Recently a lot has changed for his eldest, the horns and tattoos. He was still learning how to use his wings and now his son was interested in sex.


Illidan wasn’t sure he liked the idea, but Asch assured him it was a normal feeling to have. The best they could to was provide answers to his questions and information. Edan was old enough to decide what he wanted and Illidan certainly wasn’t going to tell him no. It would be more then unfair to do so, and Illidan figured he would do it anyway, so better he knows instead of the alternative.

“We should talk to Kair too Illidan.” That made something in his stomach unsettle. “Absolutely not!” He barks, furious at the idea. Asch merely rolls her eyes, “then I will. I don’t want our daughter getting pregnant.” Illidan was completely enraged at the idea his daughter would be having sex at all. She was too young and too... his daughter!

What was worse she was already showing interest in more then a few of his Illidari. Whenever Kair mentioned one Illidan turned into a hissing mess. Asch thought it was sweet and encouraged her to get the nerve to talk too Belath, whom Kair was most interested in. Illidan made sure the elf was no where too be found when his daughter accompanied him to the Fel Hammer.


Edan felt a little more then awkward after sitting down with his parents, but they answered a lot of his unasked questions, now he felt a little more confident than before. Still the idea of it made him nervous. Father said he’d have to learn to be careful because of his demonic blood. Father said it was easy too lose control of things when caught up in sex. Which made Edan want to shrivel up and disappear. But the honestly of it all made him feel a lot better. Knowing he had to worry about hurting someone was more than nerve wrecking. Father said he could easily kill someone if he didn’t notice, or scare them.


Edan knew his voice warped dangerously sometimes, it was darker and strange. He had only heard his father speak like that once and it was when Maiev called him the Betrayer. Edan accidentally found out the same way, Maiev has a way of bringing out the worst in people.

It was easy to imagine how he could hurt someone, father was unhinged in battle and the parallel wasn’t something he wanted too think about, but it made sense.


Edan shakes his head, he wouldn’t have to worry over this just yet.


Fathers work was very important, while Edan and his mother got to go back and forth between Azeroth and Argus father could only leave every so often. Magni had agreed to help manage the bound titan Sargeras so father could return with them to the other world.

The Illidari were successful in bridging the gap between Argus and the Fel Hammer so more often then not if father was busy watching after his charge Edan was spending time with his mother or the hunters. Mother didn’t like leaving Argus unless father was with them so the time was spent doing other things. Mother would busy herself in rebuilding the nature on Argus, repairing the dead wastes. One week at a time her reach went further and further. The place was almost inhabitable. Aside from it being split apart, but she was workin with Magni to weave it all back together.

Edan didn’t have the skill in him to learn how to help, father said he wouldn’t be able to become a Druid because of his tainted blood. That upset him a little, but he decided it wasn’t so bad. Despite his father forbidding the idea, Edan wanted to become a demon hunter. It wasn’t as far away as he once believed. Kayn said it would be easy to transform him, although the Bloodelf didn’t know he was serious.

Edan wouldn’t get any of them in trouble either, Kayn had only told him because Edan had inquired carefully over the last few weeks about how one would go about it. The parts were all there, awaiting to be assembled.


Edan still needed to things vastly different then an elf turned demon, because he already was in-part one himself. Khadgar has initially aided his research without knowing and set Edan on a course to find what the tomb of demons called the “possessed heart gem” This was a very special emerald that the green dragon flight had used to house a thousand thousand demons.

Edan knew that if he broke the gem on Argus the souls would escape and cling to whatever life they found close by. Edan could use the sealed summoning circle to combine the souls into one and syphon their power. It would take some time for the demons to die away, Edan would have to sit and wait until all of them were suffocated out.

That too he had a plan for. The summing circle was already created in a cave very far from home, he had all the perpetrations made. Letting the souls die out would take days, but after Edan could easily step in the circle and gain the powers of a demon hunter.

The only hinge in his plan was how to obtain the emerald heart from the green flight.


Uncle Malfurion was the first Druid and often spoke to the green flight, tomorrow he was suppose to meet him while mother ran errands. Father wasn’t coming so it was his only opportunity to get the possessed heart. How he would do it Edan didn’t know, but it would require him to lie very well.

Something Edan wished he didn’t have too do.


Uncle Malfurion has always tried to fan the flame of interest when Edan expressed he wished to try to become a Druid, despite it being impossible uncle Mal said they would find a way to do it. His mother was excited and said so long as he hoped there would be a way. Father wasn’t really convinced, but that was because his father didn’t really like the idea of him becoming a Druid.

It easily grafted a good excuse too see the dreamers, Mal had a special connection too the green flight, as did mother. So it wasn’t suspicious when he brought Edan to their most scared temple. No dragon or Druid paid them mind as they walked through the arches, uncle Mal explaining the arts of healing magic while Edan paid little attention.

“Ah here we are.” Uncle Mal said, stopping at a grand sealed door. Edan marvelled, “What is it?” Edan knew exactly what it was because of the book Khadgar had given him weeks ago. “The dreaming vault. It is where all the most dangerous artifacts are placed- come.” They enter without problem, the stairs lead them down to a darker area lot with torches. All around were stacks o strange items, all buzzing with magic.

But Edan already found what he was looking for. The possessed heart was laying beside a few tombs, a rather innocent looking trinket if one didn’t know what it housed. Edan played smart and eagerly looked at other things before even stepping near the thing.

“This is the mirror of Medivh it can show you anyone you ask it too.” Edan touches the gold inlay, actually intrigued. “Illidan Stormrage.” Uncle Mal chuckles and the mirror swirls with intense magic, warping it reflection and creating a new image.

Atop a shattered column sat his father, cleaning his wing while boredly guarding the prison. Edan laughs, watching how intently his father rubs the dirt away from a crease in the leather.

“Asch Stormrage!” His father is replaced with his mother, her beautiful face is laughing, looking over saplings. She looked to be talking to them. Mal chuckles, waving his hand over the face of the mirror and it returns to show their reflections. “Go on and look around, ask before touching anything.” Edan stays at the mirror, pretending to play with it some more and requesting a few others people as his uncle saunters away.

Once he’s far enough Edan leaves the mirror, looking over some books before finding his prize again. Making sure his uncle can’t see him, Edan swipes the heart, hiding it in his bracer.

Edan feels terrified but wills himself to be calm, asking after a few other things so his uncle wouldn’t be confused at his disinterest.

Edan would have been curious about everything if not for his goal, but he had to get out. The fear of being caught was hanging over his head. “Do you think mama is finished?” Uncle Mal has a couple books in his arms as he turns, “I believe she is, I have what I came for, let’s go fine her.”

Edan also has what he came for.

Edan almost couldn’t believe he got away with it. His entire being felt dreadful, he was lying too his mother and uncle, he stole from the green dragon flight. But it as the only way he could become a demon hunter.

The ritual started the same day they got back, Edan slipped away to his hidden cave and leg the souls loose behind the summoning circle. The horrible wails and screaming unsettled him, but Edan stayed and watched what the book described would happen if they were released. One by one they were dying, fizzling out like so many lights. They were attacking the seal, beating it with their orb like bodies. Edan steps back, watching the fizzled embers return to the heart.

The power gathering inside of the emerald buzzed without a master, glowing softly as each new contribution entered its green casing. Edan left it too finish.

Mother and father were none the wiser when he came back, father was happily listening to her talk about the saplings Edan saw in the mirror, how they would come here once they weee ready.

“Ah little moon,” She says, “how was the vault? What did you see?” Edan tells them about the mirror, how he saw both of them in it and what they were doing. Father was smirking “it’s a good thing the mirror is locked away. What horriblely compromising things one might see-“ mother smacks him but all father does is laugh.

Edan spends the better part of the week checking in on the heart, it would only be a day or two from now until it was finished and ready for use. But once it readied he could finally become what he always wanted.

There were two times Edan saw his father without the blind that covered his face, once in the morning on a normal day and another just before bed. Now was just like one of those times, mother was asleep across his chest laying absently as his father watched his youngest brother Tadeas play on the floor.

His father strokes his hand down his mothers back, rumbling a soft purr. It looked rather odd to see his fathers face without it, but Edan couldn’t say he disliked it. Edan want sure why he still wore it, whether it being habit or afraid. People said they didn’t like looking at Edan directly, his eyes were burning just like his fathers. It hurt his feelings when he was younger but now he was proud to be different.


“Ada!” Tadeas shouts, trying to get his fathers attention. Illidan winces, looking at Asch, “hush little one,” He coos softly, “your mother is sleeping.” Tadeas blinks, mouth open, “sleep!” He repeats, wobbling up on his feet. Illidan holds his hand open and Tadeas grabs onto it, giggling softly as Illidan lifts him up.

Tadeas curls atop his mothers back, nuzzling into her hair, letting a great sigh go before settling. Illidan chuckles softly, carting the blanket over his babies body.


Edan watches with the pain of remembrance, mother almost always had him in her arms before bed and father would be on the other size, closing the space between them and making Edan feel warm and safe.

Edan waits until his father falls asleep before leaving the house. there was no one too wonder where he went so long as his father doesn’t wake up, Kair sunk away to go flirt with one of the hunters so at least he had leverage if she did catch him.

The souls were gone from the circle and the heart was glowing with the power of all the demons. Edan allows himself to be excited as he begins the incantation to open the circle.


Malfurion has reservations of going to the Fel Hammer, but it was the only way to get too Argus without alerting anyone more then he needed too.

Kayn Sunfury was scowling at him as he came toward the gaggle of demon hunters. “What do you have there?” Mal brought the mirror along with him, “not important I need you too open the way to Argus.” Kayn halts him, scoffing.

“Not until you tell us why.”

“Edan is going to turn himself into a demon hunter.”


That got them to move immediately.


Illidan was not expecting half his hunters and his brother to break into his home and shout at him. They both woke his wife and baby. Tadeas wailed qt the sudden outburst and Asch flincthes. Illidan plucks Tadeas off her back, letting her sooth him. “What in all hells-“ “Edan is going to try and become a Demon hunter!” Kayn has a shrill awful voice that caused Tadeas to cry out again.

“What do you mean?! It’s not possible- he needs another hunter for the ritual!” Mal steps forward, “not if he has the possessed heart.” Illidan flares, confused but Asch gasps, apparently understanding. “Illidan we have to find him now!”


The mirror of Medivh was set up quickly and the hunters hand to hold it up, Kayn started commanding hunters into groups so they could leave upon finding where Edan was hiding.

“Edan Stormrage!” Illidan hisses, completely enraged. The mirror warped, creating the image of his son, surrounded by fel energies. Asch coves her mouth, crying silently as they listen to the demonic words coming from her child’s mouth.

Illidan squints, looking at the interior of the cave, from the side it seemed he was close to a river of fel, of the glow was anything to go by. “Go to the wastes and comb the area surrounded by the cats and Basilisks!” Kayn barks, watchingnthe mirrors face too. Hunters scurry and scrap for their weapons, leaving in a flag of wings.

“We don’t have time!” Illidan snarls, rippling away and taking his own weapons in hand, “Kair stay here with Belath and watch your brother- Asch and Kayn come with me. Malfurion go with the other hunters and assist them.”


Illidan watches his wife become a massive raven before taking flight with her, Kayn close behind.

Edan was sure he was speaking the worlds righr until the barrier ripples and opened. His tongue felt heavy and used from speaking a language he had no knowledge of. Stepping inside the circle felt strange, like he was passing into a pool of honey. Edan closed the circle again and grabbed the heart laying uselessly on the dirt floor.


Edan peers at it, looking at the black colour inhabiting the heart. The outer shell was weak, Edan palms it, breathes deeply and squeezes the gem. It breaks like a glass bead, screams of agony pierce his ears and the power of thousand thousand demons punch into his chest.

Illidan flies faster, frantically glancing in all directions until he saw purplish black cloud spewing out of a cave no far from him, “Asch there!” The massive raven swoops down, invading the cave withher talons pointed downward. Illidan skids on his feet, making huge welts in the ground as his wife runs in two legs toward the hellish colours erupting from the inner cave.

“Edan! Edan no!” She yells, from inside a huge sphere Edan is writhing, screaming in pure agony. Illdian watches Asch beat her fists against the bubble, “Edan!” Illidan gropes the wall, watching his son claw at his eyes, the black smoke billowing out of them.

His skin was turning a deep shade, rough scales and spikes poke out of his arms, legs and shoulders. The rich black hair began to turn grey, then white at the roots down. Edan howls, clawing at his flesh, the razer sharp nails dig into his skin, ribbing at his flesh.

“Edan! Baby- Edan stop!” Asch cries, Illidan grips her shoulder, “it’s too late.”


Edan felt horrible, felt like his soul was being ripped from him and put back piece by piece. It felt like his whole body was on pins and needles, his head was in fire and his eyes couldn’t see passed the swirling mess of souls bouncing off the circle.


Faintly he could hear screaming, crying something was beating against the wall. Beyond was nothing but shadows, shapeless figures looming over him. Edan couldn’t draw proper breath, he claws at his throat, groping the ground and gasping out. It seemed the minutes ticked by in hours, but once it was over Edan collapsed, the circle breaking.

“Edan my baby!” He faintly heard his mother before losing conscience.

Chapter 69: Kael’thas dabbles 1

Summary:

A/O/B!
Kael’thas Sunstrider/female elf

 Haw haw chapter 69

Whose ready for omegaverse.
thanks for sticking around! also Kael's dabbles if they continue will totally swing left from cannon. can't really have him going evil and stuff... anyway!

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

There was sheer, unrelenting panic.

 

Help, help, help!

Kael’thas could only fidget where he stood, panting noisily and swallow dust. The smell was consuming, irresistible in its very nature.

The sounds of distress made it the worst.

The restless shifting and the drawn out moans of utter pain. Kael keens, shakily moving when his legs worked again.

It was almost routine to come here, which is why Kael has gotten this far in the first place. There was no mage light anywhere through the house, which would have been normal if not for what he found.

Kael had gentleman's intentions, he wished to escort his partner to the banquet, one that was being held in his honor. One he had asked her to accompany him too. It was fine, she said, come get when you wish to leave- use the extra key if I’m taking too long.

Kael used the key so often he had put it on his ring, she enjoyed his visits, prompted or surprised. It was never a bad time.

Except, however, this time.

“Asch...?” He calls softly, pressing his hand into the closed door. What hit his burning ears was another whine, but it was no response too him.


Omega in danger, help, help, help!

Kael was distraught by the scared smell, the waves of distress coming out of the room made his muscles tense and his brain lose focus. His instincts were telling him to help. He needed to help. Behind the door was an omega in heat and in pain. Kael needed to help.


Kael huffs, pushing the door open. What he found didn’t surprise him, but made his need grow stronger.

Curled and sweaty, whining and crying. Asch was clawing at her sheets, legs spread open under a drenched pale cover. The rush of it all hit him straight in the face.

“Asch...?” His voice was croaky, wrecked. The omega flinches, whining and arching to the sound of his alpha voice.

“Ka... Kael” she struggles to say, her arm uselessly lulls toward him, Kael prowls, purring deeply without even noticing. It causes her to shiver and fidget, “Omega...” He hisses, bending over to shadow her form. Asch pants, baring her neck. Kael peels the soaked sheet away, openly staring at her naked chest. Kael leans over, peppering soft kisses against her collarbone. “Ple...ase alpha,” Asch heaves, spreading herself out to him. “K-knot-!”


Kael smirks against her warm skin, reaching further down with his lips until he came to her soft hips, Kael stares at her with smouldering eyes as he kisses and nips her sensitive thighs, aware of the overly intoxicating smell of her arousal.

Her cunt was pink and desperate, quivering around nothing. The soft white hair was matted with sopping wetness. Kael inhales, head swimming. He’s been with omegas, but he’s never been with an omega in heat. Asch just smelt so good, so needy. Kael was an alpha, it was his duty too help.


Karl’s fingers touched her first, the warmth was unimaginable, he dared to dip his fingers inside, wishing it was his cock instead. Asch keens, bending to try and take more. Kael inserts them to the knuckle, feeling her count fuller like a second heart. Teasingly, Kael shallowly thrusts his fingers, enamoured by the slick that gushed around his fingers.


There were alpha brained questions he wanted to ask, needed to ask for his own sake. Like had she eaten yet, how long she’d been without an alphas help. Kael could ponder these problems after she was on his knot and sated

“Alpha....!” Kael purrs, through the haze of heat Asch can almost tell he’s scenting her. Kael’thas senses were being madly overrun, the need to fix it and draw it out happened all a once. Kael was taught how to care for an omega, what to do when they were in heat, upset and scared.

His fingers sink deeper and Asch howls, her entire frame arches into him, cunt gushing around his fingers. Kael was overcome by the heat of it all, quickly removing his robes before tossing them somewhere in the room. Asch whines loudly, trying to reach for him. Her perky little ears swivel to the sound of his rustling. His scolding beautiful eyes glow in the dark.

“Up omega,” he commands, Asch does as she’s told instantly, hips lifting, Kael twitches his fingers making magic. In his palm he creates a cold sheet of ice, gently stuffing it under her lifted hips. Kael felt just how hot she was, the sweat sheen on her skin was caused from more than just lust.

Asch fidgets and keens, “good girl,” he coos. Asch may have hated it, but heat stroke was very real and very dangerous.

Kael lapped at his fingers, humming around the taste, “You’ve been so good, is it still hot?” Asch nods frantically, wiggling as he falls between her open legs, they grab onto his hips immediately, trying too pull him in. “Let me make it better.” To keep her from whining Kael rubs his cock against her sopping cunt, drawing moaning out of both of them. His mind was on his purpose however. With expert fingers he creates little droplets of ice around her, letting ones drop onto her heated skin.


Asch shivers, skin cooling much to his delight. They melt quickly, but did what he wished. It was almost a complete different kind of relief when Kael popped the head of his cock between her wet lips. Asch sighs loudly, arching into his body in effort too spear herself deeper. The sheer shape her spine took made the angle agonizing, Kael hisses, balls pressing against her taught ass.


The noise she made was lewd, obscene and made his blood boil in his veins. Kael grabbed her hips, shoving his cock deeper until he could feel the very back of her resist his entry. Kael doesn’t ease out, isn’t careful. He slams his cock into her, pounding her into the mattress like a mindless animal. The hot wet walls flutter and squeeze around him, Asch screams, barely aware of anything but the cock nestled inside her.

“Kael- Kael- oh gods-“ her words are pinched out with each cant of his hips. The wet slap of their skin was almost as loud as their heated moans, surely her neighbours knew exactly what they were doing. Everyone in Dalaran must know by now.


Kael’thas hands cage each side of her head, clawing at the sheets as he leverages the new angle. Asch’s thighs spread against his hips, the slick making it slippery and shiney. “Ah.. ah... ah-!” The force of his thrusting made the bed bang again the wall loudly. Her home was a joined apartment and Kael hoped the people next door weren’t home. Each time his cock pushed back in Asch gasped, her whole frame jolting with the bed.

Kael huffed, baring his teeth like a beast.


Kael angles his face, pressing his lips savagely against her, all tongue and teeth thrashing and clicking. He bites at her bottom lip, Asch presses her hands into his lower back, bringing him closer, the ice cooling against her chest made Kael shiver and purr. Asch claws up his back, bending away to whine. Kael slams his pelvis forward, “M-more-!” She begs, tearing flowing out of her eyes in streaks. “Harder- please- please!” Kael can’t deny her begging. “I’ll give you more,” he bites her ear harshly, leaving little dents in the flesh before he flips Asch onto her knees.


As he expected Asch scrambles into position, weeping as his cock filled her deeper. Kael palms her plump ass, squeezing it as she bows her back, spreading herself wantonly. Kael sank his cock harder, ramming her into the sheets. Asch feels his knot catch and tug, she desperately tries to push back, keening. “I’ll give it to you, just a little longer, my beautiful omega.” The curtain of his hair tickled her spine, drawing content noises from her, Kael pounded into her, mouth at her ear, “Scream for me!” Asch’s voice was wrecked, but she tried.

“Scream my name Asch- let everyone hear whose cock you're wet for!” Asch cries out, eyes rolling into the back of her skull. A thin dribble of drool rolled out of her mouth, Asch’s tongue felt heavy and her lips hurt from being kissed raw. “Kael-!” In one swift, perfect motion she was impaled on his knot, the balloon formed and trapped them. Kael snarls, deep in his chest.


Asch cries in relief, bonelessly collapsing into the crease pillows. Kael swallows harshly, cock twitching and spurting. His mouth hung open and locked painfully. A half groan half feral snarl escaped his maw as his lips attacked the back of her neck, kissing his way to her exposed shoulder, before he knew what he was doing his jaw snapped and bit into the meat of her shoulder.

Asch tensed and screams, trying to claw away and tug on the knot stuffed too full inside her. Kael’s instincts tell him to bite harder and he does, the resistance his mind felt was too harsh and real, but after a moment of blood welling in his mouth and his cock being tugged in Asch whimpers and the veil is lifted over his viridian eyes. Something in his mind netted together, weaving metal latches connecting them solidly to the omega writhing below him. Kael moans around the wound, tongue lulling and lapping the blood.


When he lets go the world changed around him, the haze was gone and Asch was sobbing quietly. Kael nuzzles his nose into her soft sliver hair, cooing. “Asch,” his voice was gravel and ruined. “T-that hurt...” she hiccups, miserable in the pillows. Kael grunts, nodding carefully “I know, let me make it better?” Asch sniffles, but nods meekly. Kael grinds his knot into her, coming over and over again and almost losing his grip on reality from the feeling. Asch gasps anew, “Let's turn you over,” gently he helps her over, not tugging too much.

Now his brain worked in overdrive, needing too do things properly. Asch wasn’t in her right mind and wouldn’t be until it was over. Kael has made a grave mistake, he was finally aware of just what he had done. Hopefully Asch wasn’t going to be calling rape and have him arrested by the end of the week.


For now he wouldn’t worry about that, but it’ll be ever present of course. “Have you eaten?” Asch looks a little dazed, almost too gone to answer, but shakes her head slowly. “Let me feed you.”

The immense pleasure he felt couldn’t compare to anything when Asch lifted her head and took his fingers into her mouth, taking the ripped pieces of ginger bread he conjured up. Kael was aware he was purring he whole time and couldn’t stop the sound if he wanted too. His knot was deflating, but it wasn’t enough yet that he could comfortably take it out. Besides, his body was still jolting in pleasure. Kael had cum several times already and didn’t seem to be finished yet either. The knot could only hold back so much and a wet little puddle had begun to form between her thighs. Kael would have lots to clean up.


Throughout the week they managed to have sex almost all over the apartment. Kael has long since locked the door, closed the open windows and completely turned his attentions to caring for the omega dependent on him. Kael knew almost everything about Asch, they had been colleagues and friends for a very long time. Kael knew she liked bubble baths and spring scented shampoo.


Asch couldn’t stop eating ginger bread, bananas and peanuts. Kael accommodated for it all, knowing her body was only trying to make up the weight she was losing. Kael has lost count of the days that had passed, but as he was laying in her bed, petting her hair, he felt her tense.

“You.... you bit me.” Her voice was guarded. Asch tore away from her place at his side, pulling the sheets to cover herself. Kael feels dread well up in his stomach. “Asch I-“ “Archmage Sunstrider you- you need to leave!” The use of his title has him wincing, the panicked waves coming off the omega made his bones hurt.

“Asch wait- just wait please let me explain.” Asch was shaking her head, adamantly refusing to listen too him. “I came to get you for the party-“ he still presses, “You called for me! I couldn’t leave you. I-I...”


Asch fumes, face blazing, “I was in heat! Of course I would- you didn’t even... you didn’t think!” Asch snarls, but it wasn’t threatening like she wanted it to be. “Out- get out!” Tears well up in her eyes, a betrayed look etched into her pale face. Kael clinches his jaw shut, begrudgingly doing as she asked.


It had been almost a month now, Kael hadn’t seen Asch since the day she woke up. He was becoming bond starved and angry. What made his mood was worse was the fact she switched departments just to get away from him. Kael heard chatter she was on heat leave and his blood grew icy at the idea he wasn’t with her. He was rutting because she was in heat, his body knew it, her body knew it. But he had to suffer and snarl.

That is, until Archmage Antonidas brought to his attention that he was making every omega tense and upset. Even some betas were noticing the angry rutting alpha. Kael was usually a gentlemen, but snapped and snarled at the other alpha before leaving in a huff and slap of his mantle.

Kael passed study hall after study hall until his nose caught the scent of a scared omega.

His scared omega.


“Where’s your alpha, sweetheart?” Asch cripples, curling into herself to try and get away from the advancing mage, “I don’t have one!” She barks, but he just laughs, leaning in to smell her, “Smells like you do. Where is he baby? Did he abandon you? I’d never let you walk around like this.” He touches her face with the back of his hand, licking his lips, “In the middle of a heat and walking around all alone, c’mon bend over for me. I’ll make it all better.”

Kael has heard just about enough as he pushes open the door, smacking it against the back wall, “Move off her now.” Was all he gave in warning before his hand came up with a massive ball of fire crackling between his fingers.


The other alpha smirks at the challenge, dropping his head closer to Asch’s neck, “Is this him sweetie?” He purrs, laughing dangerously, “You’re one stupid dog.” The alpha says, Kael growls wolfishly, hurling the ball above his head, creating another before the first can pass over his head. Asch takes the chance granted by Karl’s distraction and pushes the alpha off, darting toward the Archmage.

Kael holds open his other hand, Asch presses her stomach against the warm calloused palm, grabbing onto his arm and burying her face in his shoulder.

“Please test me,” Kael hisses, flame growing bigger, far more dangerous than the first. The alpha snorts, snarling but doesn’t say anything in retort. Kael coos darkly, “Now apologize to the lady, boy.” The alpha growls, but Kael tilts his head, eyeing him with intent. The alpha swallows, darting his eyes away.

“I’m sorry my lady.” With that Kael stepped them aside and the other alpha knew to leave quickly. “You shouldn’t be walking around.” He idly says, watching the alpha retreat, still holding her. “I took something,” she mutters, annoyed at her body.

“Those won’t work anymore because-“ he stops, shutting his mouth before he has any chance of finishing the sentence. Alpha. Pills won’t work because she has a alpha. An awkward moment passes as they stand in silence, Kael then removes himself reluctantly.

“Let me walk you home.” So I know you’re safe. His heart hurt.

Asch looks like she was going to refuse, before her face twisted in pain and her scent pumped out, Kael almost whines. Fresh slick hit his nostrils and burned his brain. “C-cramps.” She grounds out. Kael shakes his head, trying to shoo the senses away like a bothersome bee.

“O-okay...” she clings to his arm.


Kael knew people could smell her, no matter how harshly he forced his scent upon her. The way there was full of pauses he didn’t want to make, but the waves of cramps forced her to halt and bare into him. Asch almost looked like she wanted to fall over, but Kael wouldn’t allow that. A small part of him wanted to just pick her up and be done with it, but she would hate that.


So they hobble along, finally getting to her apartment. Asch fumbles her keys as he stands right behind her, caging every side his body didn’t reach with his cloak. People pause and gawk, sniffling the air until Kael bares his sharp fangs.

Asch turns, holding the knob of her door open, “t-thank you.” She says, trying best too meet his gaze. Kael sighs painfully, “you don’t have to thank me. This is my duty.” He shouldn’t have said that, but Asch didn’t seem to protest it.

Oddly instead of going inside and shutting her door in his face she stays, biting her lip. Kael frowns, tilting his head slightly “Asch?” She looks up, opening her mouth, then closing it.

Tugging at his side brings his attention, her hand is clasped around his cloak, “may I...
Can I have it?” Embarrassment flushed across her face as she asked. Kael softens, “of course you can.” It was almost too easy to give her what she asked. Kael picks at the clasps, pulling it around her. The bloody red colour makes her look a little sickly, but he can’t help but admire the way she looks in it.

“And- and that ginger bread? C-can you please make some?” Kael nods, creating a magical basket full of the warm bread. Asch cradles it too her chest, looking at it with hidden happiness.


“Thank you,” She gasps, pain running anew. Kael steels himself, pushing against the basket, “Inside.” His alpha voice was warm, commanding and Asch looks up with shiney eyes, “Go on, Omega.” It was killing him, but he stayed planted as she spun around and hurried inside. Kael has to close the door behind her, his head pressed into the wood.

Figuring out how to breath again was a challenge he somehow managed.

Moving was a lot harder.

Notes:

EDITED ON
February 16, 2019

Chapter 70: Illidan dabbles 13

Summary:

Illidan Stormrage/original female elf

 

This actually took a very different turn.

Mostly because I got really sad about the final cinematic and puked this out. Don’t worry though no real spoilers about the cinematic (mostly because I was half done the chapter when I watched it lol) but obviously there still is some so...

(Also I might be doing more of these kinds of chapters- you’ll know what I mean if you read all the way to the end)

Have my fluffy trash

 

WARNING
Legion spoilers

Chapter Text

“There is far too much good in you.” It had been nearly a month since the fall of Aggramar. Illidan had expected Asch to go stir crazy from the isolation, purely because it was only him and their baby. Edan was learning how to talk, very quickly. So far his favourite words were no, mine.


Illidan was exasperated.


Illidan was laughing, around their new home was a flush of new trees and plant life, Edan loved eating the peaches he could reach for.

“Someone has to be!” She snipes back, not looking up from her crop of carrots. Illidan snorts, “only you can bring life to this ungodly place.” Illidan was always fine on his own, preferred it before he made a family, but Asch wasn’t a social outcast as he was. But he should always expect to be pleasantly surprised by his wife.

“Speaking of which... your demon hunters are trying to figure a way to connect the fel hammer to this place. They seem to miss their leader.” Illidan appreciates his hunters, so much in fact he almost thought it was a good idea, but he almost wished they weren’t so loyal.

“They won’t stop will they?” Illidan shakes his head, watching Edan as his son stomped around on the soft grass. He was fairly uncoordinated because of his wings, the extra weight made him off balance but it was good he was learning. “It might be good, Edan might benefit being near people like him.” Something snapped in Illidan.

“He is not like them!” Asch flinches in shock, a worried expression crossing her face. Illidan cringes, shaking his head. “I... I don’t want him to grow up around demon hunters. I don’t want him to become one.” Asch coos, pulling herself up to him.

“He won’t become a demon hunter. Even if he wanted too you must preform the ritual for it.” Illidan wraps his arms around his wife, watching Edan as he sat in the grass staring at a flower, “I don’t want this life for him. For any of our children.” Illidan cups his hand over her stomach, sighing in pain. Asch rests her hands over his, kneading the flesh softly “I want them to have the choice.”

“They will illidan.”


In the time it took for humans to mature from babies to toddlers took Edan mere months, a little less because of his demon blood. The change wasn’t drastic at first. It begin on an upward slope. Edan in human years would be considered around five. Asch and Illidan saw it as normal but their poor son wasn’t easily adjusting too his now much larger wings. Time worked vastly different on Argus as well, Edan was more acclimated to the difference than his parents were since he was born here.

Illidan couldn’t say how quickly he would age or the difference Argus would make, so long as his son was healthy it didn’t much matter. Edan was also very polite and honest, he took and interest in his mothers plants and trees, much to Illidan’s dismay.

“Ada?!” Illidan peers over, his son was worrying his fingers, a habit from his mother. “Yes little one?” Edan wasn’t so little anymore but Illidan couldn’t help but continue to use the affectionate nickname. “Why are nanas eyes different then ours?” The odd turn about in all this was that Edan had no one to compare himself too but his father and since they were the same Asch was the strange one of the three.

It made for misunderstandings like this, but Illidan couldn’t say he hated it. Finally he wasn’t the one who was strange.

“Your mother was touched by the goddess Elune,” Edan frowns, “but why does that make her different?” Illidan wanted too say because I tainted you with my blood, but Asch would not appreciate that.

“Because I am different. I am half demon and elf. Which makes you the same as me.” Edan’s mouth pops open, a confused look crosses his face, “why are you different from mama?” Illidan leans over, taking Edan into his arms and settling him in his lap. “I made a choice too become different a long time ago.” Edan awes at this, blinking owlishly.


“Is that bad?” Illidan shakes his head before he finishes speaking, “absolutely not. There’s nothing wrong with your eyes.” Edan blinks slowly as if testing his eyes. “Why is nana big? She says I have to be careful when I hug her!” Illidan strokes his sons soft black hair, smiling lightly. “Nana has a baby inside of her. Your little brother or sister is growing. You have too be very careful.” Edan seems too ponder this, a little frown on his face.

“Is that alright...?” Illidan at least knew children might not like the idea of another baby, but Edan shakes his head, “I’ll be careful Ada I don’t wanna hurt nana.” Illidan ruffles his hair, chuckling. “Where did it come from?” Illidan cringes inwardly, children should not be so curious.

“I... gave it too her.” Edan awes at this, “you did?! How?” Illidan rubs his fingers into Edan’s neck, wondering how he was going to answer that. “I loved her so much it created a baby, just as it created you.” It wasn’t a lie, but it was a horrible half truth. Edan seemed enamoured by his explanation, “babies come from love?” Illidan nods, feeling like an idiot.


“Why do you love nana?” Illidan could answer that. “Because she loved me even though I didn’t deserve it.” “Oh-!” Edan chirps, smiling “nana said you were grumpy a lot,” Illidan snorts, a cute way to put it. “I... was.” His baby giggles at that, delighted. “What was nana like?” Illidan hums in thought, “She was patient, loving. My beautiful Druid.” Edan coos happily, clapping his little hands.


Illidan found his wife sitting in one of the last unholy grounds around Argus. Her head was cast up, looking into the vast deep nothingness.


In her open hand was a floating acorn, spinning slowly, “I was so afraid.” She sniffles, Illidan jolts, she was crying.

“Afraid?” Illidan slows to stop beside her, watching the tears run down her face. Asch doesn’t meet his gaze. “You have always had a path. You have... always known your duty.” She gulps, the acorn flickers in her hand, sprouting green roots from a brown shell. “I was just a girl- I always did what I was told.” Illidan cringes, slowly sitting down.

“I was so f-focused on my training I didn't even notice the war- didn’t notice the men being sent to die... all too kill you.” Asch shuttles eyes squeezing shut. “The pain was always with me.” Illidan touches her knee, trying to be supportive.

“But I... I did what I was told. I killed the mad king who dare wield Frostmorne- a dragon driven by the old gods.” She bites her words, struggling to speak over her tears. “An orc who killed his own people- even the left hand of Sargeras.” She swipes at her face, forced the tears to splatter on the ground.

“When I saw your prison I wanted to leave. I wanted nothing to do with it- because... because I was terrified.” Illidan’s brow furrows, “What for?” She laughs sadly, “because I thought you were going to pick her.” Illidan closes his eyes, Tyrande.


“I left before anyone could say anything because I... I was a weak little girl.” Despite her words a smile smile comes too her face, shiney with tears, “but when you picked me... I had never been so happy. It’s petty and jealous- something I thought I’d never be again.” She shakes her head, “it’s selfish. Everything I’ve done was selfish. Killing those threats upon Azeroth was because I wanted to forget you. Too feel something more than pain and regret.”


Illidan squeezes her leg, Asch sighs wetly. “My purpose was always you Illidan. I had never wanted anything more than your love.” Ilkidan stresses his fingers into her leg, “you have it Asch, I love you.” He thought it would bring her happiness, but she cries out in sadness, burying her face in her hands. “There was... only ever one path for you. This pain- this end. No one sees what you’ve done for them.”

Illidan is puzzled, blinking at her words. “You do.” He suddenly says, realizing it. Asch glances over, lip quivering. “You always have. You are the only one that believed my intentions were good.” Illidan pulls at her leg, trying to make her come to him.

“Come here Asch. Tell me what has you thinking all this?” Asch doesn’t move for a moment, but then she jumps into his embrace, crying into his shoulder. Illidan curls his arms around her, tightly gripping her.

“Just... just everything.” She mutters, unhelpfully. “Your purpose is fulfilled and... that’s what I wanted... but I imagined this so differently.” Illidan cradles her head, “what did you imagine?” Asch struggles to stay anything for a while, but Illidan could wait.

“I found it-“ she hiccups, Illidan is once again confused by her vague statement. “The glen. The place we snuck away too” she lifts the acorn up from between them, it was a sprout in her hand, beating to life with promise.


Illidan marvels, “This was from it... I found out it existed before we faced the unmarker... and I didn’t get too tell you.” With his free hand Illidan touches a delicate leaf. “Asch...” Illidan trails off, shaking his head, “let me take you home.”


Illidan stretches over the bed, leaning on his hand, wings creating a great shadow over his wife and sleeping baby. A small frown touches his face as he eases away, glancing back before shutting the door.

“Dwarf!” The diamond lord jolts with a snort, “What- what?! Elf?” The confusion in his stone face was almost comical, but Illidan was here for another matter.

“I need a favour from you.”

Magni listens to his request with raised brows, “that’s quite the favour Stormrage. What exactly are yah’ offering in trade?”

“I’ll watch the titan for a month.” This spikes his interest, “two!” Illidan grunts, glaring. “One and I won’t crave you new eyes, rock.” Magni snorts, shaking his head, “fine purple skin. I’ll have it ready tomorrow.”


Illidan wouldn’t tell Asch where they were going, made her wear his blindfold so she would have no choice but to go along with his surprise. It didn’t help that they passed through a cold place, then a warm place and finally another freezing place.

But when Illidan dropped her, he finally took the blind off and Asch blinks at the crisp white colour all around her. Wyrmrest temple. They were in Dragonblight.

“Illidan Stormrage,” Alexstrasza greets him warmly, despite her mistrust of demons. “Archdruid.” Asch bows, Illidan not crosses his arms, brow tilted in amusement.

“You were close with my sister, Asch Stormrage. She spoke lovingly of you.” Asch sputters, mouth agap. “Chronormu awaits you.” Asch blinks the starlight from her eyes, “Chronormu?”

Illidan simply bats at her to walk forward, smirking as she stumbles like a confused doe.


“Ah! Hi there!” Chromie waves, jumping excitedly, “Hello dragon,” Illidan inclines his head, the gnome giggles, “Illdian what are we doing here?” Asch blurts, a stressed look of concern on her face. Illidan smiles softly, “I have something for you.”

Chromie giggles again, “indeed he does! Come come!” The gnome leads them down inside the temple, where she then instructed both too sit. Asch was extremely guarded and fairly nervous, but Illidan made her sit still and promised it would be fine. “Now close your eyes. Illidan do you have memory?” He nods simply, “good keep thinking about it.”

Asch fidgets into his skin as Chromie begun casting a golden spell.


Asch was dazied, it was very dark when she opened her eyes. Her stomach felt sick and her eyes couldn’t make out any details of anything.

Asch pats the ground, it was hard but felt like dirt or sand. Asch eases up, around her was a tunnel, one she could see was full of roots and cracked dirt. Asch can do nothing but follow the path it leads.


There wasn’t anything behind or in front of her for a long time. It seemed she defended deeper into whatever howl she was lost in. Her robes were long and that of a apprentice, they didn’t do anything to staved off the chil.

Finally, as if she traveled the the core of the world itself, she found a thick barred door. Her fingers clasped around the frozen metal and yanked it open with a terrible sound. Asch shook her head of the noise and slipped through the gap.


Walking again in the dark she came too a set of stairs and hurried down them. At the very end was a room, with only a bed inside it.

Asch pulls more carefully at this door and once inside she frowns, confused.


“What has found its way too my prison?” Asch freezes, The not so subtle clack of the door being shut behind her causes dread to well up in her already disturbed stomach.

“A little priestess perhaps,” the voice has moved from one side to the other, cooing dangerously. “Or something else?” The shadow grows as the steps become heavier, closer.

Asch’s eyes dart to the side, but the figure is too quick and is already in front of her.

Asch exhales loudly, a breath she held in her chest wheezes out.


“Asch...?” The voice belonged to Illidan. She almost didn’t recognize him. His hair was much longer, up in a bushier high knot. His skin was darkened by the sheer blackness of the room.

“Illidan?!” She practically gasps out.

“What are you doing here?” He snaps, a worried tone in his voice “I... I don’t know.” A second of bewilderment passes over his face before unsettled realization, “This is a dream... or a cruel trick. Have those Wardens grown so bored they would stoop to using you to toy with me?!” Still, he approaches, a soft look upon his usually snarled face.

“How long as it been since I last saw you?” He wonders aloud, longing in his voice, “you haven’t changed at all- still as beautiful as I remember.” His hand was cold, but welcoming when it touched her face.

“I have thought of nothing else but seeing you one last time...” Asch stiffens, shuttering quietly as he continued to just look.

“You... you have?” Her whisper is almost to quiet to hear. Illidan cups her face, tilting it so she’s forced to look at him. The eyes behind the black cloth were burning alive and oddly beautiful. “I never forgot the night we spent together- you gave yourself too me and I abandoned you.” Asch remembers getting up alone and pulling on her clothes in shame.

The dried blood and cum were stained on her leg when she spoke to Malfurion.

“What I said to you was a lie. I loved you but I was weak and foolish.” Illidan suddenly hisses the words, spitting it like poison. Than he laughs, a sad sort of laugh that has her feeling his pain, “whether it truly is a cruel dream I will never know.” Illidan presses his forehead against hers, sighing woundedly.

“You were my destiny,” he mutters, “I saw it too late.” Asch feels tears begin to form, all the pain and sadness was lost. Mourning for her lost love- it was all vindicated.


Rolling up on her toes she catches his lips unexpectedly, a grunt forms in his throat but it quickly melts into a purr as his embrace tightens. “It’s not too late,” she says against his dry lips, licking her own.

“Stay-“ He almost begs, like before.

Asch never wanted to leave.


Illidan groans, awakened by a sharp pain in the fog. He shakes his head, realizing he is somewhere completely different than in his prison. Asch whines, flitching agasint his chest. He remembers now. They were in Dragonblight.

Chromie giggles again gently, smiling as they rose from the fog. “Welcome back!” Asch mushes a hand through her face, coming too her senses. A sudden pull and jolt and she’s looking at him.

“It wasn’t real?!” Chromie titters, “it was! Don’t worry... let me explain!” The gnome adjusts her seat, puffing her chest out before speaking, “what you saw was what would have happened, an alternate outcome- you two surprisingly have more than most do.” She waves it off, “gosh you two really missed out didn’t you.” She snorts, then cringes.

“Sorry...”


Illidan pays no mind, rolling his eyes. “It was real?” She asks again, softly and for only his ears. Illidan nods slowly, “I thought about you for thousands of years. I wanted too show you it was true- that you were never a second choice.” Much like the memory Illidan doesn’t expect the kiss when it happens, but is delighted all the same.

Chromie had escaped right before that, chuckling as he climbed the stairs.

When they part Asch is panting, smiling “what did she mean- ‘missed out on a lot’” Illidan muses, stroking her back, “I assume she meant moments in time we could have been together but weren’t.”

“Oh?” She gasps, excited.

“Oh?” He parrots, mocking her sweet tone.


Asch smacks him without mirth, scrunching her face at him in a cute way. “What moments?” Illidan grins, “should we find out?”

Chapter 71: Kael’thas Dabbles 2

Summary:

Kael’thas Sunstrider/original female character

 

Saucy elves

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

It felt like dying.

He was so far away from his omega and it felt like something was dying inside of him, a sick black plague moving its way through all his vital organs, killing the off one my one. Food was ash in his mouth, flowers smelt like rotting corpses and colours were dull.


Kael tried to focus on anything else, reading magic. Even practicing movements. None of it worked however. Words weren’t sinking in, magic was boring and movements he already mastered looked sloppy. His work was a chore and when he had classes he didn’t even pay attention, much less his students.

It was a young Jaina Proudmoore that spiked his dulling attention. A fresh faced omega that was so excited about magic. She twirls her blonde hair, looking up at him from her lashes. “Are you alright my lord?” Kael scoffs, hardly interested in answering. “Yes. Thank you for being concerned however.” Jaina beams anyway, not noticing his snark.

“There’s a gala tomorrow night, will you be there?” She had a plump, innocent face.

“Unlikely.”

“Oh,” she pouts, “I was hoping I would see you.” Kael rolls his eyes, erasing the magic purple scribble he wrote against the dark wall. “Why?” As he said it Kael began to read over just what he wrote, most of it was utter gibberish, what his students made of it must have been utter madness. “Well... you’re-
you’re brilliant and I...” She trails off, unsure of what to add. Kael stares flatly at the last of his scribbles, “I don’t need you too tell me that.”


Kael knew he was being rude. Knew he shouldn’t be talking to a student like this, but he couldn’t bring himself to be the polite gentlemen he was famed for being. Jaina shuffles, the sound making his ear twitch. Why was she still here?

“If I may be bold my lord,” She starts, continuing before he can stop her, “Gossip says you’ve taken a paramour.” Kael clinches his teeth, staring at the pink human girl with great rage, as if she noticed however.

“That is too bold.” He hisses, Jaina gulps, continuing to stare at the floor, “But it’s why you’re miserable- isn’t it?” Kael wanted to yell at her, squeeze her for the name of the person that had the audacity to speak of his attachments like it was some idle drama that amused the masses.


Kael doesn’t doubt it did however.

“Yes. It is.” He was filling the rumour mill. The girl was probably going to giggle about his pathetic love life to her friends and laugh at him. However, instead of run away, she bites her lip “Can’t you fix it?” Kael wasn’t sure how this even happened, but he kne he didn’t want to talk about it. Certainly not with her.

“Why?” He snaps, feeling this conversation become pointless, like everything else. “Because it’s your omega, my lord. You may feel awful, but it will never compare to what she must be feeling.” Kael had thought she was trying to flirt with him from the beginning. Now he was being lectured about being a bad alpha.


He did not need this.

“Don’t you think I know that?” His anger was dripping past his weak mask. “I’ve tried.” Jaina Proudmoore actually looked madder than he did, “You’re not trying hard enough!” She almost spat the words, glaring at him. “Do you know what being bond starved is like for an omega?” Kael honestly had no idea, no one had ever told him. In all his lessons it never seemed to come up.

“They’re scared all the time, they can’t eat or sleep right. They throw up constantly and their heats become so much worse- why? Because their body is trying to incite another alpha to fix what the first one broke!” Her hands sit on her hips, face forced into a scowl. It was hardly threatening, but Kael listened anyway as if it was.

“They get cramps and leak and- and bleed!” Kael cringes, Jaina huffs at him. Kael looks off to the side. “I... will fix it.”

 

Kael knocked, knocked loudly. Waited, but than found no answer. He still had his key, so he decided to open the door. Again it was dark and Kael feels the same dread he did when this all started.

“Asch?!” He belts, making his presence known. Nothing. He checked her living room, bedroom. Kael almost have into panic before he heard the faintest of cries. Stalking toward the guest room he found the closet open just enough.

Kael grips the door, pulling it open to find Asch in a nest made of pillows, blankets and his mantle. Curled in a ball and whimpering in terrible pain. “Asch...” he says softly, gaining her attention. Asch looks up at him with red eyes, “It hurts,” she moans, sniffling “The... the leaking won’t s-stop.”

Kael leans over, sniffing the air. Asch was stressed. The Proudmoore girl may have been right.

“Do you... can I help you?” She looks hesitant, but the cramps return and force her to double over. “O-okay...” Kael has never been allowed in an omegas nest. He’d seen them before, his mother had one and Kael wasn’t allowed to touch it unless she was there.


Now he was pressed against her closet wall, a stressed omega leaking slick fluid all over his robes. Kael carefully places his hands on her sides, petting her softly. Asch whines into his neck, clawing at his shoulders. Kael knew he could fix it, but his cock caused this problem in the first place.


She smelt so good, it was so painful.

A tight, reedy moan rips out of her throat and she bares down on his clothed cock, mouth opening against his bare throat. Kael wanted to throw her down, open her with his cock and make her feel better. Instead he snarls lightly, “omega.” He commands, making her hesitate and break away with a shy lick of her red lips.

“Be good.” He demands, bumping his nose into hers. Asch shutters, slick gushing between her spread legs. The clothes between them were ruined and heavy with her arousal. Kael takes his sleeve and runs it over her sweaty forehead.


Kael conjures ice again for her, “Open,” Kael places it on her tongue, watching her break it with her teeth, “Again.” He does this until the flush in her cheeks mellows too pink from red.

“Kael...” she whines, thighs flexing into his hips, the junction between her legs pressing into his hard cock. “Please- I want it please Kael.” The deranged begging was what he fell for last time, this time he wasn’t going too.

“It hurts Kael- please alpha please!” Kael grinds his teeth, nails digging into palm. “Omega enough.” Asch whines in response, swirling her hips in attempt to force him to do what she wanted. “Asch no, enough. You’re out of your mind.” He was here because he knew Jaina was right. He couldn’t abandon his omega, when her haze was over she was going to bite at him again and Kael couldn’t take that.


Asch wasn’t making it easy. “D-don’t you want me...? Am I not e-enough?” Kael shakes his head, huffing. “You are Asch. You’re everything. But you aren’t in your right mind.” Asch pulls up her nightgown, showing Kael her pink cunt and shiny thighs, “Please Kael l-Iook how wet I am f-for you!” Kael feels his waning patience almost become dust at her words.


Kael’s hand comes up to grip her hip, anchoring him to reality. “You are.” He can’t help but purr, “Please alpha- please touch me.” Kael flexes his fingers, debating what he could do.


Than it suddenly hit him. “You’ve been so good, how can I deny that?” Asch perks up, cooing excitedly. Kael allows his fingers to swipe and slip over her slit, drawing a pleased sigh from the omega. “I’ll make you feel better, omega,” Asch keens, humping into his hand as his fingers find home between her fluttering walls. “Please alpha- oh please.” Kael would have to figure out how long she had been stress heating. He wouldn’t be able too keep it up much longer. Kael wasn’t even sure how he’d made it this far without burying his cock so deep inside her it made a permanent mark.

Kael needed her to trust him again and repeating his first mistake wasn’t going to gain him any favours. Kael doubted even doing this was going to appear well. Honestly he had good intentions, but he didn’t think he’d find her in the middle of a heat when hers just passed. Another thing he’d never been taught about. Although it seemed everything he was experiencing was because he was a bad alpha and they never taught him this because they didn’t think he’d be a bad alpha.


Kael felt like a fool.


Asch came against his palm with a loud whine, her body dropped into his as she panted, eyes drooping. “Asch,” he purrs, wiping his hand on his completely ruined cloak. “Mhm...” She mutters, licking the sweat off his neck, “Bath darling.”


Asch didn’t want to move, but Kael made her. He drew a bath and placed her in it with a kiss against her forehead, than went about cleaning the nest. It was the alphas duty to replace what was wrecked and Kael pulled all the soaking wet clothes and blankets from the closet, putting them in her wash.

It was much like before, Asch smelt like spring and when Kael took Asch too her bed he fed her the ginger bread and made sure she had a cup of ice for the night.


Asch begged him to stay with her, so Kael agreed after she started to cry. Though he used a different blanket. Asch fell asleep long before he did, but Kael drifted off finally able to sleep.


It had too be late at night or too early in the morning when Kael was awoken by Asch perched on his hips. Kael blinks owlishly, frowning. “Kael...” her voice was softer, less needy. Kael pushes up on his fist, rubbing away sleep from his eyes with the other. “You didn’t- we didn’t...” Kael squints, “Is your heat-“ She nods quickly interrupting his question, “Stress heats go... away after an alpha...” she doesn’t finish, trailing off.


“Kael you didn’t... even though-“ he nods slowly, blinking slowly, “You took care of me.” He nods again, “I only- it was just my fingers and you couldn’t sleep so I stayed. I’ll go-“ “No please don’t!” She blurts, Kael tilts his head.

“You want me to stay?” The concept was baffling, far from his mind. “But I thought you- I bit you.” Asch’s eyes dart to the closed wound on her neck, drawing his to it as well. “You gave me space a-and gave me the cloak and ginger bread and didn’t... didn’t take advantage of me.” This time.


Kael’s heart hammered in his chest as it dawned on him. “Are you saying you...” Asch nods frantically, bending into him, “Please be my alpha?”


Kael never did anything small, not magic and certainly not mating.


The morning came with soft touches and still shy smiles. The laundry had finished over night and Kael was happy there weren’t any stains, Asch was upset because it didn’t smell anything like him. “I’ll wear it everyday for you,” He coos, mother always stole things from father and hid them in her nest. If his father wasn’t allowed in it to retrieve his things in secret he would go without half of his wardrobe for weeks.

Asch’s nest was rather small and Kael imagines it would stay that way for a while. The only reason any omegas nest grew was heats with an alpha or babies. Hopefully she would move out of the guest room closet because there was just barely enough room for him. Kael would grin and bare it if she didn’t. Whatever made her calm and happy.


The day was spent cleaning up the mess he made. Asch was no longer stress heating, but the bleeding started and cramps came on the hour, more painful then the last. Kael gave her ice chips and gingerbeard, hoping she would find her appetite. She had gotten very thin over the last month and it was worrisome.

Among the people that gossiped about Kael and his secret omega, there was only one other person who actually knew the whole story. Rommath. However he wasn’t surprised, in fact he scoffed and said it was about time.

Kael however wasn’t looking for a pat on the back, he came Rommath for help. “She’s bleeding and cramping and won’t eat,” he huffs, the best she could do was suck on the ice chips.

Rommath frowns, considering his words. “And you want me to make something?” Kael nods quickly, a hopeful glean in his eye. Rommath sighs, but gets up. “Alphas are silly fools.” Kael’s face turns sour, “You’re an alpha!” Rommath smirks over his bottles and herbs “Then I suppose it’s just you who is the silly fool.” Kael frowns petulantly at that, but can’t argue.

“Are you happy with this omega?” Rommath has a guarded sound in his voice, one Kael often heard when he was being serious. “I am- why?” Rommath throws a flat look over his shoulder at Kael. “It was an accident. You’re mated to this omega now and you can’t just get bored with her like you always do with them.” Separating a bonded pair was extremely hard and terrible. Omegas wouldn’t be able to find a new mate, heats would be bloody and painful. Alphas would be aggressive and dangerous, they wouldn’t form a bond either and rutting was life threatening.


“I don’t always get-“ Rommath stops him with a scathing glare, “Fine.” He grumbles, crossing his arms in a huff, “I won’t get bored- I can’t explain it Rom but something’s different... I just want to be with her constantly.” Rommath almost shows a ghost of a smile.

“I can- it’s the bite. You must be actual bonded mates. How rare.” What he was talking about wasn’t actually that rare. It can happen to anyone if they spent enough time together. Kael had spent years with Asch, they grew up and left for Dalaran together.


Asch was a lords daughter, her father was apart of his fathers royal council. They met as very young children and Kael remembers the first thing he ever said to her.

“Your hair is as silver as the moon.”

From then on their beloved nicknames for each other were sun and moon. Their parents thought it was sweet. When Kael presented as an alpha everyone was positive he would take Asch as a mate, but he couldn’t do that. Of course he wanted to, she was beautiful and became a wonderful smelling omega- but they both had aspirations.

Omegas were allowed to do anything an alpha could, so Asch and Kael decided to become Magi together, but she wouldn’t be allowed if she was married and mated off. Kael wouldn’t be able to bend the rules because his father and advisors would tell him to start thinking about getting her pregnant. And once that happened Asch wouldn’t be allowed to do anything but look after their babies.


So thinking long and hard, Kael decided to bury his feelings and join the Kirin Tor. It was still obvious however, the love and adoration he felt, but her studies were just as important as his and Kael wouldn’t take them away from her.

Gravely, he figures he now has. Once word reaches his father no doubt he’ll write back about a wedding and ceremony. Then they’ll insist she start thinking about closing her studies and trying for an heir.

Asch was a lecturer, a battle mage for the city. She taught students expert level offensive spells. Her duties were very important, almost more so than Kael’s own and he was one of the six on the counsel.


“She’s going to hate me once word reaches Silvermoon.” Rommath hums over the low blue flame, “I doubt that very much.” Rommath always scoffed when he thought someone was being stupid. “Her position here is important. The council will protect her from being forced to leave- especially for such a trivial reason as child baring.” Kael doesn’t think that’s a trival reason, but takes comfort in it.


“Even if she falls pregnant she can’t leave Dalaran. You can’t.” That at least was a silver lining. Kael’s work forced his presence here and pregnant omegas must stay with their alpha.

“Now here, take this to her. It won’t stop the bleeding but the pains will dull considerably.” Kael takes the glass bottle gratefully, “And make her eat something filling and fatty. You know how dangerous it is for omegas to get thin.” Kael leaves with a thank you and a promise to see his friend under less pressing circumstances. Rommath only shoos him away rolling his eyes.

Kael did as Rommath said and made her drink the whole thing before making her eat cheese and dark chocolate. Asch hated the chocolate, it was too bitter for her liking but ate it anyway. Kael would have to make her eat lots of things he knew she didn’t like, but it was necessity.

Notes:

EDITED ON
February 16, 2019

Chapter 72: Edan dabbles 4

Summary:

Stormrage family!

 

This is a shorter chapter because I recently asked a buddy of mine if I can post a cool world of Warcraft discord link!

https://discord.gg/7Sp8CAs

I hang out in here all the time along with some really cool people that are on all times of the day! So if you wanna come join the little family you’re welcome too! We talk about ocs and in game stuff! Vent to each other and have fun! (I’ll be super pompous and say you get to talk to me too lol) gush with me about my dabbles and I won’t shut up! Anyway! Love you all!!

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Asch was babying him, petting his hair, healing his cuts. Illidan was staring, hand clasped in front of his mouth, “countless demons you said?” He mutters angrily, Malfurion has stress lines etched into his forehead. “Yes... these tomes he has they... they explain every part of the ritual he performed. The possessed heart- the summoning circle. He... he planned for this.” Illidan snarls, smacking his fist into the wooden table next to him.

“Why!” Illidan hisses, looking at his son, “why would he want this?!” Mal settles beside him, touching his shoulder carefully. “He wanted to make his father proud.” Illidan buries his face in his hands, muttering “I never wanted this for him. I was proud I- didn’t I tell him enough?” Mal shakes his head, “of course you did- he loves you, Illidan.” Kair was sitting with her mother, on the floor in front of where they laid Edan out, her hands clasped in his.

“Sweetheart... be- be careful.” Asch mumbles “his nails...” claws, they were claws. Kair still cradles her brother hand too her chest, crying quietly. Edan’s breath were ragged, heavy and hard out of his chest.

Everything about their eldest changed, his hair, skin, eyes and horns. They were darker, blacker. Just like the smoke billowing from his shut eyes. It too was black and foreign absent the fel green Illidan missed now more then ever.


Edan makes a wounded noise and everyone tenses, watching his body seize up “ah...” his voice was now changed too, a darker more echoed tone then his old comfortable and light one.

“Edan!” Asch gasps, falling in front of him, Illidan stands, peering over with wide eyes. Carefully Edan brings his hand up, cupping his head and groaning. When his eyes ease open they spit out smoke, blazing like black fire. Edan blinks, eyes focusing on his father, “ada...?” His voice sounds over used and wrecked, like he hadn’t spoken in years.

“Edan,” Illidan sighs, not masking the wounded tone “how could you?” Edan opens his mouth, than looks away. “I just.... I wanted to be like you.” Illidan clinches his jaw, “you were enough like me!” He sounds bitter, hateful.

“Edan we didn’t want this for you.” His mothers voice is softer, “b-but I wanted-“ “no one wants to be an Illidari!” Illidan bites, looking away, “you had choices! Demon hunters never did!” Anyone who came to him lost everything, or had nothing to begin with. “We could have lost you! Look what you’ve done to yourself!” The mirror was laying against the wall, Edan sat up and stares at the strange elf looking back at him.

“That’s...” Illidan glares in the mirror, “it’s you now.”


The wings on his back were bigger, stained black. Mother and father weren’t pleased at all in his decision, but mother was at least happy he was alright. Father was just... upset. Edan caught him looking sometimes, looking pained and horrified. Edan himself was oddly fascinated by the change, everything looked and felt different, new.

 


One day Edan approaches his father, intent on understanding his new self, but Illidan wasn’t interested, brushed his eldest off. “Ada please-“ “Edan enough!” Edan huffs angrily, “Ada!” Illidan’s great head spins around, covered eyes glaring. “I need help...” none of the other hunters could even understand the power he now had, it far passed their own. There was no hope they would help him.

Illidan growls, a feral wolfish sound ripping from his chest, “your body is more demon than elf. Your soul has consumed thousands upon thousands of demons- I don’t even know what your capable of anymore.” Edan had never felt so out of place, his father had never been mad at him, This was all new and he was struggling.

“Please ada...” He mutters, trying not too well up with emotion, “I just wanted you to be proud of me.” This breaks the hard lines in his fathers face. “I was already proud of you Edan. But this... this life isn’t glorious, it is full of hatred and fear. Why would you want that?”

Edan slumps against the wall, looking at the rubble present. “People were already afraid of me ada. Maiev said she would lock me away just for being your son.” This caused his father to snarl for whole other reasons, but Edan shakes his head. “I just wanted to be like you.” Illdian feels touched by it, but still wonders why anyone would ever want to be at all like him.


But Edan did inherit his mothers uncanny way of surprising people.

Notes:

EDITED APRIL 20, 2018

Chapter 73: Neltharion dabbles 6

Summary:

Neltharion/female blood elf

 

This is a really old piece that I just threw up here because I gotta delete it...

 

Thank you so much for the 10000+ views! This is so amazing!

Chapter Text

Wrathion stayed far away as he could, Anduin didn't really understand why, but the short of it was Neltharion would slaughter him. They could hear Asch, the pain filled screams and his father hissing at Alex. Not fault of his own, but it was rather amusing.

It was into the early morning and his mate was sleepy, but Wrathion wouldn't miss the birth of his new sibling, or how jumpy his father was.


The pain was unimaginable. Alex was off to the side, keeping away until she was needed, Neltharion was acting strange, anxious. Asch knew it was just how dragons seemed to be but it was rather annoying how he was hovering, irritated at his sibling. Asch was tired, kept awake by pain. She had gotten no sleep so far and even in the pauses where her contractions diluted off she found no rest.

Alex said it would be a long time yet and Asch was upset by it. The sun was rising low in the sky, it was nearly morning now. Besides the pain, Neltharion was being no help. Pestering his sister about being there and being altogether unhelpful. At times he claimed enough to act normal, holding her hand and cooing. Resting his hand gently on her belly or wiping sweat from her brow. Now he was pacing, staring angrily at the floor and dealing with his own internal struggles.

The situation was altogether unnatural. Neltharion and other black dragons were all the same about births. Private and offensive. Easily prone to lashing out at the slightest irritation or interruption. Neltharion told her in a perfect world he would carry her on his back to a very private cave in god knows where. Asch would give birth to his brood and they would stay hidden for days. Neltharion had to adjust himself completely to make this work. Asch had learnt over many late night chats that black dragons were both incredibly private and very pompous about flaunting. Asch didn't even try to understand. One thing she knew for certain was that they did not like anything near their young.


Alex perks up, rushing toward Asch in a careful hurry. Neltharion snarls, watching with hatred and coiled muscles. Asch hisses in great pain, a rush going to her head. "Ah, it's time." Alex seemed very happy, but of course she would. This would be the first baby she delivered for another. Neltharion swoops in like an vulture, looming angrily.


In the next hour their son, Tylarion was born.

His hair was shell white and soft to the touch. His eyes were magma red and melting around their sockets. His ears were tall and blunted at the tips and he was ashen, just like his father. Tylarion had small, bumped horns and hid in his hair, but were noticeable. They were black in colour, as were the scales on his tiny body. They mostly gathered around his shoulders, inner elbows and neck. Tylarion had no tail, but he could possibly get one in the future.


As soon as it was safe Alex disappeared. Finally Neltharion was acting himself, cooing at his new baby and lovingly nuzzling Asch's neck. It wasn't long after Neltharion started to gather their things together. It was time to go off to this hidden cave it seems.


Neltharion allowed his son and his mate to see the baby, Wrathion excitedly cooed and congratulated his father, backing off quickly. Besides Anduin, everyone knew that Neltharion had a short fuse. "We'll be home sometime." Asch says, smiling into Tylarion's hair. Wrathion knew that meant possibly months.

Neltharion was very affectionate once they got into the hidden home located in whatever mountain on whatever part of the world. He was purring, wrapped around Asch, touching his baby as he suckled on his mother. "Beautiful little boy," Asch sighs happily at his cooing, "my pretty wife. I adore you. Look what you've made me." Neltharion sounded so smitten, his hands were always on both Asch and Tylarion, imprinting he called it.

"Gorgeous. I'm so proud of you."


"Oh stop-" she giggles, nuzzling her face into his waiting skin. Neltharion was pouring his pleasures onto his wife. “I won’t,” he purrs, a nice rumble on his chest. Asch leans into him, happy and content, amused by all his dragon like tendencies. “Neltharion...?” He hums, petting his babies soft hair, “is it.. hard to be with me?” She had never gotten too ask him, the difference between them were as tall as mountains.

“What do you mean?” He had an adorable frown etched across his handsome face, Asch bites her lip, looking down at their baby. “You’re a dragon... I’m not- isn’t it hard? Isn’t it too different?” Asch knew mixed matings were difficult to begin with, humans and elves didn’t age them same and Draenei and Orc’s had too much animosity.

Elves and dragons, or dragons with anyone but their own kind was odd.

Neltharion considers her worries, humming softly, “not so. I have never been interested in my own kind. I don’t have any desire to mate with one, or mate in my true form. Are you worried you aren’t enough?” Asch nods, because, yes. She was worried. Dragons were complex creatures that were often prideful and close minded to other races. “You have children from other black dragons-“ “by necessity, not choice. I have chosen you. Being in this form feels just as natural as my true form, making love too you is far more pleasuring than with any black dragon.” He pauses, cradling her and Tylarion closer.

“The gap between us is not so large as you may think, darling. What can I do to prove this?”

Chapter 74: Edan dabbles 5

Summary:

Edan Stormrage/Jarod Shadowsong

Thank you all so much for 100 kudos! Enjoy the new chapter!

Chapter Text

Edan leans on his knees, glaring all around him as the hunters his father created look at him.

His hair hung around his face, framing spikes and the otherwise handsome face, “black fire...” Kayn Sunfury was astonished, starring obviously and long. Illidan grunts, standing with his arms crossed. “Amazing. You said a thousand thousand demons?” Illidan glances at his son, shrugging “more.”


Some hunters flinch back, a worried scrunch in their brow. “How is that possible?” Illidan round sbejind his son, elbow brushing his icky black wing. “The ritual he used killed the demons and left their power. He is completely in control.” Some marveled at the explanation, some were visibly angry. Illidan was boredly cutting away at a black rock.


Edan tilts his head, “Ada what are you doing?” Illidan looks over from his work at his son, “making your mother something.” He tilts the rock, showing the shine on the surface. “Ah.” Edan smiles, “ma will love it Ada.” Illidan nods, chipping away again.


“So... you want us to train him?” Illidan licks his teeth behind his lips, fisting the rock before speaking again, “no. I’m going to train him. You are going to tell me it’s possible.” Kayn bites his lip, circling Edan again. “It certainly... wouldn’t be impossible.” Illidan nods once before passing the rock to Edan, “hold it until we finish today.” It was a heavy thing, Edan pockets it and follows his father to the centre of the ship.


Illidan points to the other side of the circle, Edan goes wordlessly, watching as hunters all around begin to stop what they’re doing and watch. Edan forgets it must have been ages since Illidan has trained with his hunters. It must be a treat.

“Edan,” his booming voice rings across the whole of the ship, shaking his very bones. “I’m going to come at you. Stop me.”


It was his only warning before his father launched forward.


Asch decided to bring the mother matron flowers every so often because the impressive women was inthralled by the beautiful colours and spoke so highly of Druid’s. Stepping through she found no demons to greet her, which was very unusual because they generally had one to do so. Besides the fact most did not like her being here many loved her simply because Illidan made more of an effort with his hunters because of her.

And besides the fact he was more pleasant now then ever before.

Asch steps passed the open archway, frowning as she saw demon hunters crowded around the middle of the ship, when she looked up she was shocked to find Illidan darting around, with their son.

The basket dropped and the keen hearing of a few demons heard, turning and paling when they saw the wife and mate of Illidan Stormrage.

Few by few they stopped and looked at her, shame eagerly finding their cheeks and expressions. It wasn’t until Illidan noticed their audience had stopped being interested did he halt his swiping, allowing Edan to cut into his chest with his black claws.


“Asch?” He was breathless, either from the impact of the hit or sheer horror Asch could not tell. Edan only stopped because he was baffled he actually hit his father. “What- mom?!” Instead of shock she was now fuming.

“What is this?!” Hunters stood at attention even though she wasn’t their lady.


“Asch I-“ Asch stomps down the steps, huffing right in her husbands face, “unbelievable! Why didn’t you tell me?!” Illidan’s mouth is dangling open, nothing comes out. “I asked mama- I asked him! Don’t be mad!” Edan swoops into his father’s defence, desperately clinging to her side. Asch glares over at her son, gasping.

“You’re bleeding?! You made him bleed?” Now a whole new problem.

 

There was yelling at the back of the ship, mostly mother at father, but you could hear the soft sound of his father’s voice trying to soothe her.


“Illidan that’s our baby!” She howls, baring her little teeth. Illidan puffs out a harsh breath, “and how is our other baby?” The claws trace her belly, distracting her thoughts “What- fine their... Illidan!” His hands pulls her hips, pulling her until she was pressed into his chest, the bulge of their unborn child pressed against him. “Asch. Edan wants to learn to use his abilities. Don’t be upset please.” He nuzzles into her stomach, cooing. “Edan was born around this time. You shouldn’t strain yourself my love.”

Asch rolls her eyes, “that doesn’t excuse not telling me this.” Illidan nods obediently, “never again. Now let me take you home. Edan will be safe here and I won’t let him get hurt again.”


Asch cups his cheeks, smiling lazily, “you owe me darling.”

Edan wasn’t sure where he was going exactly, but he was trying. It had been a while since Jarod and he had met and Edan wondered if the warrior would even want to bother now. Edan sees himself in rippling water has he passes and cringes. His appearance ad change considerably, mostly for the worse. Edan wondered if Jarod would even recognize him now.

Asking for him was a folly, people wouldn’t even look at Edan as he tried to approach, some even ran the other way.

Eventually a priestess came up to him.

“You seem to be lost?” She smiles lightly at the hopeless look he much have had. “I... not lost my lady- looking for someone.” She showed surprise at the sound of his voice, “Oh? Whose that?” She sounded nervous, but it was kind of her to try.

“Jarod Shadowsong.” The priestess perked up visibly, “Ah! I knew it was you- Edan Stormrage! You’ve changed I- I wasn’t sure...” she lets a nervous laugh go. Edan smiles softly, “I have... a lot- do you know where he is?” The priestess nods eagerly, beckoning him along as she turns around.


Edan knew the irony of a demon hunter following a priestess, people looked at them strangely as they passed through. “He’s right over there!” Edan cranes his neck, squinting as he tries to look over the many heads blocking his view. It was the flash of white hair that caught his attention.

“Thank you very much my lady,” Edan hows properly and she flushes, giggling “you’re very welcome...”


Approaching the table was very awkward, everyone but Jarod was already looking at him and scowling, Edan still holds his head high like his father always tells him too.

“Sir Shadowsong?” Jarod’s head swivels, bold eyes widening. For a moment he just stares at Edan before saying anything. “Edan..? Is that... you?” He didn’t sound disgusted or revolted so Edan takes it as a good sign. “Yeah... hi-“ Edan curses himself, his wings twitch in response.

“What happened?” Jarod parts from the crowd around him, going so far and to gently grip Edan’s forearm. “I happened,” he snorts lightly, shaking his head, “I... made myself into a demon hunter-“ he waited for the blade to fall.

“You did?” Edan nods, biting his lip. Jarod blinks, head tilted “how did you do that?”

“It’s a long story...”

“Start at the beginning.”


Jarod walked them away, into the forest path that Edan found a little cramped but he didn’t complain. Edan told the whole story, how he stole from a dragon vault and played with impossibly ancient magic he shouldn’t have been. How he lied to Khadgar and used a demonic book and exactly what it felt like to have thousands of demons attach to his very soul.

By the end Jarod looked a little lost and more than baffled.

“Well... blacks a goos look.” This made Edan burst out laughing, Jarod slowly followed shaking his head. But it ended shortly.

“So... do you still want to see me?” Edan didn’t know what they were, what exactly to call it. Edan just knew he was probably in love with the commander.

“Of course I want to Edan- this hardly changes anything.” Edan should have left it at that and been happy with the response but he decided to speak anyway, “hardly... changes?” Jarod nods, “well- I thought you were interested in becoming a warrior and I was going to offer myself as your teacher but now...” a handsome smile, “now I can court you properly.” Edan felt stupid.


Of course it made sense now. Jarod was trying to be subtle- not because he didn’t like Edan but because he wanted to teach him. Now with that out of the way...

“Will you kiss me?!” Edan felt his wings snap back into his body. Jarod smirks gently.

His lips were very soft and very quick in their work, a soft peck that didn’t last as long as Edan hoped, “I’ll give you another- tonight.”

“Tonight?”

“Tonight when I take you too dinner.”

He needed to tell his mother immediately.


As expected his mother was so excited, father was grumbling but otherwise couldn’t hide the pride in his eyes.

“Oh wonderful my moon! I’m so happy for you!” She squeaks, mushing his cheeks. “But don’t forget we’re going back home in two days- be sure to tell Jarod that.” Father made an agreement with Magni Bronzebeard that allowed him too leave to Azeroth for a few days, but it also meant not being able to come back for a while.


Edan was happy however, if he wanted to come back he could just go to the Fel hammer and go straight to Dalaran. Portals made his head hurt but it was better than taking a boat to Darnassaus. Mother did it sometimes when she needed something and didn’t want to spend the day.

The home on Azeroth wasn’t as big as the one they had on Argus, mostly because mother didn’t think Edan was going to have siblings. It was fine anyway. Kair shared a room with Tadeas while he got his own. Kair loved their littlest brother and didn’t mind so much that she didn’t have her own space, Edan found his room a little cramped but for the time they spent here wasn’t worth getting a new home.

“Where is he taking you?” Kair asked, on the floor with Tadeas, Edan shrugs “he just said dinner.” Father frowns deeply, “has Maiev seen you?” Edan pales.

He’d completely forgot about her.

“N-no.”

“Do What I taught you.” One thing had never changed in hunter training and that was how to kill a Warden.

Mother huffs, “He will not! He needs to be better than that!” Illidan isn’t convinced, “he is better than that. But don’t think for one second she wouldn’t kill him the first chance she got, Asch.” His mother deflated a little, becoming upset.

“Edan,” his father beckons him, a claw curling. Edan follows, looking up at his father. “If it comes to that, defend yourself and if they call you a monster so be it.”


Edan was the son of a Demon and a Druid, he and his siblings would forever be branded as tyrants and evil spawn. Mother wanted him to be better, show them that he wasn’t just the Betrayers son. Father wanted him to be strong, wanted him to fight back.

Edan didn’t know what he was really suppose to do, but he would at least do what was right.

Chapter 75: Edan dabbles 6

Summary:

Stormrage family

T3T I’m hurting my babies feelings

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Edan felt under-dressed as he walked side by side with Jarod. There wasn’t much he could wear over his chest because of his wings, so he was all but exposed.

 

Instead of going to dinner Jarod lead him around a pond, Fey dragons and fireflies lit up the area with a soft yellow glow that shines against the waters surface.


“How is training?” Jarod asks, Edan smiles “painful- my father isn’t going easy.” This made the other chuckle, “I assumed he wouldn’t.” Training with father was one of his favorite times of the day. Edan got to see how strong his father really was and learn all kinds of tricks from him. Mother wasn’t very happy but encouraged him nonetheless.

“What’s it like to live on Argus? You were born there yes? Is it more of a home than Azeroth?” Edan bites his lip, “I was yes... mother has brought most of the life back into it. I like it there very much.” Edan pauses, trying to find the right words, “I like coming here- but it isn’t home.” Argus, as ugly as it once was, was Edan’s home. It was the place he hoped to live and hoped to see others one day.


Some of the hunters had created homes out of the caves there, one being Kayn Sunfury- only because he said the Fel Hammer was too crowded most of the time. Edan thinks he’s lying though. Argus was empty, full of potential and missing all the prejudice Azeroth had for Demon hunters. Eventually Edan assumes more of them will build their lives there rather than here.

It was a warming thought, they were his fathers and now Edan’s people. On Azeroth he was outnumbered and disliked.

“I understand, I have heard your mother was doing good work- Argus almost looks different when you look up.” It didn’t really, but it will. Mother and Magni were figuring out how to piece the planet parts back together. Edan was excited for the day Argus became whole again.

“What a delightful surprise-“ Edan’s eyes widened, “I knew I could smell demon filth!” Maiev was always all but subtle. “Sister!” Jarod sounded angry, but the warden completely ignores him. “Look at it,” She belts, “more and more like your father.” Maiev almost sounds teasing. Edan swallows, steeling himself as she rounded the both of them.

“Sister enough! Edan hasn’t done anything wrong!” Jarod tries, but is ultimately ignored. “It’s almost sad,” her voice curls, “what will I tell your whore mother when I bring her your corpse?”

In that moment, it was almost as if someone else was in control.

Edan lunged at her, his fury was blind but precise as he gouged at her armor. It made a sickly noise as his claws tore at the plate. Maiev snarls and swiped at him, forcing Edan to dodge and skid back, ruining the grass.

“Stop that!” Jarod shouts, but neither listen. Maiev’s blade is drawn and her laughter echos out of her helm, “yes just like your father- he did the same thing!” With that she swung her blade.

Edan smacked it away, barely nicking his arm as he clawed at her chest again, ripping more metal, but just missing soft skin. “I’m not like him!” Edan doesn’t recognize his voice as he smacks her with his wing, forcing her to topple over. Before she can gain any footing his claw is tightly wrapped around her throat. “I’m better.” Beyond the blazing of black fire and rage he can see the wardens pale eyes widen underneath her helm.

The fear of death, the utter shock. Edan revels in it as someone tugs arm his arm. “Edan let go! Stop this!” Jarod yells at him, Edan hisses purely like a demon as he glare at the other, “why?!” The question was fair, why should he stop? Why shouldn’t he kill her?

“Because your mother wouldn’t want this!”

The dam had broke and all at once Edan felt and saw just what his mother would feel if he did this. She would be so unhappy with him, so upset. Edan squeezes her throat before wrenching away, clawing at his shoulder.


Jarod pulls his sister against him, yanking her helm off as she starts coughing in a fit. Edan stumbles back, terrified.

Edan can barely see in front of him, but he manages to escape.

Pain hits his chest in waves of unsettling churning, rage is his company has he slams the door behind him. The house was settled and dark, but Edan can easily hear his father jolt and stir, alert for danger.

Edan doesn’t bother to move then, he collapses onto he floor in a heap of himself, wings clapping into the hardwood floor. His father emerges from the stairs, between waking up and coming down he must have smelt it was Edan and carried no weapon.

As if he needed one.

“Little one,” The childhood nickname has Edan bursting into tears, wailing like a wounded animal. Illidan rushes over, “Edan shh it’s alright- come here.” He felt foolish, weak but Edan launches himself into his father’s embrace. At some point in his fit of tears his mother came down, worried and confused.

She doesn’t say anything and only moves to sit on the floor, waiting.

Edan feels like a child, but his father won’t let him go. Edan’s claws dig into his father’s hide, likely cutting his skin but Illidan doesn’t notice as he coos soft words and pets his brittle hair.

Edan’s cries became hiccups after awhile and his black tears stained his cheeks, but nothing new fell and now he snivels quietly against his father’s neck. “Little moon,” his mother says, hugging his side as best she can manage. Edan sniffles, shuttering as he feels her life magic heal his cuts.

“I-I-I almost...” he tries, “ki-killed h-h-her.” They didn’t have to ask who.

“S-she said a-awful things a-a-and I wanted... I w-wanted to kill h-her” his father squeezes him harder, hushing him. “You didn’t little one. You wouldn’t.” Edan shakes his head “but I w-wanted too!” Edan can hear Tadeas crying upstairs and feels wretched.

“Up, up!” His mother says, stroking her hand over his back, “lets get you something too eat.” Mother always made the best fruit plates and tea. She makes Edan eat the whole thing before letting him speak another word.

“What happened little moon?” Edan explains.

Illidan was snarling by the end of it, glaring off too the side, crossing his arms tightly. Mother was in the floor in front of Edan, petting his leg and nursing the wounds she missed. “I... I don’t think I should see him again.” Edan felt great pain at admitting it, but nothing good would come out of being with Jarod Shadowsong. As much as he liked him- loved him. Edan wasn’t sure.

But he knew it would do neither of them good.

“No... I don’t think so either little moon.” Mother is upset by it too, lip jutted and eyes shiny. Edan didn’t want too see his mother cry because he knew he might start bawling all over again.

There was sudden rapping at the door, a hurried but soft noise. Edan and Illidan knew who it was because they could smell it. Mother knew because it couldn’t be anyone else.

“I can send him away?” She offers, head tilted in question. Edan looks at his father, Illidan nods gently. “No I have to talk to him.”

His parents stayed there, promised not to leave until he came back, Edan felt a little silly but became confident because of them.

When Edan opened the door he stepped through and closed it before even looking at Jarod.

“Hi...” he says lamely, attempting to smile. Jarod has a tight face, “hey...” he pauses, “she’s okay, you didn’t hurt her too bad.” That was at least a relief.

They stood in silence, knowing what was coming. “I’m sorry Edan-“ “I know Jarod. It’s okay.” Weights lifted off the other shoulders, “you’ll find someone better- younger. One who doesn’t have a sister hellbent on...” he trails off, cringing lightly but smiling anyway.

“It could have been nice.” Edan says, although, he shouldn’t have because it made him sad all over again. Jarod looks upset too. “Could have...” another pause, “I guess this is goodbye, little prince.” Edan can’t help his tears. Jarod can’t either.


“G-guess so...” Jarod hesitates, but then leans forward, kissing his forehead.

Edan stands there, crying all over again as he watches Jarod walk away. The warrior doesn’t look back and Edan doesn’t look away until even his shadow is well gone.

It’s his mother who comes out and gets him, coaxing him back inside. Illidan fans a hand through his hair, smiling softly. Edan smiles back although it pains him.

Maybe it was the right thing after all.

Notes:

EDITED Dec 21,2017

Chapter 76: Kael’thas dabbles 3

Summary:

Kael’thas Sunstrider/original female character

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

There was quite the question of what would happen now.


What would happen?

If young Jaina Proudmoore knew then surely her stupid boy alpha did too, where Jaina was quiet he was not and that meant everyone who meant anything knew, and even those who didn’t.

There was no letter or notice, not even a emissary from Silvermoon. Kael was beginning to worry.

Things were still dodgy at best with Asch. She returned to the department but as expected stupider mages expressed their distaste. The other five on the council weren’t dull however and knew Asch was good enough on her own. They didn’t much care either when he tried to explain. The gossip had gotten so far Kael didn’t doubt Stormwind was full of it. The council wasn’t interested and said magic mattered here more then who was mated to who.

Asch was huffy anyway, Kael understood, omegas were undermined at every turn. Being called a social climbing whore however was definitely something too be mad about. Kael allowed her independence on every avenue he could. Which left him in limbo for most everything his instincts told him to do.

What he wanted and what Asch needed were opposites at the moment and it was difficult to grapple with it. For one he wanted her to move into his apartments, they were bigger and he even cleared his closet out for her nest. At least, he hopes she would use it for her nest. It fit two people easily, but omegas were finicky and if they didn’t like something it was forgotten completely.

For another he wanted to parade around parties with her, show off what other couldn’t have. Asch was beautiful and smelled delicious, it was silly postering but Kael needed to do it.

Asch was not one to be nudged however and Kael certainly wasn’t going to poke that hornets nest just yet, especially with all the backlash that she was receiving.


The worse news was, where his parents were quiet Asch’s were not. Day after day they sent letters congratulating her and Kael. At first it was pleasant but then became passively aggressive. It begin with asking about weddings, then babies and moving back home and forgetting her teachings to learn more important things. Asch wasn’t one for fire magic, but she burnt a whole garbage bin of letters and stormed off.


Soothing her wasn’t an option, when he tried it she exploded on him like a firey erupting volcano. Rommath had laughed at misery and Kael wasn’t amused.

Sometimes there was a silver lining, once or twice a week Asch would knock on his door, usually in the dead of night in tears. Kael didn’t like her doing that because Dalaran wasn’t exactly safe for omegas, but was happy she was coming too him at least.


Those times she blurts out all her feelings, spending hours just expelling the poison locked inside her. Kael learned quickly that sleep was for men without omegas.

Eventually she would trail off and make no sense and that was the window of opportunity Kael feasted upon. Coaxing her to bed was easy after she was cried out. Usually she was very cuddly and Kael became a mess of alpha. Purring and scenting. Asch said he did it in his sleep.

Kael couldn’t help it. Alphas just became affectionate, sickeningly so. He didn’t understand it before, but he didn’t have an omega before.

Rommath said it was kind of pathetic looking, in his quest to allow her indepence he opened the door to uncertainty.

An alpha should live with their omega, but with everything happening Kael didn’t think it would be helpful. Rommath agreed on this front, but also called him a fool of an alpha. It looked bad if they didn’t live together, making more annoying rumours Asch would hate, but living together would bring up annoying questions.

Like if she was pregnant or if there would be a wedding, what it was like to be a princes omega. And so on.

Kael feels like he’s completely undermined Asch, Rommath unhelpfully tells him that, yes. Yes he has. Kael snarled at that, but Rommath said omegas were all destined to be undermined because that’s just how it is.

“But,” Rommath quips, “At least you’re trying.” And that is sadly, all he can ever do now.

Kael walks down the familiar hall, turns left just stopping short of the turn and opens the door to the room he’s accustomed too. Asch was in the middle of teaching and all her students look over in interest. Kael simply leans into the wall and says nothing while Asch trails back to her words, looking over at him with a muted scowl.


She hated him doing this before because oh look the prince Kael’thas. Now it was, oh look! Miss Marigold’s alpha, prince Kael’thas. The worst gossip was from the students, the Omegas would giggle and whisper how handsome he was, how lucky Asch was and her alpha students were cutely attached and get huffy.

The lesson was almost over and the students were hastily trying to copy Asch’s now very fast scribbling, the crease in her brow was as steep as a ravine and she was snapping out her words like Rommath did when he was tired of stupid people.

Kael chuckles quietly, crossing his arms over his chest as students file out after the chime of the bell. He hardly pays mind to their whispers and batting lashes- or the challenging rumble from the alphas.

“You can’t just walk in here!” She gripes, glaring at him. Kael hums gravely, sauntering over. Asch doesn’t move or bite at him when he nuzzles his cheek into hers affectionally, “I missed you, how was your day?” Kael ignores her snap like usual and Asch sighs through her nose, hopping up in her tiptoes too gently kiss his cheek. “It was fine. Boring mostly...” she pauses, blushing before she says, “I missed you too.”

Routine was going to lunch, showing her off around the campus, but instead Kael twirls his hand and creates a portal. Asch eyes it and he smirks, jerking his head toward it. Asch’s steps through and is surprised to find herself in his kitchen.

“What’s this?” She asks over her shoulder, listening as the warp of the portal produces him behind her and flashes as it vanishes. “You’ve been stressed lately and I thought a private lunch was in order.” Asch melts a little inside, shouldering dropping from their stif formal set. “Thank you Kael.” He nuzzles the back of her head and Asch falls into his embrace, allowing the alpha his pleasures.

“Anything for you,” He coos, squeezing her before letting go. His palm swipes over the table and food erupts from magic. He pulls her chair out before sitting and then waits for her to take what she wants like a diligent alpha.

They peck at their food in silence before Asch breaks it, “So my medic says I’ll be getting heats regularly now. It should be toward the end of this month.” Kael knew that already, he already had the time booked off.

But he wasn’t going to tell her that.

“Where would you like to spend it?” Two apartments meant two choices, one more choice then Kael would have liked. Asch fiddles with her food for a moment, bitting her lip as she overturns a piece of chicken. “Here... I’d like to spend it here. And t-the others too.” Kael accidentally stabs the bit of salad he was attempting to pick up.

“Really?” Asch nods shyly. “It’s more senseable... a-and I miss you a lot and it’s lonely...” Kael can’t help but smile, “Would you like to move in today? Or before your heat?” He didn’t want to sound eager, but he was. “Today after work... I’m sorry it t-took so long.” Kael coos, shaking his head.

“It’s alright, it wasn’t the right time.” Kael puts his fork down, “Come here I have something to show you.”

Kael leads her by the hand to his bedroom, gently tugging open his closet, “I cleared it out weeks ago for you. Is it... good?” Asch steps inside, looking at the roof and touching the walls, turning with tears in her eyes, “It’s perfect Kael thank you so much!” Kael allows himself to feel very proud.

Kael wasn’t sure if it was just his omega or all omegas that got as cold as she did.

Sleeping was hel because as a fire mage Kael was already warm enough, but Asch.

She seemed to be frozen all the time.

Their bed now had four different kind of blankets on it. The one Kael actually used, then her own, a throw blanket and a wool blanket Kael was certain was meant for winter.


Asch was smitten however, she smelt extremely good and was happy. When they slept she clung to him. Kael liked the mornings best.


Kael awoke slowly, stretching lazily into the pillows. His hands climbed up the soft thighs. He squeezes the flesh, ears twitching as he hears her giggle.

“Again?” He asks with a teasing tone in his sleep ridden voice. The past four mornings he gotten this surprise. “Alpha,” she whimpers, wiggling against his groin.

“Omega.” Kael liked opening his eyes, Asch was perched atop his hips, wearing a little silk night dress. “I have an early class you know.” She pouts but he relents.


Kael was very late for his class.

Notes:

EDITED ON
February 16, 2019

Chapter 77: Elowinn dabbles 3

Summary:

Original male Draenei/original female Draenei

 

Merry Christmas from Me to you!
(And Dobera and his family!)
This is for Elowinn! I hope you love it!

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Dobera was worried day in and out about what would happen, how it would happen and when it would happen.

The day he decided to adopt Théoden was both the worst and best day of his life.


The little blood elf was the light of Elowinn’s life. She spent all her hours with him, showing him Dalaran, showing him Lights Hope Chapel. She would even bring him to Dobera.

Théoden didn’t get to see his father much, but it was enough that the boy wanted to become a paladin more than he did a priest when Dobera first met him.

Dobera overlooked the frozen hills passed Hope Chapels walls, for the first time in weeks he’s been able to return home for more then just a supply pick up.

The golden steed he sits upon snorts and shifts on its hooves, Dobera leans over and pats his side, shaking some snowflakes off his shiny coat.

“Ada! Ada!” Dobera jolts, tensing in his saddle. Théoden comes rushing out from the gates, his pointy ears bouncing wildly. “Théoden!” Dobera calls, befuddled. The little blood elf giggles, skidding to a stop next to his leg.

“Ada! I missed you!” Dobera leans over, collecting his son from the ground. His cheeks were rosy and his ears looked cold. “You shouldn’t be out here little one, don’t you remember what I told you?” Théoden pouts, but recites the rule “it’s dangerous passed the wall... I’m sorry ada.” Dobera smiles softly, nuzzling his lush blond hair.

“You’re safe with me. What’s brought you out here?” Théoden laughs, as if it was a silly question. “You ada! Mama knew you’d be home today!” Dobera looks over his head, just where was his wife?

“And where is your mother?” Théoden looks sheepish, “inside the chapel...” Dobera frowns, cocking a brow. Wait...

“Your mother doesn’t know you came out here does she?” Théoden is quiet. “Théoden.” The little elf crumbles, “no, I’m sorry ada!” That explains why she wasn’t with him.

Dobera sighs before tugging the reins of his charger, “she must be worried sick. Let us go fix that.”

Elowinn was pacing at the foot of the steps when Dobera turned the corner. “Nana!” Théoden calls, Dobera watches relief, anger and happiness cross onto her face. “There you are! Thank goodness your father found you! I’ve been worried sick!” Dobera lets him go, watching as Théoden rushes to her, hugging her legs tightly.

All around them was Christmas decorations, lights hanging off the walls and garland thrown about the banisters. Even the pews were decorated with strings of paper snowflakes.

“Hello my love,” Dobera says, kissing her temple as she sighs hopelessly. “He’s okay, yes?” She asks, Dobera chuckles. “Yes he’s alright, a little cold but fine.” Elowinn seems calmed by that and slumps into Dobera’s welcoming embrace. “Don’t do that again Théoden! You’re going to worry me sick!” Théoden smiles carelessly up at his mother, looking very apologetic.

Most of his afternoon Dobera spent his time lounging about with Elowinn and Théoden. Some others came by with small bits of paperwork he had to sign, but other than that it was a simple day.


Théoden opened all of his presents and loved all the gifts he was given. Dobera have him a wooden sword and shield toy set, while Elowinn gave him lovingly crafted clothes. Théoden hugged his parents, thanking them for the gifts.

“Thank you Dobera,” Elowinn whispers, curling in the sofa, into her husbands skin. “Oh? You’re welcome- what have I done?” His wife laughs, music too his ears. “For this- for Théoden. Seeing him so happy- having him. We’re a family.” Dobera leaves over, kissing her forehead, “I love you Elowinn.”


“I love you too Dobera, Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas.”

Notes:

EDITED APRIL 20, 2018

Chapter 78: Garrosh dabbles 10

Summary:

Garrosh Hellscream/original female character.

 

Through popular demand another Garrosh dabble! :D

Chapter Text

Asch howled as she arced her sword through the air, burying it in the face of a Fel-guard. Ashbringer flared to life with golden fire and warmed her skin as she yanked it out of the demons skull.


Garrosh’s laugher could be heard from the hills. Asch frowns as he throws Gorehowl into the meat of his shoulder. “You’ll sharter the blade blue skin.” Asch whips the air with it, launching the blood from its surface. “Then I will break it in the biggest one I find!” Garrosh cocks a massive brow, a smile smirk forming around his thick, sharp tusks.

“Best do it soon. You’ll be too big in a few months.” Asch was pregnant with their first baby and to say she wasn’t taking it well was an understatement. Garrosh wouldn’t dream of leaving her to rot in their apartments while he fought his way through the legion. She was a Warchief, his woman. Orcs do not leave their women behind.
Even if she was throwing up every twenty minutes.


She looked beautiful, an ornate plate shoulder shined bright with light magic and her breastplate was golden and curled around her puffed chest. Her leg plates curved around her legs like paint. The tabard of his clan hung loosely tied around her waist, hiding her bump and hard belly, while her horns were slathered in bone paste, a chieftain’s honor.

 

Asch snarls, lip curling. Garrosh snorts, rolling his eyes. Asch has been like this for a while, moods changing on a whim. First she was crying uncontrollably, now she was getting aggressive and short tempered.

Garrosh could do nothing for her, so he allowed the spells to run their course. The crying phase made most of her clansmen confused and uncomfortable, while her anger and snarling made morale. She would scream at the top of her lungs and orcs would bellow, thrust their weapons and howl behind her.


“Come here blue skin,” He beckons, Asch squints him, glaring at him with her sharp steely eyes. Asch goes, hailing Ashbringer over her shoulder onto her back with direct percision. Garrosh drops Gorehowl, letting the blade slice into the stand next to his massive leg.

With one meat finger he lifts her chin, making her look up at him while he bends down, smirking around his teeth he pecks her lips. With his other hand he pads her hip lightly, “don’t lose your head, Highlord.” A challenging smirk. Asch licks her plump lips, smiling with devilish teeth.


Garrosh let her spend another hour fighting off the steady flow of demons before he made her come back with him.


Dalaran was a neutral city thanks to Khadgar’s sudden promotion. It wasn’t really, the Horde was heavily unwelcome by most the Alliance, which dominated the city. Garrosh was thankful he has no part in the faction war boiling under the surface of tense smile and tolerance.

For fairness neither he or Asch were allowed in the respective areas. Asch has renounced herself from the Alliance, of course she still had many friends. Anduin, who has forgiven her and Garrosh. A very small part of him thought that was too soft for a king, but he took it for face value. The boy wasn’t as foolish as he remembered and the death of Varian made Garrosh respect him more than he has before.


Her father, Velen was supportive of her decision. Since the banishment Asch decided becoming a neutral party was better in the long run, she couldn’t be Warchief of awarding if she would come to the call of the Alliance.

Garrosh too had dropped his ties, Warsong was his people now and that would stay.

Along the Alliance Asch also gained some Horde supporters as well. Lor’themar and had voiced how he respected his mate, called her brave and pleasant company. When the two had met Garrosh didn’t know, Baine called her brilliant and kind and Asch spoke fondly of Vol’jin.


Asch was at odds with Tyrande, for the obvious reasons, but it hardly mattered. The Nightelf wasn’t ever fond of her to begin with.


They say in a booth behind the entrance, earring bread while they waited for their soups and sandwiches. Neither of them noticed how gloomy the cafe became until an object slapped into their table. Garrosh hisses, glaring at the offender.


Asch flinches in shock, eyes widening as she stares at the black arrow and the black boney fingers clutching it. The dead face and rotting flesh disturb Asch, but Garrosh is hardly shaken.

“I will pick my teeth with your bones, corpse.” It was no secret Garrosh hated the forsaken, Asch wouldn’t say she hated them, but hardly found them good company.

She sneers, or what Asch believes is a sneer.

“You’ve been summoned, by the dark lady.” Garrosh snorts, lips curling into his tusks, “I take no commands from your banshee whore.” The living bones lurches, dead and black eyes glaring. Asch grabs the arrow, eyes pressed flat against her skull, “we will hear what she has to say!” Garrosh frowns, rather unamused by this but says nothing.


The forsaken nods once, leaving.

 

 

Chapter 79: Dova dabbles 2

Summary:

Original human character/ original blood elf character

 

This is so old... I’m kinda just dumping into the Wild lol

Chapter Text

Dova stares at the man he once knew only as Lo'Gosh. The king of Stormwind. "Free." Lo'Gosh- no. Varian says. "Slaves no longer, my friend." His breath was taken away. Freedom. Varian was a warrior, much like Dova was. Dova held the two flaming broadswords. The sister blades of Mahihkan.


"Papa!" Dova flinches, stepping back. His grip tightens. "Anduin!" A boy came running, Varian embraces the child. "Dova, this is my son- Anduin." The boy was young, maybe only ten years old. The boy reguards him, clutching his fathers cloak. "You look like papa." Varian flicks his hair, Dova peers up at his own pony tail. "Hmm, yes he does. Anduin this is Dova." Dova carefully placed his swords on his back. Trying and failing to smile at the boy. Varian senses the awkward tension, chuckling despite himself. "You've any family to go too?" Dova hesitates, then shrugs. Varian eyes him smugly. "You do, I can see it in your face. Do you need a ship? A Gryphon? I'm king you know." Varian laughs at himself.

"I... do? Or- she's just a girl I met when my company was bought from the bloodelves." Dova chose his words carefully, Anduin was too young to hear the reality of it. Varian knew of the visit however and frowns. Dova shrugs, shaking himself. "She's no one, thank you though- my friend." That wasn't good enough for Varian. "Some no one if you remember her." He teases, knowingly. Dova opens his mouth, head lightly shaking. Trying to find the right words so it was appropriate was hard. "I only met her... a few times?" It was about eight times, seven in front of people and completely naked. Varian knew what he meant.


"Still, brother. I'll try and find her for you. I promise." Dova swallows hard at his conviction. "But she's... a... bloodelf." Saying slave in front of the prince felt wrong. But all the unspoken words were shared between the two. "Mhm, one little bloodelf in my city won't cause any harm. I'll find her." Dova felt something tug his heart. "Thank you. Brother."


The days that followed were stressful. Dova was given a place at Varian's table, as his second in command. Dova isn't sure Varian was allowed to do it, but no one questioned him thus far. Varian had deployed his spies a day ago, last they had heard the few in charge of finding Asch were already in the plague lands. Dova allowed himself to feel hope. "How do you purpose buying a bloodelven slave will look to your court?" They were alone in Varian's solar. Varian swigs on a bottle of rum, shugging as he passes the uncapped bottle over.

"Oh I think they'll overlook it- after all. You are Dova the dragon slayer!" Varian snorts, clearly drunk. "You say it like you weren't there also." Dova points out, gulping from the bottle. "Ah. Well. Kings and dragons. It's just like the stories. Least her head is rotting on my gate." Dova chuckles, chest shaking with his loud laugher. "Really though brother. What will we say? She's Horde..." Varian thinks, eyes glassy. "Stranger things have happened. The question is- what made her so special?" Varian asks, swaying drunkly in his chair.

"Ah... she was timid- but she wasn't scared?" Dova frowns at his words. "And?" Varian eggs on, looking interested. "She was... nice. She smelt nice- gah! Listen to me I sound like a woman." He bites his tongue, angry with himself. Varian laughs at him, shaking head. "You sound in love. The only thing we warriors aren't immune too. Break our bodies and whip us bloody. But our spirit will never dull." Dova crosses his arm over his chest, banging his fist into his breast. Varian does the same, slightly slower and heavier.

"She pretty?" Varian asks, swiping the bottle. Dova can just barely remember her face, the blush of her cheeks. "Yeah." He responds, looking off into the open window. "Pretty like the sun." Varian snorts around the bottle. "Now you sound like a woman."

Dova doesn't remember falling asleep, but waking up he finds Varian on the floor, snoring loudly. Dova kicks him. Varian jolts awake, glaring at him while getting his barrings. "I'm your king. You fuck." There was no malious behind him. Dova even dares to laugh at him. Varian picks himself up, mushing his face. His hair was in piles, half atop his head and half a rats nest around his shoulders. "My king!" A heavy knock shakes Dova's brain, makes Varian groan.

"Yes? Enter." He croaks, rubbing his temples. The messenger squeezes through the door, barely acknowledging their disheveled appearances. "The SI:7 sir, they have found the item you wanted. They paid for it and are now traveling back." Dova schools his excitement, only visiually widening his eyes. Varian addresses him, "thank you. You may go." A few silent moments as the door is clipped shut. Varian shoves his shoulder, "it's your fault if rumours spread." Dova grunts, eyeballing the back of Varian's head. "Rumours? Why- what kind?" Dova teases, picking at his tangled hair. Varian swats at him.

"You talked me into drinking. We look like hell." Dova hums, tightening his top knot as Varian fixes his own. "Ha! Don't worry I'll say you were on top and a gentle lover-" Varian shoves him, Dova howls, laughing at him. "Alright alright, you shit." They brush off, returning to righting their clothes. "We found your woman. Happy?" Dova lets a slow smile spread across his face. "I am. Thank you brother... nice touch by the way. 'Item'." Varian's face goes slack, then his eyes roll. "Mhm. Well. Sounds better then 'the person you bought' doesn't it?" He mocks the massagers voice poorly, but it still makes Dova grin.

Varian punches him, walking off. "Now quit fucking saying thank you, c'mon. We've got shit to do."

It turns out the 'shit' was boring paper work. It seemed most of their time was spent reading reports and sending replies rather then fighting. But as Varian said before, "better boring than battle." Dova was thankful, so thankful for not having to be a slave anymore. Thankful to Varian for helping him free and giving him a home. Even his woman that was pretty and blonde, and smiled at him. Boring could be good. Dova could love boring.


There was a gap of burry days where Dova lost himself in the work Varian and he were forced into doing. The nights were dull and lonely.


Then the agents came back. Flying in with her.

Asch was on the back of a gryphon, utterly terrified. Her skin was sickly and her eyes were hallow. Varian stood looking dark and tall, Dova was told to stay until he was called.

Dova could see her beyond the piller, she looked just like he remembered.


"Hello," Varian said kindly "you know who I am?" Asch nodded, "you speak common?"

"Yes."

"Good, I'm glad. You don't know why you're here? I'm going to tell you." Asch curled a little, Varian noticed. "No one will hurt you, we brought you here because a good friend of mine wanted too see you safe-" Dova leapt forward, trying to keep himself centered. "Hi... Asch," he ruffled his hair, sheepishly smiling as Varian stepped aside.


Asch gaped, green eyes widening. Varian made the guards leave, he along with them. "I... got free. I wanted too see you free as well..." Dova wasn't very good at speaking, but he tried. "I was hoping you... thought of me- I thought of you err..." Dova felt awkward, too sappy. "I thought of you too... everyday." Asch was shaking, her eyes blurrying. It has been a long time since she saw him. "So does that mean you'll stay? If you don't want too it's okay," Dova hates sounding so weak. It bothered him very much.

Asch hesitated before moving to him. Dova readily opened his arms, hugging her tightly too him. "Yes I want to stay."

Chapter 80: Dova dabbles 3

Summary:

Original human character/original female blood elf

This is a total dump and it’s like my dirty laundry lol

Way to be my 80th chapter

Chapter Text

Dova was out in the same room, among almost all the same people and naked. The woman were cooing at his figure, excited by his endowment.

He stood tall, nose pointed to the ceiling. Even as the same girl, Asch. She was pushed inside, naked and stumbling at Dova's feet. The warrior resisted the urge to help her and watches with a passive stare.

"Hmm..." says the elven master, as if unsure of what to make of Dova. "I can't decide... Elia what do you suggest?" The woman to his right begins to ponder. She has a fowl looking, tight face. One that didn't look at all pretty. Her eyes were squinting at him under a black fringe, styled and shaved. Dova squirmed under her gaze.

"He likes this one doesn't he?" She waves her claws at Asch, who politely stands at attention like a dog. "Human do you like this one?" Her accent is croaking, like she never spoke common before. Dova glances toward Asch and answers honestly. "I do." The lady looks amused by him, "why?" His Dova wasn't prepared to answer. Although he should have figured. Bloodelves never just ask one question. Asch's eyes were glued to her as he answered.

"She is pretty," Dova wasn't so good with words. "She's soft and little..." Dova liked that about elves. They were all very thin and shapely. Asch had a thin waist, but wide hips and curvy legs. She wasn't fatty or stocky like human woman. Elia is delighted by his words, clapping her hands in a genuine show of excitement. "Well, I think that settles it then. Slave girl- go sit in his lap facing us!" Dova watches, confusion heavy in his brow. Asch strips out of her silk gown and hurries toward him.

Dova tires to do something, moving his hands up her body, trying to understand what she was doing. Ultimately he fails, her little hands grab into his thick fingers and she twists, back facing him. Slowly, she eases into her knees, sitting in his lap.

"Spread your legs," Elia commands. Asch sits on his thighs, adjusting her knees. Dova's hands stay plants on her hips, a little sweaty now. Asch's hands coil around his fingers, tightly gripping them for support. Dova gave her reassuring squeezes. "Good- now. Beastman," his attentions were brought up, Elia smiles wickedly. "Finger fuck her." Dova gulps, looking at how Asch's shoulders tremble.

"Guard-" Elia snaps her bony fingers, "oil is hands." One of the far guards pick up a vial, bigger than Dova's closed fist and tall. He uncorks it and wretches one of Dova's hands away from Asch's. The guard coats his whole hand is the slick oil, completely covering the surface of his palm, uncaring about the mess dripping into the bed. "Go on!" Elia prods, leaning forward.

Dova nods curtly. Despite being told to hurry, Dova tries to be sweet, gentle. His mother when she was alive told him to treat girls nicely, never hurt them. Asch kneads his forearm and he smears some of the oil on the bare flat skin of her groin. Her other hands still holds his fingers, the pressure increases as his fingers slide over her lips.

Asch gasps, jolting her hips into his hand. Dova tried to ignore the sounds of interest beyond the bed. Dova rubs between the folds lovingly, trying to be passionate. The night he licked her clean kept running through his mind and he imagined just what it could be like if they were alone. Dova could do as he liked, not be told anything or rushed.

This was still awkward and tense, even though he was trying to pretend they were the only ones in the room. Asch hisses through her teeth, head falling back in his shoulder. Dova takes the opportunity to suck at her throat, marking it up nicely with a bruise. Dova grinds his clothed cock in the cleft of her ass, nipping at her long ear and listening to her moans. His fingers invade her insides, stroking the walls with maddingly slow percision.


Asch wiggles against him, her thighs flex around his hips. Dova delights quietly at her soft moaning and shaky breathes. His fingers dive deep, pressing harshly against her walls. Asch shrieked as his thumb joined his efforts, strocking the swollen pink bed between her legs. "Marvellous!" Elia says, enthralled. "Look how her cunt pulls his fingers in!" Devous snickers, watching as well.

"How do to like it girl?" Dova blinks up, the trance is cracked as the woman snarls her question. Asch is shocked, looking up quickly. "I... I like it," she says bashfully, gulping lightly. The cords in her throat shake, begging to be bitten. "No no, idiot." Dova glares, watching her hatefully. "How do you like it? Tell us how you like being fucked." Asch sinks a little into Dova, slumping.

"I... I liked what he- he... did to me yesterday," she sputters, gripping his hand for support. Dova rumbles quietly, pushing against her back. "I... I like being bent over-" Elia cackles, clapping loudly. "Good, good! Go on gladiator. Bend her over!" The elves around them agree, egging him on with commands. Dova glares with thin lips, but does as told.

Dova removes his fingers, helping her off his lap. "Make her clean your fingers," Elia snaps, laughing. Asch opens her mouth obediently, Dova slowly slides them in her mouth, letting her lick off the wetness. Asch pulls him over her, sucking his fingers clean. Dova removes his cock from its confines, using his hand. Asch moans around his fingers as he hot wet heat consumes him.


Dova doesn't like being ordered around. As a gladiator he got away with being defiant because his keepers thought it was funny and endearing. Dova enjoyed sex. In fact he liked Asch very much, she was pretty and spoke nice. Dova didn't like this sex very much. Dova didn't like anything that wasn't private.


Asch's gorgeous ass pressed into his pelvis, her legs spreading as she sucked the skin practically off his knuckles. Her ears bent back like a submissive dog, a bitch in heat, Dova growls quietly, distracted by her presenting enough that he could ignore the watchers.


Dova leaned over far enough to bite at her lobe, exciting a pleased mumbled around his fingers. Asch purposely squeezed his cock inside her, wiggling herself into him. As if that wasn't encouraging him to move she bowed deeper, a perfect arch shape. Asch was completely at his mercy.

"Go on," the putrid woman purrs, "give her what she wants..." Dova removed his fingers, pressing his hand flat next to her head before ramming his cock. Asch yowled without abandon, eyes rolling back as he treated her roughly. Asch claws at the silk, making noises that Dova was adoring. He was ruthless, shoving his cock in and out, her body shook with each one of his thrusts, her body forced forward, only to be pulled back by his hand. Asch was like putty in his hands, Dova had to keep her body from drooping as she fell into a haze of loud pleasure.

"She's gushing!" Elia gasps, hands in her dark red cheeks. It was true, Asch had made a dark stain on the silk red under them and Dova's thighs were shiny and slick.

Chapter 81: Edan dabbles 7

Summary:

Edan Stormrage/original female nightelf

Happy new year everyone! Thanks for reading over 80 chapters and providing this dabble with all the love in the world!

We continue into the new with dirty sex. Woohoo!

Chapter Text

Edan sighs pitifully, his father had cut the day of training short and now there was nothing to keep his mind from wondering back to Jarod.

It was for the best, they had decided that ending it was healthier than truing too keep a dying romance work. Even if it hadn’t started at all.

Anther notices his sorrow and saunters over, “darling don’t look so sad,” mother matron touches him, sitting down in front of him.

“It’s that boy again isn’t it?” Whether or not Edan wanted the hunters too know, they did. When it concerned Illidan it wasn’t private.

She coos, stroking his cheek with one of her many hands “darling you’re too good to be so sad over such a man.” She pulls his face too look at her. “Mother will find you something knew, something pretty. Do you only like boys? What about girls?” She perks, smiling lovingly, “what about a pretty girl?”


Edan doesn’t know what he likes honestly, so he shrugs unable too do anything else.

“I don’t just want anyone mother matron...” he was worried she was going to find him someone who was only interested in a few nights, what Edan wanted was what his parents already had for centuries. That was increasingly hard to find- especially for someone like him.

Every hunter looked unique in their own ways, some had red scales or no claws. Huge horns or none at all. Edan looked like a looming shadow and frankly terrifying, even too some hunters.

“I know you don’t sweetheart- I’ll tell you what. I’ll find you someone perfect! Just you wait.” Mother matron was everyone’s favourite. She was genuine in her care and loved each demon hunter for vastly different reasons.

She said she loved Illidan because he was becoming such a soft hearted man.

And she loved Edan because he inspired too be just like his father.


So Edan waited and it only took a few days for the mother matron to find a someone she thought he would like too meet.

Among many demon hunters, one was a usual elf. Her hair long and grey. She had pure unruined eyes and looked a little lost.

“Edan! Over here darling!” Edan carefully approached, wondering just how she got this poor girl to step into the hornets nest.

“Um- hello mother matron...?” She liked very proud of herself.


Four hands rested atop the girls shoulders. “Edan, this is Atam Darkweaver- Atam this is Edan Stormrage.” Edan gulps, she looked nothing like her father. Her hair was long and tied at the end, her skin was a milky pink and the markings on her face were a nice white.


“H-hello...” she mutters in a nervous voice. “Hey... I- I know your father. He’s a good man.” Edan scratches his hair, “I didn’t know he had a daughter.” Atam brushes hair behind her long ear, a faint blush dusting her cheeks. “Well ada doesn’t like bring me here- He says he doesn’t want to distract me from my studies.” Mother matron had slowly slunk off the side smiling to herself.

“Studies? What studies?” Edan likes the way she plays with her hair nervously. “I’m learning how to be a hunter!” Edan has never met a hunter- well. Not a hunter hunter.

“Like a survival hunter?” She giggles, drawing him in. “No a beast master- I love animals!”

Edan laughs, rubbing the back of his neck, “did you want to sit down?” Atam beams, “I’d love too!”


Edan sits across from her, enthralled by her stories of animals. “-and I shod my dad... right in the shoulder!” Edan snorts, imagining the great Jace Darkweaver with an arrow imbedded in his shoulder. “So what’s your mother like?” Pain crosses her face, “Ah she passed away a long time ago.” Edan cringes, “Ah I’m sorry-“ she shakes her head, smiling softly. “You have siblings and your mother! Tell me about them!”

Edan perks up, “well you’d like my sister Kair. She’s decided to become a priest and Tadeas is still really young. But really sweet.” Atam smiles fondly, “okay so- I have to ask... you did all this,” She gestures to him, “how did you do this?” Edan looks at himself, then tells the story of what he did.


By the end she’s amazed and even laughing, “I bet you aren’t allowed back there again.” Edan finds himself laughing too, uncle Malfurion didn’t say he was or wasn’t- but Edan thinks it’s implied he isn’t allowed back.

“You aren’t afraid, are you?” He had to ask, Atam regard him with a look he can’t discern. “You look awfully different,” her fingers are playing with the wisps of shadowy smoke that permeates off Edan permanently. “It’s not very frightening, not like you think Edan.” He melts a little inside when she says his name.

“I think it’s kind of handsome.” Edan colours, “really?” She nods, “I like your wings- is it scary, you know too fly?” Edan cringes “I haven’t learnt how to fly yet...”

Atam giggles at him, “that’s okay, you will.”


“Edan!” Calls a voice his knows very well.

Atam stands, looking over to the side of Illidan stromrage, “Ada!”

Edan gets up, careful of his wings. “Starlight what are you doing here?” Jace asks, bewildered but happy too see his daughter. “Mother matron brought me! I was talking to Edan!” Illidan quirks a brow, settling as the other hunter left with his daughter.

“Ah, So that’s what the matron was busy with.” Illidan smirks, “She told me the mission had to wait because true love had won out.” Edan cringes again, embarrassed all over.

“So tell me- did it?”


Edan gulps, watching after Jace and Atam, wondering the same thing. “hope so ada...” Illidan laughs, clapping his sons shoulder.
“You’re a Stormrage- women love Stromrage men.” Edan thinks his father is being dramatic.

“Come, You’ll have plently if time for her later. You have training.” His father singers away, leaving him in the middle of the ring, “try to impress her, little one.”


Edan hopes he can...

Chapter 82: Illidan dabbles 14

Summary:

Illidan Stormrage/Asch Stormrage

It’s short but it’s very sweet

Chapter Text

There was something prideful about watching your progeny grow.


Illidan purrs softly as Asch coos over their littlest baby, Tadeas. Illidan decides on a whim to join them on the floor. Sliding off the comfy sofa. Asch smiles at him. Illidan drags Tadeas into his lap, cooing at his wife with devilish intent. “I want you too give me another one of these,” Illidan nuzzles his whole face into his baby, inticing sweet giggles from him. Asch laughs, but her cheeks grow pink at his words.

“Oh?” She still stares coolly, crawling toward him. “Do you?” Her teasing only eggs him on, “if I could keep you pregnant I would.” Asch slowly climbs into his lap. Eyeing Illidan as he tilts his head to whisper, “you look delicious with my seed spilling out of you.” Asch squeaks, but Illidan silences it with a firm kiss.

Tadeas coos between them, growing drowsy. Hardly paying attention to his parents ramblings.

Asch is inches from his lips, looking right into his eyes, “do you really want another baby Illidan?” The demon hunter licks his lips, claws curling into her lush hip, “more than anything darling.” Asch sighs lovingly, collapsing in his embrace while kissing him fiercely. Asch threads her arms around his neck, sighing once more before hugging him tightly.

Illidan nuzzles her under his chin, content. “I love you so much Illidan.” His heart hammers in his chest, even after all these years. “I love you Asch, more than anything.”

“Awh... ada!” From the side Kairos gushes, surprising her mother but not her father. “Hello little star,” he says, rolling his head to look at his daughter. Over the years Kair has come to look more like her mother, but started with black hair and violet skin. As he matured everything became lighter, her hair and skin and markings.

The only demonic part was the fel green and glowing leaf pattern upon her face, which only made her more beautiful if anything.

“Hello ada -give Tadeas here!” Kair loves her brothers, loves Tadeas so much she demanded sharing a room on Azeroth with him. If Asch wasn’t looking after the littlest Stormrage it was Kair.

Illidan gingerly passing his dozing baby, smiling as Kair leans over and kisses his cheek, “love you!” She whispers over her shoulder sauntering away. “Love you,” her parents say in union.

Illidan sighs heavily, a full feeling in his chest arises, “I want another girl.” Kair was a little princess when she was growing up, attached to her father and completely in love with her mother. Before Tadeas was born Edan and Kair were joined at the hip- they still were of course, but it wasn’t as bad as it was when they were young. “I want another little boy-one that looks just like his father.” Asch coos, happily wiggling into his groin.

Illidan grunts, smirking “even the scales?” Asch hums, petting the harden skin around his elbow, “especially my love.”

Chapter 83: Garrosh dabbles 11

Summary:

Garrosh/ original female Draenei

So this is a shit short chapter.
Why? My dog passed away- it was peaceful and she wasn’t in pain- and I couldn’t bring myself to write anything more, I will eventually- but right now I’m having a hard time with this.

:) I’m okay though! Or I will be soon...

Chapter Text

Asch would not take any portals anymore. She outright refused the forsaken mage who tried.

Garrosh didn’t like them either if he was honest, walking through them hurt his eyes and made him dizzy. Asch didn’t because she would throw up on the other side.

It might happen anyway.

Instead, the would travel on wolf back too Indercity, a journey that should only take a day was going to last the better part of this week, again because Asch wasn’t going too be rushed into anything. Garrosh didn’t want to even go, so he was fine with setting up camp every night.

“You will hate Undercity. It smells like corpses and poison.” He bites, “why did you accept this invitation?” Garrosh never understood the witch Sylvanas when he knew her. What she wanted now was a complete mystery.

Is it had anything too do with his mate he was going to kill her.

Ash sighs, rubbing her temples “because you called her a whore- did you want war?” Garrosh stood by that comment.

“Blue skin you’re getting tired. Come.” Whether she liked it or not, the wolf she sat upon listened too his whistle and hugged his mount as Garrosh lead them off the dirt road.

Usually they would have brought guards, but Asch did not ask any of her elite members along. Garrosh didn’t question his warchief, but was a little concerned for his mate.

Garrosh helped her off the beast, watching her colour a mellow green. It didn’t take long for her to be bending over and expelling her breakfast. Garrosh runs her back, holding her hair away form her face.

“Mhm,” he grunts, noticing something. “You’re hair is long.” Asch wipes her mouth, “you said you liked it long.” That he did. Garrosh purrs, struck with affection. “Come sit blue skin, relax.” Garrosh set her betwen their wolves, making sure she wouldn’t move too try and help before starting their tent.

The next few hours Garrosh was reminded of their time spent on Pandaria, he went and caught a stalking panther and cooked the meat outside the tent while Asch tried too calm her nausea.

Failing mostly.

By the end of this last bout of throwing up she let out a half wail and crawled defeated into his folded legs. Garrosh nuzzles her hair “tired,” she mumbles, slumping into his skin. Garrosh pets her back, cooing. “We’ll eat and sleep soon, Asch.” She hums tiredly, it seems she was already drifting.

Garrosh would make her eat the meat, it would be one of the last few fresh kills he could make. The closer they got too Undercity the less living things would roam freely. Putrid undeath clotted those places and Garrosh hated it.

When the food was finished he gave Asch only what she thought her stomach could handle, Thrall had told him the closer Asch was too the second stage of pregnancy the more sensitive her stomach would be. It was almost impossible to find anything she could hold down.

Thrall said it was normal, that his mate was the same. That was something they shared in common at least, neither of their mates were orcs. This might have been easier if they had been, orc women were hardly unconvinced by pregnancy. Draenei and elves were ruined by it. Still, Garrosh could endure a couple months of moodiness and throwing up if it meant he’d be a father.


Asch swallower her bits of meat with water he carried for the trip and promptly went back to dozing off. Garrosh snorted and let her lay against him. It wasn’t much longer after that he finished. “Up,” He says, lifting her with him. Asch paws at his shoulders for support, which wasn’t doing anything too help him in the slightest, as if he needed it.

Garrosh’s wolf stays pressed into the mouth of the tent, eyes glowing agasint the setting sun while Asch’s beast saunters in behind, plopping down by his feet. The tent was long and tall enough for three orcs so he hardly minded the wolf.


Asch melts into his chest once Garrosh finally settles down. It wasn’t too noticeable yet, but he could just feel the hardness of her belly poking into his stomach. “Good night blue skin,” he whispers to her.

“Night,” Asch musters, “love you.”

“Love you too.” His heart was warm.

The next morning was dewy and Asch didn’t throw up, Garrosh was glad for it.

Chapter 84: Kayn Sunfury dabbles 1

Summary:

Kayn Sunfury/original bloodelf female character

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Kayn rolls to his side, eying the delicate lump beside him, idly wondering if Illidan would disapprove. Illidan himself holds love, great love for his wife, but she does not inhabit the Fel Hammer. She does not come here often, not because she doesn’t want too or dislikes them, but mostly because usual Nightelves are not welcome here by them. Kayn has the nicest room, gifted by his lord because he lead them while he has been absent.

There had only been a few times someone who held no purpose here came. Khadgar, to assist in a few minor things and the young high king, to proclaim his appreciation for them and wishes to help where he could.

Whether or not that was a ploy to get the Bloodelven hunters on his side was neither here nor there. Kayn was loyal to Illidan, no faction. But others craved a home, and some of his elves went willing and pledged their service to him, if only to have a purpose after the legion was finally dealt with.


Kayn has a purpose, she was sleeping beside him. Long soft ears poked from her head, glittering with more earrings then he remembered. The pitch white hair always smelt so sweet and was soft too the touch. His wife, his anchor to purpose and meaning.

Asch.

It was almost laughable how easy it was to find her after all these years. Kayn was forceful about her separating from him all those years ago, but she denied him that, gave him love instead. Love he carried to his imprisonment, that kept him warm all those years. Asch occupied his parents' home, them having been long dead. Kayn couldn’t give her a home, a noble life full of gifts and leisure. Kayn had spent a day and a half getting back home to find her happily fixing something that was a man's duty too fix.

Asch had been shocked at first, scared when he finally spoke up. She didn’t know it was him, but only moments had passed before she was jumping off the ladder and kissing him for all he was worth.

Now she was here, through all sort of trouble. The hunters had made a fuss, annoyed a normal Bloodelf was among them. Kayn ultimately won when Allari took his side, barking at them like a banshee. Asch caused no trouble like they all assumed she would.

She made no fuss about food or smells, didn’t even bite back when one of them insulted her. Kayn did, snarling like a rabid dog. Asch would calm him every time. In another life she would have made a subservient lady. Taught and bred well by her parents.

They must be very disappointed she married a landless demon hunter.

Disowned her, too Kayn’s dismay. Which is what lead her to having no home to go to when he was imprisoned and her life here now. If she still had loving parents she would be there right now and Kayn would visit rather than have her here. But alas, she was outcast.

Kayn didn’t mind this. It was better than sleeping alone, worrying about her and missing her. Asch was safe here, surrounded by hunters that would protect her if the need would arise. They had already done so once when a demon came loose and attacked, knowing to go straight for her. It was Jace who swooped in and saved her, letting his body take the blow that meant to slice his wife in half. It gave Jace a little scar and Kayn an aneurysm.

Still, when it was over, Asch went to his nursing bed. She had thanked him with a kiss, and Kayn still remembers the flushed expression on his companion's face.


After that it was a unspoken rule to watch over her, if not to be nice but too keep Kayn sane. His attachment was seen as weak, but no one could say since Illidan married a nightelven Druid.

Kayn traces the dip of her spine, petting the soft silk of her skin. Knuckles press into the middle of her back, allowing him to feel the steady rise and fall as she breathes. Asch adjusts, moving in her sleep and sighing peacefully. These moments were precious to Kayn. Few times he could truly relax, even fewer to take time to appreciate his wife. A shiver rolls down her spine as the freezing gold ring on his finger touches a bare part of her back. Kayn smiles, leaning to kiss her hair before leaching onto her form.

Asch was always so oddly warm, even his chilled skin was no match for her. Kayn couldn’t remember a time his body wasn’t cold, maybe it didn’t exist. Neither of them minded. When Asch got too hot she would curl around him and cool off, another one of his favorite times. The night was still young, Asch went to bed earlier then most. Kayn started following her and the hunters called him whipped. But then, he woke up early and saw those same hunters still awake and laughed quietly to himself.


Asch moans lightly, drawing Kayn from his peace. Asch fidgets, rustling the blankets before turning in his loose hold. Kayn watches with nothing short of amusement as she rolls them over, covering Kayn with her petite body. Her face presses into his chest while her arms dangle at his sides. Kayn snorts lightly, rubbing his hands up her back before settling into the pillows. Kayn almost drifts off, would have if not for the knock at his door.


Kayn didn’t bother to move as he called for them to enter. Jace peers open, blinking owlishly as he takes in the scene. “I didn’t know you had retired, my apologies...” Asch had shifted, but didn’t wake up. Kayn shrugs softly, carding his hand through her hair.

“I haven’t, what is it?” Jace takes one step inside, leaving the door open for his escape.

“There’s... a package- just...” he paused, “I have no idea what it is but it’s for Asch.” Kayn tilts his head, then looks at his wife.

“Mhm.” He grunts, “can it wait?” Jace bites his lip before responding.

“It’s... taking up the entrance.” Kayn sighs, nodding.

“Alright.”

Jace waits outside while Kayn pets his wife’s back, humming softly.

“My love,” Asch groans, curling into his body, eyes fluttering.

“Kayn...” she mumbles, “it’s late-“

“I know, something important came up.” She scowls at him, making no effort too move.

He laughs at her, “Come, just a quick look see.”

 

Notes:

EDITED APRIL 20,2018

Chapter 85: Illidan dabbles 15

Summary:

Illidan Stormrage/Asch Stormrage

Another silly Chromie time vision-thing...

Sorry I haven’t updated I’m a turd

Chapter Text


Illidan stares at the vial of golden magic. Chromie had given them some to take with them. What he held in his hand was a little tube, but what he’d taken from was a drum of glass, filled to the top and dangerously close to overflowing.

Chromie said it was no trouble, hardly a challenge for her. Illidan was quietly grateful when she told them if they ran out she could easily produce more.

Visions of the past were addicting, he had given Asch his reassurance, showed that his love was deeply rooted even when he was imprisoned.

Still.

Illidan wondered, wondered what life could have been if he had stayed that night until morning, if he came back from war intact. With the question in mind, Illidan tipped his head back, drinking the golden liquid.


The fog around him was thick, but something was hurting his eyes, the sun! Illidan groans, shielding his face. What met him was shocking. Disregarding his wooziness Illidan shoots up, blinking away the blindness as he stared at his hands.

There were no claws, no jagged scales. His hands were soft and plump, a shade of purple he had all but forgotten.

“Stormrage! Hurry up!” He heard outside the tent, the shadow eagerly approached. A smiling elf poked his head in, ear twitching with excitement.

“C’mon c’mon!” He gripes, “Pack up- you know what day it is!” Illidan frowns, confused. The other scoffs.

“Don’t tell me- Illidan! It’s over, we get to go home!” Illidan’s frown deepens, tossing the thin, scratchy blanket off of him.

“Don’t you miss your wife? I miss mine...” The other says, stumbling back as Illidan paws his way out of his tent. All around elves were cheering, drinking and hastily shoving their bedding in packs.

“My... wife.” Illidan says slowly, the other scoffs at him again. “Yeah. Your wife. That hot little priestess- Asch wasn’t it?” Illidan freezes, no it couldn’t be? Could it?

“Let’s go- it’s only a days' ride back. I’ll help you with your tent.”

The elf, Illidan had learnt, was apparently his greatest friend, Fendal Feathermoon.

“I miss Eyre so much,” he sighs to Illidan, “I hope she hasn’t forgotten about me...” Illidan just snorts.

“Of course not.” His voice sounds entirely like someone else’s, “How could she?” Fendal pulls a face.

“It’s been a while...” Illidan, again, snorts.

“How long?”

“Four years...” A small part of him panics, that was a long time.

“Ah- quit making that face!” Fendal grumbles, “your girl will at least remember you!” Illidan blinks.

“Why’s that?” If Fendal’s wife might not have forgotten him- what made Asch any different?

“Cause its only been a year- don’t you remember? You got into trouble going back there.” Fendal frowns in confusion, “jeez. It wasn’t so bad- I guess humiliating but at least you got laid.” Illidan stares ahead, wondering just what he was talking about.

“What?” He mutters, brows furrowing, Fendal laughs.

“Oh don’t tell you forgot? C’mon! Commander sent out a party to find you. I had to drag you back myself!” Illidan thinks, tries to remember.

“You left your cape and everything.” The glen!

Illidan remembers leaving her before morning, disappearing into the trees and not coming back.

“She sure was pretty though,” Fendal sighs longingly, “looked awful mad at you.” Memories that were clearly not his own began to flood into his head.

Illidan remembers leaving camp, wishing too see her one last time. That had never changed. Illidan sees her, begging him to come back and his response had changed.

“Why?” He remembers snapping.

Instead he hears, “I’ll always come back.”

“You will?” Her eyes look so hopeful, so beautiful.

“Don’t I always?”

This time she is the one who climbs into his lap, the kiss she gave him was slow and wonderful, nothing like what really happened. When they parted he was breathless, “marry me,” He says with a wheeze, Asch kisses him in response.

Illidan watches a stranger of himself be pulled toward the city, watches him pick her up and twirl her as they wait for their turn amoug the other soldiers. Their hands are tied with ribbons and he kisses her like it was the last.


Much the same as he remembers happening, gentler and sweeter but just like when it really happened, Illidan laid his cloak out and took his wife upon it.

The morning was what Fendal had described, laughed about. Fendal and a few others came upon them, told Illidan he had to get back. Asch was embarrassed, red in the face as she tries to wrap her modesty in his white cloak, now stained with blood and fluid.

Men jeer at the sight, but Illidan snaps at them, “that’s my wife you idiot!” He hisses, making Asch smile. Fendal gives them a moment, making the others turn away.

“I’m sorry,” Illidan’s mutters, Asch huffs “come back, Illidan.

“I always do.”

“The city!” Fendal cheers, sitting straight and high in his saber. In the gates were floods of people, many cheering and others already running. Illidan watches with a happy heart as soldiers collapse into the ground, clutching their wives and families.


“Eyre- Eyre!” Ahead, Illidan glances forward, watching Fendal dart ahead of his mount.

“Fendal!” The girl screams, crying.

“I told you!” Illidan shouts, shaking his head as the two ignore him.

Fendal gathers his composure as Illidan lazily approaches on his mount, looking up at the other with watery eyes.

“Where’s Asch?” Illidan glances around, but knew he wouldn’t find her.

“She’s home.” Fendal voices his confusion as Illidan turns around back to the forest, but then he understood.

“Good luck!” He yells. Illidan waves.

Illidan leaves his cat at the edge of the forest, petting it soundly before turning into the brush. The trek was familiar and welcoming. He can see where they’ve made a little path in the grass and follows it diligently, warmth building up inside him.


When the clearing come into view, so does Asch. Illidan pauses at the trees, staring at the back of her. She looked altogether the same, hair a little longer and dressed with lily flowers.

“Lily flowers.” He says aloud, getting her attention.

“Illidan!” She gasps, but her voice is not above a whisper when she speaks. Her upper body twists, just giving a hint of her holding something. Illidan cranes he neck, she smiles.

“Come here” she asks, shuffling around carefully, “and meet your son.” Illidan’s heart burst from his chest at her words.

“S-son?” In her arms was a bundle of fabric. Little pointed ears stick out and from the opening.


Illidan knows this face, knows exactly who the baby is, but as Asch says his name Illidan feels his breath taken away.

“Edan.”


“Edan...” Illidan says in awe, dropping into his knees.

“He has your eyes,” She says, “do you want too hold him?” Illidan nods frantically. Asch moves toward him, carefully placing the baby in his arms, helping his hands find the places to support. Illidan can only marvel at his baby. “It happened that night in the glen,” Asch tells him, softly stroking the light purple cheek.

“My ada wasn’t very happy, but nana was.” Edan yawns, distracting his parents.

“Oh look!” Asch coos, they both watch his eyes ease open. They were as yellow as a fireflies light.

“Hello little one.” Illidan says softly. Edan looks up at him, his little body wiggles and his feet kick the blankets gently before falling asleep again. Illidan chuckles, leaning toward and kissing his head.

 

Illidan groans, his head was pounding as he eased up off the sofa.

“Illidan?” A far away voice calls too him. Illidan rubs his eyes, then blinks away the haze. Asch is at his feet, looking up at him in concern while her fingers knead the back of his hand worriedly.

“Hello darling,” He says weakly, smiling once the concern lifts from her face.

“Did I disturb your nap? I’m sorry.” Illidan hushes her, pulling her up and into his lap. “I have something too tell you,” Asch whispers, Illidan tilts his head.

“I’m pregnant.”

Chapter 86: Lor’themar/Arthas dabbles 4

Summary:

Lor’themar/original female character

 

Bah! I’m not sure what else I can add so I’m just throwing it up! Enjoy!

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Lor’themar heard nothing of Koltira after he was freed by his wife. Of course, he was apart of the Horde, apart of his own people, but it was only right to allow him that after Asch exonerated him.

That had been far too painful for his wife, old wounds that were still healing were ripped open anew, all because Sylvanas wanted vengeance. Once more, their marriage was strained, Asch was shying away, too scared to be intimate again. Except she knew it this time and got upset rather than leave. Nightmares returned but rather than screaming awake it was a silent jolt. Asch always woke him, Lor’themar insisted she do it because it was every bit his burden as it was hers.

It was progress, Rommath told him. It got worse before it got better. Asch was doing her part in healing, allowing Lor’themar inside. Intimacy came harder, while she tried, Asch couldn’t continue after a while. Lor’themar had gotten her half naked once before she panicked and cried. He helped her back into her dress and promised it was okay.
One thing came out if it he was happy for, and that was the habit she picked up of taking the strip of cloth from his favorite cloak and securing it around her thigh. When Lor’themar wasn’t available to hold she undid the tie instead and rubbed it with her fingers.

After a day of meetings, Rommath wished to take his wife to the markets. Unceremoniously, the dark-haired mage had taken her under his wing and taught her potions and herbs, giving her something to focus on besides the state of the region. Asch was enjoying his teachings, Lor’themar was glad for it and encouraged their outings. When his wife was absent, Hal filled the gap with smoking, card games, and idle chatter.

“You absolute shit,” Hal grumbles, dropping his wasted hand while Lor’themar pulled the winning chips to his side. “How do you always beat me?!” It wasn’t always, in fact Hal was a bit better at this game then Lor’themar was, Hal had just gotten unlucky.


“I’ve simply outclassed you, my friend,” Lor’themar chuckles at the scalding look he receives, “We’re having a respite in the upcoming week. Do you believe now is the time to sneak away?” Lor’themar shuffles the deck in thought, the cabin finished long ago. Lor’themar almost snuck her out when the festival was ongoing, but fate decided differently at the time.

“Hm,” He grunts, “Possibly. I had hoped tensions wouldn’t be as high...” Hal cringes lightly, “Still trying?” Lor’themar hadn’t stopped since his wedding night. “It’ll happen- but why you want a baby is beyond me.” Lor’themar rolls his eye.

“Because she’s wanted one since she was set to marry Kael’thas, and the idea has always interested me...” Hal smirks, taking the deck and dolling out their cards.

“Being a father or pregnant sex?” Lor’themar flares at his cards, a bad hand.

“Both,” he divulges, snorting when Hal wiggles his long brows, “It would do the people good to see their leader expecting- it might give incentive.” The festival was a great success, marriages and pregnancies popping up all around the capital. Even still, Lor’themar hoped getting pregnant would further his people in wanting the same.

Before Kael went mad, news spread of golden haired princes and beautiful princesses and caused a great influx of pregnancies. Asch wasn’t even married yet and the people were already excited.

Lor’themar wasn’t living up to his predecessor, but he was trying.


“Well you know Rom and I will cover for you- and who knows maybe she’ll catch when you're out there having at it like rabbits.” Lor’themar laughs, but trails off.

“If she’ll let me touch her...” pain crosses the rangers face and he puts his cards down.

Hal would have won that hand.

“One step at a time. Asch will come back around, just like she did before.” Lor’themar nods, knowing he was right.

“I know she will... I know- I wish I could do more.” Hal pats his hand, getting up and going to the cabinet full of wines.

“You’re doing everything you can. Go to the cabin tonight Lo, stay there for a while. Nature does everyone good.”

Notes:

EDITED ON
February 22, 2019

Chapter 87: Illidan dabbles 16

Summary:

Illidan Stormrage/Asch Stormrage

SUPER OOC because it’s Valentine’s Day and I wanted to write cute shit. Happy Valentine’s Day :D

Chapter Text

 

Illidan did not like it understand the customs brought to them from Stromwind.


Although, he would feel remiss if he didn’t get the mother of his children something for Valentine’s Day.


Tyrande loved the holiday very much, the last he remembered she completely endorsed it, covered Darnassaus in pink and red. Malfurion adored it too. The whole thing was childish.


Illidan knew Asch loved it.


Illidan felt very foolish that he was spending his day, buying silly fluffy and smelly things for his wife and three children. The women, thank the gods did not say anything as he brought a large, pink saber stuffed toy and three little matching ones.


In fact, the only thing she had to say was “would you like flowers as well?”


Magni had laughed at him, snorted loudly the only way dwarfs could. Illidan glares at him, carrying the pink toys into his new home.

Kair caught him in the door, looking confused and then very excited at him. “Ada! Oh my goodness! It’s so cute!” She coos at the sabers. Illidan plucks one from the bag, “happy Valentine’s Day princess.” She bounces with all the excitement on the world. Kair hugs the toy, giggling happily.


“Is the big one for nana?” Illidan nods, letting her caress the fluffed face. “Where is she?” Kair gasps, “she’s with Tadeas, in the garden!” Illidan hums, “and Edan?”

“With the hunters.”


Illidan wasn’t going there.


“Get him.” Kair giggles, “okay ada, I’ll say hi for you!” She went too fast for him to say anything.

Illidan lets it go with a sigh, deciding to ignore whatever would come of that.


Outside in the garden was his wife, happily watching their baby play with flowers. “Ada! Ada!” Tadeas shouts, falling over in front of Asch. “Hello little one, come here.” Asch watches, surprise clear on her face as Tadeas waddles toward his father. “Happy Valentine’s Day, little light.” Tadeas paws at the plush his father gives him, burying his chubby face in its side.

“Th- thank you ada!” Illidan smiles, leaning toward him. Tadeas nuzzles his nose into Illidan’s chin, “come, come.”


Illidan saunters over, letting his baby lead him over to the grass spot Asch was sitting in. “What’s all this?” Illidan peers at his remaining stuff animals and the roses. “This is for you,” rather than give it to her, Illidan places the large mother saber next to her. Asch giggles, petting its baby pink belly “and this.” Roses were at least less embarrassing to give.

Asch clutches them, burying her face in the petals. Illidan smiles softly, watching her ears swivel and twitch. “Illidan you didn’t have to do all this.” Illidan reaches for her, softly rubbing her stomach, slightly bumped. “I did, it’s the least I can do.”

Asch grabs his hand, holding it still “thank you- take us inside?” Illidan chuckles, nodding “of course.”


Illidan easily carried his wife, baby as the ridiculous toys inside. Kair immediately scooped up Tadeas. Illidan frowns, noticing a necklace that he’d never seen before. “Where did that come from?” The blush was was easy to spot on her purple cheeks, “Belath gave it too me...”

That was concerning.


“Ada what’s all this about?” Edan came around, hair pulled away from his face, black smoke swirling as he blinks. “Valentine's little one,” his mother says, gently laying the flowers on the table. “This is for you,” his son looked just as funny and strange holding the pink cat. Edan looks at it, a smirk on his face. “I see. Thank you ada, I was wondering what the hunters were talking about.” Kair escapes before he can snap at her.


“Well. I’ll leave you too it. I have to go see Atam. I promised I’d take her on a... love boat.” Illidan tries not to laugh, but fails. Imagining Edan, wings and claws sitting upon a pink boat was rather amusing.


Edan stowed his toy away before leaving, with Kair gone with Tadeas the nest was vacant and Illidan was pleased.

Asch nuzzles into his side, sighing happily.


“I love you. Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“I love you, Asch. Happy Valentine’s Day.”

 

 

Chapter 88: Rommath dabbles 5

Summary:

Rommath/original female blood elf

 

I’m in a hell pit and I love it

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Rommath held his head high, staff taut in his expert hold. Today he had forgone pulling his hair up, electing to show his face rather than hide it behind a high collar.


Lor’themar eyes him strangely, but hadn’t said anything yet. Hal was toeing about the subjects Rommath almost thought he would ask, but the blonde stayed quiet.


The ship master had begun their meetings for the day, starting to drone on and confirm plans for crate shipments and mobilizing a few of their battleships to clear away the pirates preying upon sea villages.

While Lor’themar scribbled his signature across the mountain of papers the ship master turned to Rommath, smirking lightly. “Word has caught that you’ve stolen the Lightbleeder girl.” Rommath knew it was the only word around. Still he nods, saying nothing.

“A lady of fine breeding. Beautiful if I may be so bold.” Rommath doesn’t hide his irritation, “That is too bold.” The ship master bows his head in apologies, “I wish your union luck. Thank you regent lord.”

One after another the problems and concerns came in, all expressing Rommath’s grand choice of picking his mate and how they heard about it. The grand magister didn’t doubt everyone from the poorest to finest of their city knew he was courting Asch. Almost all commended him, calling her beautiful, proper and many other flattering things.


Rommath has heard enough by the eighth person.

As luck would have it however, the high priest himself came in today. Rommath was never one to noticed him before because his duty only recently was bring funds from the church people had donated into helping rebuild Silvermoon. Thus far they had made enough too see the repairs of four walls and even a small park. People often used the area and were glad too see change.

To his disappointment Asch was not with him, although she never was. Rommath has hoped now she would be just so he could see her. The high priest was scowling, eyes as thin as daggers as he looked at Rommath.


“I hope you fair well High pries-“ Lor’themar tried to speak but the hated tone of the priest cut him off, “My daughter is happy, grand magister.” Lor’themar mouth claps shut and Hal’s eyes bulge. “Happier than I have ever seen. If you do her any harm I will gut you.” Hal behind him chokes and Lor’themar is very quiet.


Rommath was confident however this time and stood grand as he always did “I’ve made my intentions public I only want her happiness too, high priest.” He snorts lowly at this, rolling his eyes. “I suppose we shall see. I hope you have time for her today. She’s made some for you.” With that he walks out, bowing too his regent lord.

Rommath hasn’t seen her since the night of the gala, she was shy by nature so it wasn’t very surprising after what they had done together in her quarters.

It was very enjoyable however.

Rommath couldn’t remember a time he’d done something like that. It was a fresh feeling to go along with the fresh romance, he just hoped it wasn't too forward. Her father said she had something for him, so he supposed that was a good sign. Rommath would stop by her home after all the meetings, her mother was delightful and would be happy too see him.

 

It was another four hours, in which it bled into lunch and ruined his plans, but finally. Rommath was allowed to leave, without delaying he made a portal to the other side of the city, walking the short distance to her house.

Her mother was outside, cutting roses from the bush when he came, drawn to the noise he made opening the gate. The beautiful woman smiles, “Grand magister! Lovely to see you!” As custom, he bows to the noble lady, which she returns with a pretty curtsy, “Hello my lady, you look beautiful today.”


Asch’s mother colours pink, giggling sweetly, “Charming as ever, I’ll let you inside- I know you’re here for Asch.” Rommath smiles kindly, gesturing her to go first, “You know, you two are all anyone seems to talk about today.” She sighs, a slight frown, “it must be a pain for you.” The lady knew him quite well from their previous chats, he was very private and she didn’t press him for details like most did.

“It’s been a pain for her as well,” she lets him inside, throwing her keys on the table close to them, fluffing her hair, “'Will there be a marriage soon?’ ‘Are you excited to have his babies?’ As if a women can’t be concerned about anything besides being pregnant.” She rolls her eyes, Rommath chuckles, adoring her blush as always.

“‘What a grand choice, grand magister.’” He parrots, “‘She is of fine breeding’” her mother groans, laughing lightly “Oh- next time you hear such a thing be smart with a fireball won’t you dear?” Rommath chuckles, nodding along “of course my lady.”

“Nana? Who are you talking too?” Soft hurried steps come noisily down the stairs, Asch pokes out, confused.

“Why, a charming young man of course, yours I believe.” Asch gasps, hair flying as she whips around to see Rommath, “Hello darling.”

Her face brightens, cheeks a glowing pink “Rommath!” Her mother had slunk bsvk outside, cooing at the two as Asch skipped over and jumped in his arms. Rommath squeezes her, before metting her down “ada said you were too busy to see me today!”

“I almost was, thankfully the meetings finished early.” They didn’t, Lor’themar said he could go, knowing full well what was waiting for him. Rommath was grateful.


Hal would have questions.

“I bet he told you I had something for you didn’t he?” At his nod Asch huffs, “of course! Ruins all my surprises- stay right there!” Rommath lets her go, not without a kiss first however.

The grand magister made himself comfortable in front of the door, leaning into the wall while he listened to Asch hurry around upstairs. His ears twitched and swiveled at each noise, perked when he heard her coming back down stairs.

She was hiding her hands behind her back, arms slightly straining. Asch got right next to him before she spoke. “The flower was so thoughtful,” she gushes, smiling beautifully.

“Magic is beautiful, your kind is wild and colourful- I get to hold it in my hand everyday... it’s apart of you and I thought... I’d give you apart of me.” Her hand came around, Rommath gazes at her cupped hands, his eyes squint briefly before adjusting to what seemed to be the most florescent chunk of stone he’d ever seen.

Held in her hands was something purely dazzling, a small sun in the palm of her hand. “It’s light magic.” Her magic. Rommath gingerly takes it. The stone was a considerably heavy thing, he could tell the weight, though no problem got him, must have been hard on her.

“Ada helped me make it, I’m not sure how...” Rommath examines it, watching it twinkle and shine. Rommath knew how it was made. Like the flower, someone must nurture it, let magic deep into the core. He could tell it was her magic just by the heat that came off of it. The rock was just ordinary, but now so much more.

“It’s wonderful,” he says honestly, emotion clear in his tone. “I’ll treasure it always Asch.” She beams, squeaking happily. Rommath leans over, kissing her sweetly.

Rommath parts, but stays pressed close to her “I’m sorry the day was wasted, I wanted to take you out to lunch.” Asch pouts, but folds her hands over his, invading the shining rock.

“I was invited to a party in the spire, was that your doing?” Rommath frowns, “what? No- I- Lor’themar...” Asch giggles at his snap, “well- it can make up for today! Unless... you didn’t invite me because you didn’t want me there?” Rommath tuts, hushing her “of course not, I wasn’t even going.” Relief washes over her face.

“But I suppose I will now. I’ll pick you up an two hours before?” Asch’s brow furrows in confusion, Rommath smirks, “I would like to spend time with you, alone.” Asch blushes crimson at his implications and purring voice, Rommath was teasing.

“O-oh I... I,” Rommath hums, “Wear something red. It’s your colour.”

Notes:

EDITED ON
Feb 26, 2019

Chapter 89: Lor’themar/Arthas dabbles 5

Summary:

Lor’themar/Original female

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

The night was drawing closer, the sun was almost lost. Lor’themar impatiently taps his foot and rolls his eyes as their shipmaster drawls in a little too long about the affairs of their navy.


Hal had noticed and was greatly amused he almost didn’t want to help, but in spirit of assisting, he opened his mouth.

“That sounds interesting- why don’t you show me?” Rommath scowls immediately, knowing he would have to go along. Lor’themar casts a thankful look at his Ranger general as he pulls the ship master away.


Lor’themar didn’t doubt Asch was already in their quarters, he just hoped she wasn’t in bed already.

Lor’themar was rude and didn’t wave or incline his head at the guards he passed, they must have known he was on a mission of some kind because they opened the doors well before he got to them.

Lor’themar was loud when he hurried up the stairs, thumping his feet into the stone without a care. Asch surely must have heard him when he swung the door open.


In fact, his little wife was rubbing her eyes, blanket around her shoulders as she came around the open door separating their bedroom from the living quarters.

“Lo...?” She asks in a tired voice, ears twitching, slightly droopy. Under the fur blanket Lor’themar could see a short, soft looking nightdress, one that exposed the better part of her thighs and the little frayed scrap of cloth she stole from his cloak.

A warm feeling erupted in his chest “hello darling,” he coos, unable to help himself “did I wake you?” Asch smiles, “I wasn’t asleep for long.” Long enough to get a sleepy look about her that Lor’themar adored so.

“What’s wrong?” Ah, yes he must have frightens her with his loud feet and banging. “I wanted- was hoping I could ask you something?” This made her ears perk and eyes become clearer, “What’s that?” Lor’themar had begun moving closer, it was rather cold in the room, but many windows were open, Asch must have not borthered to close them before going to bed.

“I have a surprise, but we would have to leave Silvermoon for it- will you let me show it to you?” Asch’s brows furrow in confusion “leave Silvermoon...? Mhm, I suppose? What is this surprise?” Lor’themar springs into action, “I can’t tell you or it will be ruined, beloved.”


Asch became more and more confused when he told her to pack a small suitcase.

“Should I get dressed?” Lor’themar thinks for a moment, “No, that’s fine.” Asch scoffs, shaking her head “but I’m almost naked- you said we were leaving the city.” Lor’themar hums, “We are, here-“ Lor’themar unclips his cloak, draping it over her shoulder before peaking her lips lightly “that will do.”


Asch tuts, “What kind of surprise...” she mumbles, going back to her own packing.


Hal, bless him.

Hal had his strider ready to travel and outside the citadel, Asch eyes it suspiciously, but allows Lor’themar to help her into it. The bird was quick and they made it out of the city in good pace, Asch continued to be embarrassed by her attire as they leave into the forest. “What on earth, Lo.” She hisses, pulling the hood up so as not to get her hair tangled in branches.

Lor’themar simply chuckles, kissing the back of her head, “Wait and see my love,” He tells her. Asch fidgets in her seat in front of him, fiddling with his bracers while he leads the hawk to the destination.

Finally they pulled into the clearing and Lor’themar eases to a stop, Asch looks around before pausing, staring at the cabin tucked away in light brush.

“Surprise,” he whispers.


Asch can’t say anything, her mouth is sealed shut in shock, Lor’themar slides off the hawks back, waiting patiently for her.

“Lo...” she finally utters, barely able to look at him, Lor’themar continues to smile, urging her to take his hand. “I made it for you,” He says, lifting her off the bird.


Asch looks at him, blinking and not much else, Lor’themar would have been concerned if not for the tight grip she had on his hands. “Let me show you.”


Lor’themar carries her through the threshold just like the day they got married and did so again today. He remembers her being embarrassed and dropping her flowers, burying his warm face in his neck as she laughs.

Today Asch leans into him, curious and shocked. Lor’themar didn’t let her down until she was right in front of their bed, also the same as their wedding day.

Instead of joining her however, Lor’themar goes back to the hawk, grabbing their things and feeding his bird before tethering it to the post outside.


When he returns Asch is sitting in their bed, fluffing the tiger fur with her fingers. “Do you like it?” he asks, getting her attention. Asch bites her lip, eyes watery “You did this for me?” Lor’themar nods, coming to sit next to her.

“I love it Lo- it’s beautiful.” He beams, laughing happily.


He pauses, allowing the warmth of the setting sun to tickle his skin before speaking again. “I’ve brought that red paste, he says, fishing it out “Do you want to try again? For a baby?” Lor'themar knew she remembered all too well what happened last time. When Sylvanas brought the death knight.


Lor’themar can see the hesitation and fright in her eyes, but he’s a patient man “It’s alright,” he promises, but Asch shakes her head “I... I would- I really do- badly.” Asch had always wanted babies, he remembers her talking about them when she was going to marry Kael.

She would often say it was lonely around the citadel, Kael would consistently neglect her. Asch still couldn’t wait to be married and have his children. Lor’themar wasn’t jealous, at first. He didn’t like how the prince was ignoring her and eventually grew a little hateful of him.

Lor’themar knew exactly when he wanted those wishful thoughts to be about him, those babies be his, it wasn’t any special day. Asch had once again been left aside for something Kael’thas had deemed more important, so naturally she went to Lor’themar.

The ranger had put more effort into their wedding then Kael had. Asch had brought over books and tins of cake. That day she wanted his help in picking their wedding cake and her dress.

Lor’themar has chosen a chocolate cake, knowing full well the prince hated chocolate. Asch was delighted and didn’t know any better, she marked it down to be made for later. As they shared the extra pieces she showed him the dress she wanted.


The dress she got married to Lor’themar in.

It was long, the train could easily be a whole other dress. The veil was sheer and the crown was grand. Asch didn’t wear the veil at their wedding, the dress itself wasn’t even finished. Lor’themar liked it anyway. The designs were intricate and the pattern was little suns. It had a heart shaped bodice and the belt was bow-tied fabric.

The moment she showed him the penciled drawing was the moment he knew he loved her.


Asch still has the dress, still unfinished and delicately placed in a box. Lor’themar never wants too see it finished, it was perfect as it was.

“We don’t have to start tonight,” He says, hoping to calm her obvious panic, the sun had only been gone a short while now, but he knew she was tired before that. “Okay...” She mutters nervously. Lor’themar smiles, kissing her forehead.

Lor’themar strips his armour, laying the sealed bowl of paste on a table not far from their bed before joining her.

Asch settles beside him, curled into his flesh and nuzzling his throat “I love you,” she whispers, clinging to him. “I love you too.”

Notes:

EDITED ON
February 7, 2019

Chapter 90: Illidan dabbles 17

Summary:

Illidan Stormrage/Asch Stormrage

 

It’s short and sweet, I haven’t had time to properly update but I will! I promise!

I might take some time to run over each chapter and edit them! So that’s gonna happen!

Enjoy!

Chapter Text

Illidan could hear every heartbeat in his home.

Asch, who was sleeping right next to him had a heart that beats slow, but heavy as a drum. It was the same kind Malfurion had, one all Druids had. The gaps were long and the thump was booming. It was usually like this, even when she was awake.

Edan’s heart beat silent and just as slow, this was due to his demonic nature. A faint little ping every minute. It was nearly as slow as Illidan’s.

Kair’s was faster, persistent and normal, like a humans heartbeat, but stronger. His daughter was more elf than demon. Illidan was thankful.

Tadeas was soft, noisy and normal. It beats faster than Illidan’s, but slower than Kair’s. Illidan assumes it will grow more like a demons hear rather an elves.

The very last heart was a unique beat, one very fast, not very loud and buried behind protected walls. The baby still growing. Illidan could not tell if it was a boy or girl, he could not see what it was shaping into, only that it was healthy.

Illidan had taken to ignoring sounds like these before, unless it was in battle, where knowing the speed of a heart could give advantage.

Edan said it was the most annoying noises in the world, that spending time with anything that wasn’t a hunter drove him near mad. Granted, he was young and learning to ignore things like this would take time, but Illidan did agree with his eldest.

Now, he took comfort in it. The sound of his wife’s beating heart helped him relax. The noises of his children’s kept him sane. They were all safe, alive.

The annoying little noises became his favourite ones.

Everyday since the day this pregnancy passed her first one was scary, and a blessing. Edan had come out too early, as had Kair and Tadeas. But this baby.

This baby had passed them all.

Edan was just shy of five months when he came into the world, born dead but saved by the lightforge commander. Kairos passed Edan with six months and a day, Tadeas had surprised everyone and came along exactly six months into the pregnancy.

This baby was moving into its seventh month. Far longer than all his children. Illidan was extremely worried. It’s heart was beating, he begun checking everyday day since it passed over Kairos’ record. It was almost beginning to look like a normal pregnancy.

Almost.


When he looked Illidan could see the Fel green power within it, knew it was not normal. If it came early now there was no danger, but Illidan wondered how long it would take before that day would arrive.

Illidan had told both his children the day this baby had passed both of their due dates just how dangerous it was for them to have children. Edan was especially dangerous, being possibly more of a demon now than his own father. Kair was upset, rightly so. She loved babies, wanted her own. Illidan felt pain like no other when he told her it was life threatening.

Of course, he wouldn’t stop them if they did. That was too cruel, but Illidan would not allow them to feel the pain he had.

If Kairos wished to have children, with a demon hunter or normal elf, Illidan would do everything he could for his little girl, and promised her as such.

If Edan wanted to give his mate children then Illidan would do anything he could to save that life, however unlikely it seemed.

Edan was crushed by the reality, but understood that demons had rare chances of conception and even worse odds of bringing a child to term.


The three children Illidan had were marvels and miracles on their own.


Illidan sighs, turning on his side. Asch shifted, slumping in his embrace as he wrapped his arm around her. The drum in her chest beats powerfully and Illidan listens to its infrequent, calming sound.

Argus has a beat of its own, one that was both ancient and new. Illidan was beginning to enjoy his life here, he felt like he could breathe for the first time in ages, his hunters must have as well because they had started building homes and settling in.

Demons had no place on Azeroth, not even those who helped it. Illidan loved his home, Azeroth was the place he was born, grew and fell in love, but Argus.


Argus was where he belonged.

 

Chapter 91: Garrosh dabbles 12

Summary:

Garrosh Hellscream/Original female Draenei

 

Guess whose back with our fave Orc now featuring: plot

Enjoy!!!

Chapter Text

Asch hated the smell and damp air around her, Garrosh was leading her wolf behind his, tied with thick rope looped in his saddle.


Asch’s legs hung loosely around its sides, dangling like dead weights as she tried not to throw up. The fur tickling her calfs grounded her slightly, but nothing more helped. Asch puffs out harshly, eyeing the village of forsaken as they pass along, she’s squints at the guards standing by the gates. Their glowing eyes glare at her, weapons poised. Asch sits tall, snarling at them as Garrosh turned the opposite direction.

“We’re close blueskin,” he calls over his shoulder, frowning as he got a proper look at his mate. Her skin was paler, the deep blue he grew to love was lost almost completely to her sickness. Perhaps it wasn’t all her pregnancy, Garrosh didn’t like bringing her hear and going as slow as he was but it would be cruel and unfair to move her faster than she could handle.

Thankfully he could see the remains of the old human kingdom beyond the decrepit hill. Garrosh decided to go around the hill instead of atop it.

Asch groans, the air was thick and awful. Garrosh grunts softly, “alright blueskin come here.”


Garrosh slides off his beast and carefully pulls her from her wolf, clicking his massive tongue to command them off, “be good,” he says, watching the them wonder away. They wouldn’t go far and after it was finished he could whistle them back.


Asch wobbles on her hooves for a moment, but Garrosh supports her middle, cupping her belly.

“Okay?” He asks, eyeing her suspiciously. Asch’s cheeks colour a mellow green before her eyes shut and she bares into him. Garrosh gives her a moment, watches her try and regain herself before she nods frantically, pale eyes opening again. “Okay.”


The stairs were dank and ugly, her hooves echoed loudly as they came down. What met them was four queens guard, all smelling of death and eyeing her foully.

“This way,” one hisses, bones rattling as it walked. Garrosh leads her along, spreading his shoulders out wider so there was hardly any room for the guards.


Sylvanas has a scowl, like usual. Garrosh has seen her a handful of times, her eyes were cloudy and dark, permeating around her face and markings.

“You accepted my invitation.” The Warchief says, smug sounding. Garrosh snarls his lip, glaring at her though she was hardly paying attention.


“Speak witch I have little patience for your games.” Garrosh spits, unamused.

Sylvanas reguards him coolly, then turns just enough to view Asch, ignoring him obviously. “Your army is impressive. The Warsong clan has been out of the fold for too long.” Garrosh perks at her careful words, jumping on them immediately.

“Warsong is in no fold, witch.” Asch presses her hands into his arm, nudging him away. Garrosh leans back, snarling. “I sense you are going to ask me something?” Asch tries to sound civil, more interested in what the Banshee queen had to say.

“Warsong would be useful back in the Horde.” Sylvanas states plainly.


Garrosh was about to explode before Asch touches him again, “Warsong is neutral. We fly our own banner. Not Alliance or Horde.” Sylvanas frowns lightly, blinking slowly.

“Warsong was apart of the old Horde.” Sylvanas muses, acting uninterested again. “Yes,” Asch agrees, “but I am not.”

“You’ve taken orcs and given them to the Alliance?” She snorts, as if it was a terrible joke. Asch sighs deeply, shaking her head “neither. We hold no interest in faction war. I am no long Alliance and I will not become Horde. We are Warsong.”


The Warcheif looked as if she was going to speak again, but Asch interrupts “thank you for taking interest in my clan, but I cannot allow Warsong into the Horde again.” Asch tugs onto Garrosh, signaling she was finished.


“Thank you Warcheif.”

Chapter 92: Lor’themar/Arthas dabbles 6

Summary:

Lor’themar Theron/Asch Theron

 

So I might dip into their past, cause I like forbidden romance!

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

There was little Lor’themar wishes to remember about the war, the betrayal.


Lor’themar remembers an inn, it was hastily created as a base of operations, the surrounding homes were borrowed from their owners and became sanctuary for all those found in the rubble.

Lor’themar was Lord Regent then, but Asch was still his princess. In their time of need, despite not being queen everyone looked to her for example. Of course she knew little of what to do and understandably wrecked with nerves. Any time the lord regent saw her, Asch was shaking and terrified.

Lor’themar remembers escorting her into his makeshift office, a once very beautiful and expensive honeymoon suite. Lor’themar can still see her face, how she broke down and finally expelled her worries. Asch called herself faulted, a terrible leader to her people. She called herself a trophy wife, one not suited to rule equally along Kael.


Lor’themar silenced her then, refusing too hear anymore of it. He promised she would be a good ruler, one the people loved. That right now it wasn’t her duty to understand all that was happening, that it was his job to fix it as regent lord, not the princess’.


Asch was suppose to inspire her people, show them there was nothing to be afraid of. It was Lor’themar job to be bloody and protect them from the onslaught.

“We will endure,” Lor’themar whispers faintly, clutching her shoulders in a most inappropriate display of affection. His hands were not allowed to touch the princess’ no matter how familiar he was with her. But rules did not matter in that moment when she looked up at him, eyes shiny and nervous.

Her delicate fingers reach for his face and Lor’themar dares not move. The soft pads of her fingers ghost over his grotesque scar. She seemed mesmerized, not disgusted like so many before her were.

“Does it hurt?” She says almost in pain herself, ears drooping in a show of concern, one most unbecoming of a princess. Lor’themar lets his gaze drop, his good eye stares at the pool of her dress. “Sometimes,” He divulges, leaning into her soft touch, “Headaches, nothing more, my princess.”


He didn’t want to worry her, but he sensed that it was already too late by the sheer look of sadness on her face. Without warning she leans up and kisses just under his damaged eye.

It was wrong, he knew that, but Lor’themar couldn’t let her pull away. Not when she was so close. In an instant, without his consent his hands grab her sides, pulling her toward him. Asch stumbles into him, a soft gasp escapes her before Lor’themar swallows all sound by crashing his mouth onto hers.


Lor’themar has never seen Kael kiss her once, his public affection was very careful and insincere. He allowed Asch the courtesy of holding his arm and that was all he had ever known the prince to do. A giddy feeling inside him wanted him to believe he’d just stolen her first kiss, but he had no way of knowing.

What shocks him most was how she hadn’t pulled away, but instead sank into his embrace. Almost as if she was meant there all along.

Lor’themar deepens the kiss, threading his hand into her hair and clawing at her hip. Asch’s gentle fingers yank at her dress, pulling it away from her legs so she can get closer. She was practically in his lap by the time he parted for air. Asch gasps in his face, breathing frantically. Lor’themar instantly felt dread well up inside of him.


“I’m so sorry my princess!” He belts, craning away without anywhere to go. His back pressed firmly into the wood chair, he could feel her delicate hands against his beaten armour, flat pressed and twitching on their own accord.


At last her little fingers curl into fists and he almost thinks she about to hit him, “A-again” She trembles, lips shiny and swollen “Please d-do it again-“ Lor’themar knew better than to make his princess beg. In a sudden lapse of judgement Lor’themar whisks her off his lap, shoving whatever was on the tables surface away. In a rush of pure emotion he kisses her with all he has, venting his pent up feelings, only hoping she feels the utter love and adoration he holds for her.


Things clack loudly against the floor, a sea of ships and tiny squads of wooden soldiers splay across the hardwood as Lor’themar kisses his princess, having no care for the war around him. Asch’s thighs part and cling to him the best her dress allows, Lor’themar presses right against the table in effort to get her closer.


His mouth works against hers in frantic, sloppy kisses. His tongue bats at hers, tasting chocolate and Asch. Lor’themar presses his hand into the small of her back, trying to force her forward while the other lays flat against the table.


Her hands work into his hair, the corn silk strands spill over his shoulders in a mess. The leather tie that secured his ridged style was lost to the floor, but he hardly cared. Her hands caress his skull with utter love while her fingers twirl the hair around. Lor’themar purrs into her mouth with absolute delight.

Lor’themar parts once more for air, pressing his forehead into hers, basking in the glory of their shared space. A soft, breathless and beautiful giggle escapes her puffed, pretty lips. Lor’themar smiles at the sound, enthralled by the noise. It was right, she was meant to be there, by his side and in his arms.


Lor’themar would show her love, no matter where they were. He would show everyone just what she meant too him. Lor’themar could give her a comfortable life, not one fitting a princess, but a good one.

His estate wasn’t even half the size of Kael’s, the money he made on commission wasn’t nearly enough to give Asch what she deserved, but Lor’themar couldn’t let her go- not after this.


Asch rouses him from his cloudy thoughts with a chaste kiss to the side of his mouth, happily smiling the one smile he knew was reserved for him. Lor’themar bubbles in affection, nuzzling his cheek into hers. Asch and everything about her was soft and delicate, Lor’themar couldn’t help but wonder if his touch was rough to her. It seemed that way to him. Kael had no use for sword play or doing anything with his hands other than create spells.

Lor’themar’s hands, shoulders- even bones were callous and hard. Years of being a Farstrider made him harsh and rugged. Most women didn’t like that, it was dirty and undignified.

Asch was about to speak, but a hard knock was heard at the door. Lor’themar sharply turns, “What?!” He all but hisses, thankfully whoever it was did not enter and called through the door in a more dignified voice. “I am to escort the princess home my lord.” Lor’themar curses, still holding the small of her back.

“You are?” Asch suddenly speaks, mischief in her voice. Lor’themar eyes her with suspicion before the attendant speaks up again, “Yes my lady! It’s not safe for you!” Asch hums, petting the metal of Lor’themar breastplate absently.

“Who better too see me home than lord regent- wouldn’t you say?” She smiles at him. Lor’themar was stunned for a moment, but quickly responds “Oh- yes my lady!” He sounded like an eager pup.

Gingerly he helps her off the table, fixing the rumples in her dress before tying his hair back into place. When he opens the door the attendant is weary, frowning at the mess on the floor, his mouth opened but then closed at the sight of his princess looking at him.


Asch was alway kind to everyone she met and touches his hands, “Thank you for coming all this way. The lord regent will see me home- please find something to eat.” Lor’themar smiles idly at her soft words, watching the boy colour an absolute ridiculous shade of red.

“Y-yes my princess!” He practically squeaks, bolted in his spot.


“Mhm... Lo?” Beside him Asch stirs blinking the sleep away, it was still early- far to early to be awake.

“Yes darling?” He coos, stroking her face, “what are you doing awake...?” Lor’themar sighs, closing his eye “just remembering our first kiss.” He can feel her smile.

Notes:

EDITED ON
February 22, 2019

Chapter 93: Illidan dabbles 18

Summary:

Illidan Stormrage/Asch Stormrage

Thank you all so much for your comments, views and bookmarks! It means so much to me!

Chapter Text

Mangi blinks, eyes wide and full of concern. “My lady! You are very pregnant!” His stocky legs couldn’t carry him fast enough toward her before Illidan’s mighty ear twitched.

“Illidan!” At the squeak of his mate Illidan’s already hurried steps became leaps, skidding into the entrance where Magni was standing with out stretched arms, as if he was going to catch her.

“Asch...?” Illidan says in a level voice, careful and calm. Whereas Asch was neither of those things, her face was pintched and scared. Her lips tremble in effort to speak, “b-baby!” Illidan couldn’t see blood, her dress was wet but it had no foul colouring.

“When?” She looks at him like he’s gone mad, “now!” Illidan huffs, “no when did it happen?” She was frantic, “um- I... a little ago- Illidan it- it... hurts,” she hisses in pain. Illidan lifts her up, frowning in concern. “Dwarf- find my brother.”

 

Edan had caught his parents as he was passing in the hall, “Ada-?”

“Baby.” His father says without much else, easily hurrying passed.


Illidan lets Asch down, nestling her in their bed while she whines uncomfortably. Her brow was slick with sweat and her hair was matted.

Angry little hisses come from her swollen lips, Illidan parts her knees and ruts up her dress “comfortable?” It was almost amusing the way she looked at him in utter fury. “What can I do?” She huffs, digging into the pillows.

“It’s hot.”

Illidan felt silly, but for his mate he would allow that. Beating his wings to create wind was the least he could do while she suffered.

A soft knock erupts and Kair is calling from the other side, “Ada uncle is here,” Illidan let’s her open the door. Kair looked nervous, but very excited by the sound of her heart beating.


Malfurion pads in behind her, feathers ruffled proudly when he sees them. “Another on the way?” Illidan nods his great head, “this one had come full term- is it alright?” His brother paused, eyes wide.

“Let’s have a look shall we?” Mal was quick too school his face but Illidan could tell he was shocked. Of course this was the first baby Illidan was allowing anyone near- besides that Paladin. Although that was after the birth not during.

Mal goes about doing what Illidan remembers priestesses doing, first he checks between her legs, humming at his conclusions. Then he feels her belly and listens, Illidan can see the life magic he channeled and finally he gently looks at Asch’s face, holding it in the palm of his hand and smiling at her when he finished.

“It’s coming along- maybe an hour or so. There is nothing wrong that I can feel and both of you are healthy,” he tells Asch, nodding along in a happily and bubbly manner. “The delivery will be safe I assure you,” Illidan felt his chest lighten at those words.

“Would you like to deliver it?” Illidan says in a measured tone, watching his brother completely explode in the most unbecoming way of an Archdruid. “You- you would allow me...? You- me... yes!” He squawks, Illidan snorts at the display of feathers and fur standing straight.


“Ada?” Edan stands in the open door, head tilted curiously at his mother. The black smoke of his eyes were eerily thick with emotion. “Yes little one?” Edan gulps, biting his lip, he still doesn’t meet his fathers eye.

“It... it doesn’t look right-“ he says, Illidan frowns, following his gaze to where it landed on Asch’s stomach. “It’s- it’s-“ “I see it Edan.”

What Illidan sees can’t really be explained, before the shade of green was Fel and bright, healthy despite having demon blood. What it appeared as now, on the eve of its brith was only shades darker than Edan’s new black and hellish appearance.

Mal has picked up what had been said and quickly spoke, “it’s still healthy- there is nothing wrong!” At this point he was saying it more for Asch, even though he could not see it like Edan or Illidan Malfurion knew it was far from normal.


It looked like a greyish maelstrom, swirling with life of its own. The colour flared, changing into a lighter almost white shade.

It took many more hours than estimated for the baby to be born, in fact it took so long Asch was beginning to become accustomed to the pains. She even had Tadeas beside her, letting him curiously touch her belly. The babies little hands would do no harm and the excitement in his face never petered off the entire time he was allowed in the room.

Eventually the room and filled out, Mal was by the bed while Illidan sat on it, fanning away the heat with his wings. Kair was on the floor with Edan, braiding his hair. Tyrande had even came inside, not staying very long but enough to congratulate the two.

Illidan found it was an odd set of events, but than each of his children had complications and this was the first that had any sort of normal birth.

Asch huffs as another wave of pain hits and Mal leans to check, “Ah- it’s time.” At the words Edan and Kair get up, gathering Tadeas “good luck nana!” Kair gushes, pulling Edan with her.

Illidan watches them leave, Edan looks back a moment, nodding at his father before being tugged out.


Illidan has never been in this position. He was always the one to deliever their babies, but now that Mal was here Illidan had nothing to do. Asch had taken his hand and squeezed it each time pain rolled through her but there was nothing more for him to do. All he could do was sit eagerly as Mal commanded her to push.

It felt like a lifetime but when the baby came Illidan could feel it’s life flare and he stilled, watching Mal being the baby to his chest.

A moment passed and he checks over it.

“It’s a boy.” Illidan expels a sigh, worry leaving him as Mal wraps their baby in a soft blanket and finally passed him to Asch.


Illidan tilts his head to see his new babies face, his skin was a dark purple and his forehead had little brown nubs. Beside the wail he let out at birth their new baby was by far the quietest one of all four.


Asch coos, rubbing her face into his “he’s perfect,” she mutters. Illidan nods and with the utmost care he caresses the stiff little horn on his head.

“So?” Mal asks, “what’s his name?”


Illidan looks at Asch.

“Yllidis.”

Chapter 94: Illidan dabbles 19

Notes:

Illidan Stormrage/Asch Stormrage

Ohh!!! Thank you so much for the massive amount of views! This is nuts!

 

Illidan has gotten 19 chapters so far! Gasp! 20 will be a good one I promise!

Chapter Text

Illidan looks at his mates face. It had been ten thousand years and little had changed. Once she had no tattoos, but this was not a bad thing. Now she wore the mark of her calling, leaves of Druid healing. Kair their only girl had gotten hers just recently, black of colour and shaped like short daggers, not what Illidan imagines a priest having but somehow they fit her face well.


Asch was nursing their latest addition, Yllidis. Barely a week had passed since his birth and finally most of his features had filled in. Colour came to his skin in a blackish grey, a soft and nice shade that looked nothing like the rest of his children. Illidan could not complain, all of his children were unique in some way.

Yllidis also has frothy white eyes, something neither of them expected too see. They expelled wispy smoke like Edan’s and were shaped like his mothers. The horns on his head and faded into a milky brown, still to small to tell any shape it would take but Illidan would worry later.


All and all his baby was healthy and happy, very quiet save meek coos he made at his mother but that was hardly a problem.

“You’re staring,” Asch finally says, in a playful tone. Illidan blinks, coming back to himself. “Is there wrong in it?” He says with a smirk, leaning toward her.

Asch’s eyes were tired but loving, her neck cranes out and with little effort she swipes her cheek into his broad horn. Illidan rumbles, clawing toward her to return the affection.

It was a ritual of sorts they had started long ago, one Asch would think him strange for. Though Illidan did not give her much credit, he had forgotten she was a Druid and they, by their very definitions were animalistic. The strange and over baring need to nuzzle and spread his scent was demonic at best, but Asch embraced, encouraged and indulged this side of him.

Illidan rumbles softly, a thing felt more then heard. Asch sighs in response, nose rubbing into his skin. Illidan’s wings droop, sagging like liquid. Yllidis had fallen asleep because of the calming sounds coming from his father and Illidan was free to pull Asch into his lap, securing their youngest between them in a protective embrace. Asch’s heart thumped a tad faster, it’s usual absent beat could hammer as fast as a humming bird if Illidan pressed all the right buttons, but tonight wasn’t about that.

Illidan inhaled deeply, taking in the scent that had changed so much. Once she smelt like a city, having no calling until he was well into war. Then she smelt like moss and stayed that way until they were mated, then Asch smelt like moss and Illidan. When Edan was born she smelt like blood and demon bile, of Argus and all things fowl- but still smelt wonderful too him.


Now she smelt like a mother, a warm and protective honey sweet pine that Illidan could only describe as devine. She still had hints of moss and mud, but that was trumped by honey flowers and sugar. All things a mother should smell like, approachable, calm and naturing. Illidan had no idea what his scent was or what it smelt like to her, but he guessed it was good since they spent ample time doing this.

Once he remembered a newborn hunter telling him he smelt like brimstone and fire, rotting corpses and arcane. He had been offended greatly, but didn’t show it. Of what they said arcane had been the most surprising. Illidan was a great mage, but he thought he had lost the smell of magic on him long ago. Arcane had a bitter smell to it, something you could almost taste and wish to spit out.

Khadgar had been riddled with it, it clung to his very being just like his skin on his bones.

Some people said it tasted like your mouth was full of cotton or coated thickly, most mages couldn't tell, but all others who did not practice the discipline could. Some said frost mages smelt like crisp mountain air, thin and breathless. Fire were heavy and hot, stifling really.

Illidan had always wanted to ask Asch what she could smell off him, but never did. The thought did not press him to ask, he was not afraid she could smell brimestone or arcane.


Asch pulls away, looking more tired then before. Illidan watches her put Yllidis into his crib, only inches away from the side of their bed before returning to him, arms now free to wrap around his sculpted middle.

Illidan embraces her fully, pressed chest to chest tightly. There was still fat in her belly and her breasts were double their usually size, but the weight would be lost quickly after she was allowed off bed rest. Druids burn a lot of energy transforming which meant she would lose all the weight she had gained. Younger Druids were always told to be very careful, it was easier to stay thin than it was fat and dangerous too.

Mal had faced the issue long ago, he would eat little and lose weight, so much in fact his ribs were visible. Illidan had remembered the only way to fix it was just to eat and eat lots.


Asch ate gluttonous amounts of food, where Illidan could hardly eat much at all. Edan and his siblings were fortunate in the fact they gained the eating habits of a demon and could barely ever finish a plate.

 

Asch’s hands slip from his back, hanging uselessly behind him. Illidan notices his wife had fallen asleep in his arms and smiles softly. Gently laying her down he carries the sheets over his legs, dropping over her and settling himself. Illidan brings his wing from its low rested spot and blankets it over Yllidis’ crib, his baby doesn’t stir and Illidan allows himself to lull into sleep.


Waking up was slow and pleasant, in his ears beats the soft heart of his son and sparingly is mates. Illidan sifts only slightly, gathering the feeling back into his legs.


Yllidis coos in his crib, Illidan sways his head to look over at the baby, watching him outstretch his feet and plant them against the leather of Illidan’s wing. Asch sighs, turning toward her husband. Illidan glances toward her, smiling softly as she sleeps soundlessly.

Careful not to jostle her Illidan gets up and untangles from the sheets, peeling he wing away from his curious baby. Yllidis looks up at his father with big, curious eyes. Illidan snorts before picking him up.


Yllidis’ fists ball against his collarbone, Illidan admires the soft smoking eyes staring up at him as he moves.

The house was silent as he moves through it, the only one awake was Kair and she wasn’t truly awake. His daughter glances his way, hair a mess and eyes tired. Illidan curtly nods, not daring to make a sound and Kair smiles, picking up her glass and retreating back to her room no doubt to go back to sleep.


Argus has no sun and almost usually filled with darkness, Illidan could tell it was close to sun up however. His hunters were out and continuing their diligent cleaning. Illidan almost laughed aloud watching the hunters yank dirt from under the hard packed surface.

His prized killers, becoming farmers.

 

They looked so happy.


Yllidis stares out at the vast nothingness, Illidan nuzzles his chin into his soft hair “this is your home,” he whispers, Yllidis hears his father, doesn’t understand him but looks up as if he does. “Whatever you decide, whoever you shall be. This will always be your home.” Yllidis squeaks at his father, producing he loudest sound Illidan has ever heard come from his newest baby.


Yllidis reaches up and nuzzles his whole face into Illidan’s neck, Illidan purrs proudly.

“There you are,” Illidan glances behind him, delighted when he sees Asch lovingly staring up at him. Yllidis’ ears perk st the sound of her voice. Illidan passes him into her arms knowingly. “Are you hungry?” She coos, mushing her perky nose into his cheek. Yllidis babbles, grabbing clumps of hair.

Illidan hesitates, watching her “stay a moment?”

“Of course my love.”

Asch’s dress drags against the stone floor, piling around her feet as she walks up to his side, hip propped agasint the balcony rest.


“They are happy here,” he muses, drawing her attention over the land. They both land upon a few hunters, sitting and laughing as they rest. “They belong here, it is their home.” She pauses, smiling broadly “our home.”

“Yes,” Illidan sighs, brings his arm around her.

“Our home.”


Asch jumps up on her toes, pressing a kiss to his cheek, “he needs to be fed,” Illidan kisses her head, letting her go. Illidan stalls a moment before gingerly following his mate.

Asch sits in their bed, petting their babies hair as he suckles. Illidan seats himself near by, cleaning his wings with a wet cloth.

Recently he’s begun to take care of himself better then he ever had. Cleaning his hooves the way the Draenei taught him and wetting his wings with a soft oil and rag. He’s come to notice the change, a good change. His hooves no longer chip st the base, his wings don’t tear and his horns don’t shed. In fact they looked shiny and kept. Asch said she liked how soft his wings got and Illidan even jolted in pleasure at the kiss she pressed against the skin.


They were sensitive in the best way and resisted the wind very well. Asch even giggled at him one day after he waxed his horns, said he looked handsome preening. Illidan didn’t think he was.

The colour of his wings looked more vibrant and healthy, as did his hooves. Instead of burnt black they appeared more brown and natural in colour. His horns still retained a dark set to them, but that was to be expected.

Quite a lot had changed since moving to Argus, Illidan felt a comfort he’d thought was long lost. Azeroth was his birthplace, the world he would protect against anything, but he felt no comfort there. Foreign in his own lands. Argus was suppose to be his cage, yet he found charm and life in it’s cracked surface. He was glad.


As he cleans his wings joints Illidan recalls his old wishes and dreams. If he had never done any of this he could be living in Darnassus with his wife and four children, maybe six. If he only came home after the war, their life could have been so simple.


With a smile on his face Illidan glances over at Asch, still feeding their youngest and thinks, he did not have to wish or imagine or think about the life he lost on Azeroth. It was right here. He finally had it.

Asch catches his eye, a devilish smile comes to her face, “What?” She asks, but sounds like she knows the answer already. Illidan tucks his wing back, “I am happy.”

Asch giggles, “I can see that.”

The sound of her voice made his heart feel warm and safe.


Illidan slides across the bed like a lazed snake, much to Asch’s amusement. Illidan rests his chin against her knee, sighing contented when her hand grabs his horn. Purrs when her hands carts through his loose hair and scratches his head with her nails. The joints in his wings crackle with his back and the popping noise alarms Yllidis, but amuses his wife.


Illidan can see the soft glow of Fel shine across her fingers where his blood stained her hand. They had been married for quite some time now, Edan was a squalling baby when Illidan decided it was time. Asch did not like to make anything of it, but they always exchanged small gifts and made love. Illidan reaches with his finger, tracing the tattoo with precision. Illidan still wonders what it would have been like being married instead of improsioned. He supposed they would have had a real wedding, with his family and hers. Illidan had never met Asch’s brothers or sister. She said he wouldn’t want too.


Two older brothers, one he knew died in the war and a younger sister who left home long ago. Asch did not know where they were if they loved or died, married or made children. Asch was very young to her brothers as very old to her sister. Where Illidan and Asch’s children were hardly years apart, she and her siblings were tens of thousands years apart.

Asch had denounced her family name and detested it when people called her by it. Redfires. She hated it so much. Her father, lord Refire- Illidan cannot remember his name though it hardly mattered now- he was given the name when he burnt down a whole stronghold full of soldiers, families and their children.

The fires were as red as the blood seeping from their bodies. Asch carried the name with great shame.

Asch grabs his fingers, lacing them with hers, now she carries his name. Stormrage.

“Archdruid Stormrage,” he mutters, “sounds better on you than my brother.” Asch snorts, squeezing his fingers. Yes, she was proud of that name. Proud her children carried it, proud he gave it to her.


“Is that so, lord Stormrage?” Illidan grins at her teasing tone, “that is so.”

“I haven’t been much of a archdruid since our coming here.” She does not sound upset by this despite her words. “Too busy being a mother.” Those words were filled with love.

“One would think that a higher calling,” Illidan offers, ghosting his fingers along Yllidis’s back. “Far higher.”


They spend some time in silence, equally marvelling over their baby, until Illidan feels raised and irritated skin on his shoulders. “He’s growing wings,” Asch hums, already aware. “He doesn’t seem in pain, it looks healthy.” Much healthier then Edan’s.

“Very,” he agrees, petting the skin softly. Illidan had watched countless demon hunters obtain their wings, bones ripping out of their backs and exposed muscles and blood. It was a sight to behold. Edan gained his much the same way, bloody and screaming. Yllidis hardly seemed bothered by the bumps on back, no bigger than grapes. For now at least they would be.


Illidan shuts his eyes, listening to the calm beat of their hearts, the single short thump of Asch’s and the continued bump of Yllidis’


Everything was fine.

 

Chapter 95: Lor’themar/ Arthas dabbles 7

Summary:

Lor’themar/original female character

Not gonna lie I thought I posted this...

WARNING
Mentions of abuse
Verbal abuse

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Guards weren’t surprised at seeing Lor’themar with their princess. The only acknowledgement they gave him was a slight nods whereas Asch was given a full bow. 

 

Lor’themar wasn’t bothered, he was merely a stand-in for their real king. 

As they entered Lor’themar was dazed by the glittering pillars and dressed walls. Among all the war and fighting he had almost forgot that Kael and Asch were getting married. 

“It’s not finished-“ she says distracting him, “But I doubt it will be before he gets back.” 

Lor’themar also forgot the prince was on his way home. 

A pit fell in his stomach, Kael was coming home, coming back to his bride and his crown.

Asch’s lips were still puffed and shiny.

“It will still be beautiful,” Lor’themar says the only thing he thinks is proper at this point. 

Distance.

His lips were still full of her taste. 

Something fell upon her face, a sad and knowing turn in her lips. Lor’themar did not like to see her sad, but he knew nothing could be said to change it. 

Lor’themar wanted to pull away from her grip, let her go and leave their secrets behind, but the princess kept holding him. 

“My princess I must-“ “I know,” she whispers, “They are expecting you.” Still she does not release him. Lor’themar opens his mouth, but cannot bring himself to say a thing when he sees tears begin to fall down her beautiful face.

“Ju-just...” she sniffles, “Just once- once more... please?” Lor’themar feels the air fly out of his lungs, unsure how to breathe for a moment. Great pain shook through him at the thought. One last time. When Kael returned he would wed her, complete their marriage the same night- give Asch the golden hair boy she always gushed about to Lor’themar.

 

One last time and he would never see her again. 

 

Lor’themar without thinking, surges forward, grabbing her with gentle force. His lips met hers in a bruising full on kiss. Her nails scratch into his armour, surely chipping them on the metal. His hands pulls her close, desperately trying to erase the space between them. Lor’themar can taste the salt of her tears now, with one final second he parts.

Pulling her by the arms away from him, her chest is heaving and she looks more beautiful than his have ever eyes seen before. He lets go, stepping back one huge pace. “My princess.” He says for the last time. 

Lor’themar had not seen his princess since that day, he had heard she was diligently readying the wedding and not much else. 

Rommath had came, informed him of the princes’ arrival and Lor’themar had thought Kael would have wished Rommath to tell his bride as well. Rommath had looked at him funny and said Kael made no mention of her, or even that he was suppose to tell her of Kael’s return. 

Lor’themar blinked, perplexed completely by that, “He wishes not to tell his own wife of his safe arrival?” The question was out of line, something he should it have blurted out. Rommath’s brows drew  in irritation, but all he said in return was: “They are not yet married.”

It was hardly an answer, barely even good enough on its own as a statement. No they were not yet married but it wasn’t as though they weren’t intended to be for years now. In fact Kael was suppose to be crowned and married the moment he returned to Silvermoon, reguardless of the circumstances that drew him home. 

But that ‘moment’ should have been years ago. While the prince was off in Dalaran Asch had been here, waiting his return and now the prince wasn’t going to bother telling her he was home? Lor’themar frowns angrily,  “I believe my princess is due this knowledge.” 

Rommath was taken aback by the hissed words. “Tell my lady her fiancé has arrived and do so quickly.” Rommath was easily more important than Lor’themar would ever be, but in that fatal moment the mage resigns with a glare as hot as any fireball.

 

“Very well, Lord Regent. It will be done.” 

 

Lor’themar had soured considerably since he mounted and met his future king. He escorted the prince into the city and answered every question his prince had asked and not one was about Asch.

Lor’themar puffed his chest and spoke over the prince's rabblings, “My princess is doing well Prince Kael’thas, the arrangements are all in order.” There was a frown etched into his face, one of irritation and annoyance. 

“What arrangements?” He says in a snapped, commanding tone. Lor’themar frowns equally deep, “the wedding my prince.” A moment passes and the prince looks as though he’s deciding what to do with the information.

“There is no time for a wedding,” Lor’themar’s eye goes wide as shock settles in, “but my prince your coronation and wedding were to be on the day you returned!” Lor’themar believed he failed in hiding his outrage but the prince merely waves his long fingers, looking ahead.

“Yes and this was decided long ago, it can wait until this war is over.” Lor’themar could not contain his disbelief as they entered the city’s centre. The inn was bustling with the remains of their shattered people and as Kael got off his silver strider, a voice all to familiar and distant called out.

“Kael! Kael!” Lor’themar couldn’t bear to see her, closing his good eye before any form of her person invaded his vision. 

Kael from his side grunted in annoyance, “Let go of me- you look like a common fool!” At the angry whispers Lor’themar’s eye shot open. Asch’s face had fallen, no doubt she was so happy to see him. 

“But- but Kael you’ve been gone for so long!” Lor’themar knew the sound of her voice when she was about to cry, “I missed you so much...” the displeasure on his face was seemless, clear and blunt. 

“Don’t be so needy, it is unbecoming.” Asch’s lip quivered but she had shed no tears at his words, instead sighing brokenly before composing herself the best she could. 

“My dress isn’t ready but the citadel is beautiful!” The pain in her voice was almost too much to bare, what came next was worse.

“What? Why did you have our people waste their time on that?!” His voice was so cruel, Asch had begun to finger her skirts, “What... what do you mean my love?” Kael sighed harshly, rolling his eyes.

“There is a war, I have no time for you or a wedding. There are more important things to be done.” Asch looked devastated, her ears fell like wet parchment and her eyes grew so dull. Her mouth opened and then shut, Kael was glaring at her, awaiting a response.

Finally she spoke in almost too quiet whisper “I... I understand-“ Kael did not wait for her to say anything else and simply left her in his wake.

Lor’themar couldn’t handle the look on her face anymore and rolled off his strider, going to where Asch had almost collapsed. “Princess...?” She barely registered his voice, “let me take you inside.” 

Lor’themar could barely feel her weight as he carried her into the inn. No one had truly heard the exchange- or maybe they had- they had just seen the prince shove her away and leave without another word. Lor’themar was at least grateful no one was looking their way, or whispering too loud. He was sure someone was already spreading a rumour around.

There was no doubt in his mind that when he got up the stairs they would surely be taking in hushed tone about it all. Lor’themar tried not to think about it as he settled her down onto the honeymoon bed that had been his bed for the last few weeks. 

 

Lor’themar knelt in front of her, the dress she wore was so pretty- no doubt it was for Kael. The bottom of it was a bloody red before it faded into a sunset orange around the middle, and the top was a brilliant yellow. All custom colours of a fire mage. Lor’themar curses his prince, Asch was so dedicated to him and Kael couldn’t even see it. 

 

The luckiest men were almost always the foolish ones. 

 

“H-he must be so b-busy” she excused, “M-my poor p-prince” her voice broke around the words. 

 

Lor’themar scowls, “he shouldn’t have treated you that way.” Asch rubs her eyes, carrying her tears away “h-he doesn’t!” She insists, “h-he must be tired... he’s like that when he’s t-tired” Lor’themar flintches, mouth open and shocked. 

 

“Asch.” Her name escapes his mouth. She looks at him with tearful eyes, “Has he done this before?” Lor’themar saw very little of the prince, he knew Asch was treated badly, but now he wondered just how badly it was. 

 

“N-no... no of course... not.” She dismisses, not looking at him. “Asch,” he say firmly “Has he done this before?” 

 

Shame and embarrassment bloom on her face, “Just- just when he’s upset... it’s alright he just- he’s so stressed.” She tries to smile but fails miserably “I’m silly and I forgot he’s so b-busy...” Lor’themar grips her knees, looking up at her with care. 

 

“He’s never hit you, has he Asch?” 

 

 

Her eyes look anywhere but his face. 

 

 

“Asch. Has he hit you?” 

 

“He- he just... he’s stressed.” Lor’themar hid his rage expertly. “I-it’s okay- I was just silly and got in the way-“ he cuts her off “no. No you do not.” 

 

He heaved a sigh, “my day is brighter when you are in it. I would be lucky to have you by my side.” Another, small sigh “he will not hit you again. Ever again.” 

 

Asch’s chest puffs, trying not to cry “it’s okay,” he promises, than her eyes burst and Lor’themar almost falls back when she rushes into him. Lor’themar wouldn’t ask more of her, he knows just what kind of drama that could raise. He would never allow more to happen. 

 

“You will stay here. Right here.” Lor’themar says, holding her tightly “B-but Kael-“ “I don’t care about Kael.” 

Notes:

EDITED ON
February 22, 2019

Chapter 96: Lor’themar/Arthas dabbles 8

Summary:

Lor’themar Theron/Original female character

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

 

Kael did not notice Asch was gone, Lor’themar did not care, better he wasn’t interested in where his wife was. Asch was distraught, of course he understood why. If his fiancé was missing, he would notice- be upset even. 

 

But he was not missing a fiancé, he did not have one. 

 

Lor’themar however had someone else’s. 

 

 

Lor’themar kept her very close, even allowed her in discussions that involved things women were not privy too. 

 

They did not like their gentle princess in the war room. 

 

Thankfully when questioned Lor’themar said she was their princess and it was important she knew about her cities state of being. They didn’t press and there was honesty in his deception, Asch wanted to know how to better help her people. 

 

 

She was helpful when they discussed food and housing, in fact it was her idea to allow people housing in the citadel and storing the food there for better keeping. Kael wasn’t around much after his return, far too busy readying for another trip to Dalaran, or wherever else he decided to go. 

 

 

Most were unconcerned of their princes’ coming and going, they would ask in passing and for pleasantries. Lor’themar allowed himself to feel important once the people who referred to Kael’thas begun to turn to him. 

 

Lor’themar watched as Rommath slinks inside, looking expectant and annoyed. The regent lord sighs and dismisses his table. 

 

“The prince wishes to see you.” 

 

 

Lor’themar scowls thinly, “What for?” Rommath doesn’t look at him, his air was superior and irritating. Lor’themar wasn’t very high blooded, but his rank in military made him equally important as Rommath. 

 

Even if he didn’t see it. 

 

“My prince is at the Sunwell.” Rommath hisses, leaving without another word. Lor’themar glares at his retreating figure, huffing once before leaving. 

 

 

The ride wasn’t pleasant, Lor’themar became fouler as he came nearer. He had taken a portal to the Isle, but it was still a hard ride on a hawkstrider to get to the Sunwell. Once he passed though the arches he saw his prince standing just out of view of the entrance. His hawk made great sound but Kael barely noticed and did not turn. 

 

The only thing that made him out to be real was the way his hair blew in the soft wind and little else. 

 

 

Lor’themar dismounted and trudged toward him, standing next to him rather than behind. Lor’themar could see this annoyed him, but Lor’themar would not be treated as anything but equal. 

 

The scowl on the side of his face was evident, Lor’themar looked ahead “You asked for me, my prince?” Lor’themar did not like calling him his prince “I have,” he spits, not looking his way. 

 

 

Lor’themar raises a brow, holding his ground. 

 

It took a moment for him to continue, the scowl now ugly and deep across his face. “You have my wife- so I’m told.” 

 

Lor’themar blinks at the swirling mess of the sunwell, “She’s not your wife- so I’m told.” This gets the prince to turn in an abrupt nature, offended surely, but Lor’themar is uninterested. 

 

This time he meets his eye, Lor’themar stood taller than his prince and looked down upon him, scowling harshly. Kael met his glare in kind, lip pulled from his teeth. 

 

“You have become too proud for your station I think.” He threatens, Lor’themar knew he could easily rip the power from him. He would be a lowly ranger again without say or will of his own. 

 

Being that wouldn’t allow him close to his princess. 

 

Lor’themar shuts his eye. Sighing. 

 

“If you are wishing I return her, I will not.” He was tired of mincing words. 

 

 

He pauses, eye in a slit, “You hit her. You will not do it again.” The face of hatred turned to shock and fright, eyes wider than the moon. Lor’themar takes no enjoyment in his obvious win. “I will not allow you to do it again.”

 

 

“Very proud, Theron. Very.” Lor’themar holds his head high. 

 

 

Kael suddenly sneers, looking vicious, “Have it your way Theron. Have my crown and my wife- you must be accustomed to used goods.” Lor’themar wasn’t angered by his jab at him, Lor’themar wasn’t so vain to be insulted by such a weak and untrue statement. 

 

He would not stand for the insult to his princess. 

 

“You haven’t been here long enough to do your duty.” They both knew it to be true, if he had Asch would be gushing about babies or already heavy with his child, but she was not. 

 

 

Kael laughed, “Oh? Have you taken her for your own then? Another man's intended- tell me regent lord did she wail for you? Has she been spoiled on your cock?” Lor’themar went ridged, fists squeezing. He could not strike his prince.

 

Kael rolls his eyes, swatting his hair behind his shoulder “I thought correct, my intended- stupid as she is sees you like the lowborn dog you are.” 

 

Kael eyes him with disgust “Keep the harlot then, I have a war to win.” With that the prince glides away, robes following him in a regal twist. Lor’themar sheaths quietly, how dare he. 

 

Kael’thas Sunstrider has changed in his time in Dalaran- or maybe he was always like this. Lor’themar couldn’t believe he said those things about his princess. Asch was beautiful, noble and kind- not a stupid little girl. How could the prince not see that? 

 

 

Lor’themar shakes his head violently, he saw it. That’s what was important. 

 

 

Lor’themar didn’t return for some time, too distracted by his encounter with the prince to be of any use. He ambled around the streets on his bird before being stopped by a group of elves. They looked to be carrying all they owned in their arms, curiously Lor’themar calls to them.

 

“What’s this?” He asks, watching as the family paused. A little girl pokes her head from behind her mother, smiling “The princess is letting us sleep in the castle!” Lor’themar remembers the discussion, did not believe she would act so quickly.

 

Or with Kael’thas still around. 

 

“Oh?” He says, amused by the wonderment in the young elf. “Yes! She’s letting everyone sleep in the castle!” Lor’themar looks up and begins to see others moving in the direction. “I love the princess!” A boy, as young as the girl says, bolting out behind his father. 

 

Lor’themar chuckles, pausing his mount. A thought came to him. 

 

“Let me help.” 

 

 

Lor’themar wished he could assist the other families in carrying what they had, but his hawk could only hold so much weight. The bird was content with the four baskets and the children so he would push it no further. 

 

 

“Thank you regent lord,” the mother says, almost in tears. Lor’themar smiles, “None is needed.” 

 

“Are you a knight, mister?” The boy perks his attention. Lor’themar snorts, “No little one, I was a farstrider- for a time.” The boy gasps in awe, “I want to be a farstrider! I want to protect the princess like you do!” Lor’themar hums excitedly, “The princess would be lucky to have you.” 

 

 

Asch could be seen from the gates, she was helping people inside and smiling at them, despite what Lor’themar could tell was sorrow in her eyes. 

 

Before he met with her, Lor’themar helped the family stack their things together again.

 

 

Asch was helping everyone inside as he came to her, “My princess,” he calls. Asch stumbles for a moment, confused as she looks over but once she sees him Asch is delighted “Lor’themar!” Politely she excused herself, picking up her dress so she can run to him. 

 

“I see you’ve been busy,” Asch laughs lightly, “Yes, there’s more than enough space for everyone... finding it however is a little harder.” The citadel had many rooms and beds, Asch must have busied herself all day with finding each family a place to sleep. 

 

“The guards can help for a time- come with me.” Asch was hesitant, but took his arm a moment later. The inn wasn’t too far so he begun leading her there. 

 

“Rommath said you met with Kael,” she says, “He wasn’t very happy about allowing the citizens into the citadel.” Lor’themar shakes his head, of course the prince wasn’t. “He didn’t hurt you did he?” Asch shakes her head quickly, “He left soon after- I haven’t seen him since then.” Lor’themar frowns. 

 

“Are you upset?” Asch looks at their feet, eyes clearly sad. “I thought... I just- it was suppose to be different...” as they climb the steps she trembles. 

 

“I thought he would be so happy to come home... see the pillars dressed in white- I...I even asked the seamstress to finish what she could on my dress so I could wear it” Lor’themar noticed the box perched on the bed when they entered the honeymoon suite. 

 

Asch sniffles when she glances at it, “He didn’t even want to see it...” 

 

Lor’themar feels her pain in his chest. 

 

“I do,” he confesses, making her look at him in confusion. “I want to see it- may I see it?” Asch opens her mouth, tears threatening to fall.

 

“O-okay...”

 

 

Lor’themar had seen the dress, but couldn't imagine what it looked like until now. Details were missing and Asch couldn’t properly tie the bow behind her, but it looked transcendent. The heart shaped around her chest snugly pushing all the right parts into place, while the sash meant to be her bow was coloured red, orange and yellow, beautiful and framed her waist. 

 

The bell of the dress had designs in scattered places, vacant but made of shiny silk. Asch fiddles the front of it while Lor’themar swallows dryly.

 

“You’re... youre beautiful,” He sputters, amazed. Asch blinks her tears away, blushing crimson. “It.. it’s not finished-“ “it doesn’t need to be” Lor’themar dares to step closer, knowing full well it was a bad idea. 

 

“It’s perfect- so perfect you’re...” He loses his thought when she looks up at him, Lor’themar wets his lips. “Perfect....” he mutters before pulling her against him, Asch goes willingly, grabbing into his arms, even tilting her head up to meet his kiss. 

 

It was needy, completely full of love and want, and Lor’themar wanted so much more. 

 

The dress was silky soft and Lor’themar feels bad his hands were ruining it, Asch only came closer when he tugged on the fabric however. Much like the first time they part and share breath, looking at each other with desire and affection. 

 

“Marry me,” he suddenly blurts, breathless and brainless. Asch’s eyes widen with a start, Lor’themar screwed his mouth shut, about to take it back. 

 

But then. 

 

“Yes!” She gasps the word, Lor’themar is too stunned to move. 

Notes:

EDITED ON
February 22, 2019

Chapter 97: Wrathion/Anduin dabbles 2

Summary:

Wrathion/original female character
Anduin Wrynn/Original female character

Chapter Text

Wrathion has two very important events in his life. The first was his birth, which now would be celebrated and the meeting of seasons. 

 

 

Which he had reason to go too now. Two reasons. Asch agreed immediately, Anduin needed convincing. How would they get there? Wrathion would portal them, of course Anduin didn’t know he could do that, but it wasn’t his only concern. What if Kalecgos was there? What if he let the secret slip? 

 

What if they saw Jaina?

 

Wrathion said Kalec would not say anything, black dragons were private and it was considered taboo for anyone to talk about their mates. Jaina wouldn’t be there because even the master of magic, her lover hadn’t seen her. Which caused a whole other conversation to happen. Where was Jaina? Of course the mage didn’t agree with him about the Horde in Dalaran and left in a flash and puff, but where she went. Wrathion didn’t know. That lead him to worry and fret, she was still his aunt and treasured family member. 

 

Wrathion could do nothing to ease his suffering. So he used Asch. 

 

“Does he like it?” Wrathion whispers behind her, licking the shell of her ear. Asch trembles, tugging gently at the blanket around Anduin, “I.. I don’t know- I’ve never-“ Wrathion gasps as if she committed an offence, “not once?” He peers over her shoulder, squinting at the slumbering king. “Hmm...” he mumbles as she shakes her head, “on with it then, lets see shall we?” Asch carefully pulled his bottoms away, unveiling the pink cock. Wrathion watched it twitch as she took it. 

 

“Open your mouth,” he instructs, pulling up her night dress, “make him hard, with your tongue.” Asch was good at listening, Wrathion liked that very much. Asch whines as his fingers find her wet opening, distracting her. “Put it in your mouth, slowly- good girl.” His voice did things to her, this he knew by the shiver and clintching. Wrathion used that to his advantage. Asch began a rhythm, Wrathion praises her as he thrusts his fingers inside. 

 

“Can you take more- beautiful girl,” Wrathion purrs as he watches her engulf the pinkish cock completely. “Do you want my cock?” He coos the filthy words, curling his fingers, “do you want your mate?” Asch’s legs shake, her moans are throaty and eager. “Of course you do, be good and suck your husbands cock-“ Asch pushes her bottom into his hold, going at her task with new vigor. 

 

Anduin twitches, growling in his sleep. 

 

Wrathion slides himself inside her heat, hissing deeply. 

 

The sudden weight of Wrathion pushing her forward must have triggered something between Asch and Anduin because in that moment he gasps awake. A straggled noise while Asch makes a faintly stuffed, distressed noise. “A-Asch?!” He chokes, thrashing around, Wrathion chuckles, smirking as Asch coughs. “Wrathion!” Wrathion chuckles, humping her forward into Anduin’s lap. 

 

“Good morning,” he purrs, leaning forward. “Did you sleep well?” Anduin scowls, clearly baffled. Asch wheezes, shaking against his bare thighs, “Asch!” Anduin pulls her up, watching her swallow thickly, eyes bloodshot and full of tears. 

 

“Are you ok-“ Asch pushes forward, kissing his lips sloppily. Wrathion coos delighted, “isn’t she sweet?” Wrathion punches his hips, making her break away from Anduin and moan in his face. 

 

“Oh..!” Asch’s eyes roll back, her hands clutch at Anduin’s chest, “she wanted to make you feel better about today- do you?” Wrathion nuzzles her throat, gazing up at the king with his bloody eyes. Anduin gulps, speechless. The king jumps as his cock is grabbed. Wrathion’s has his hand over Asch’s, tugging his cock to life in her soft grasp. 

 

“I think she wants your cock- do you want your husbands cock?” Asch whines loudly, nodding furiously. Wrathion coos, “go on beautiful.” Anduin almost helplessly watches his wife climb into his lap, taking his cock easily. They both moan as he fills her. Wrathion piles behind her, sucking harsh marks into her neck. His hands brace her hips, using the leverage to pull and drop her into his thighs. 

 

“Oh- Oh.... Anduin-!” She paws at his hair, tangling her fingers and clawing at his skull. “Har-harder!” Anduin pushes his hips up into  her, the harsh force making her wail and arch deeply.  

 

“I-I won’t...” Anduin gasps, tensing. Wrathion purrs, spending himself against her backside. Asch’s head tips back, kissing Wrathion before sagging into Anduin. 

 

 

 

Asch and Anduin were nervous, it was easy to tell. Wrathion was right by their side, promising it wasn’t as intimidating as it seemed. Anduin admitted he had hardly been around dragons and Asch had never. 

 

“Come now,” he purrs, petting Asch’s back “I’ll be right beside you, as well Anduin.” Asch was not adjusting as easily as her husband was. “Wrathion this... outfit is a demeaning...” Wrathion grins, “I wouldn’t say that... more-“ he pauses thinking of the word. 

 

“Expensive!” Adhcgive him a flat look and toys with the skirt again. 

 

Black dragons were known for expensive, grand things. Anduin disagreed almost before he asked, which Wrathion allowed because Anduin was Asch’s mate. Not his. 

 

Asch, while she was embarrassed by it all, agreed, albeit pensively. What Wrathion gave her to wear was equally beautiful and expensive. Wrathion had a heart for exotic, strange looking things and dressed her in the style much like he would dress himself. 

 

 

Around her face was a silky black bejeweled veil, strung with gold chips and rubies. Her chest was scantly covered by a similarly coloured silk, gold rings dangled around the slopes of her breasts and a long golden chain hung around her bare waist. Wrathion circles his palm across her back, admiring her flat belly and flushed shoulders.

 

“Its- it’s too loose!” She harps, pulling at the loose silky pants, they puffed around her calves and tied at her ankles. The belt was gold and red silks, tied at her hip. The shoes her simple slip ons, a pointed toe with gold three embroidered a flowery design. 

 

“You look delicious,” Wrathion coos, getting right behind her “doesn’t she Anduin?” The king swallows, nodding dumbly “beautiful, darling.” Asch fiddles with her bangles, unconvinced. 

 

 

Wrathion lets it be for now, opening the portal to the temple, ushering her through, allowing Anduin to go before him. It didn’t surprise him how extravagent the temple appeared, every meeting of the seasons was a grand affair and Alexstraza was a women of celebration. 

 

Both his paramours were stopped in shock, wideryes looking at all the decorations and luxuries around them.

 

The attendant was the first to greet them, welcoming them with a hand drawn to the inner sanctum. Wrathion coos and takes Asch by the waist, Anduin trailing behind. 

 

Dragons from different flights coo and chirp at Asch, congratulating Wrathion as they pass. Asch looked visibly uncomfortable with it all and Wrathion kisses her temple, whispering “just a little longer than I will take you home.” Asch’s shoulders tense at his words, “home or Stormwind?” Wrathion grins, mushing her hair with his cheek “home darling girl, promise!” 

 

Home was a deep, hidden cave on the outskirts Stormwind on the open sea, surrounded by mountains and dense trees. It was majorly populated by colourful parrots and smaller critters, the Alliance held it as a flagged island for wildlife and found no use in it because of the mountain that covered almost the entire space. Wrathion created a lair out of it and furnished it lavishly, as soon as Asch created a bond with him Wrathion brought them there every chance they had. 

 

Asch taken too it immediately and both Anduin and Asch begin to refer to it as home. 

 

 

Nozdormu, the leader of the bronze flight caught them as Wrathion circled the party, delighted by them “Wrathion- Queen Asch,” he bows, “king Anduin!” Wrathion inclines his head, smiling gently “these are your mates?” The lord of time sounded surprised “how wonderful!” Asch tensed in Wrathion’s side, obviously nervous “how is yours my lord?” Nozdormu was stoic near most of the time, but like most he was comfortable around his own kind and eagerly jumped at the chance to talk about his own mate. 

 

“Babies?” Asch interjects, Nozdormu hums “yes we think four at least!” Asch recoils, sinking into Wrathion more “four? At least?” Nozdormu chortles “we hope for many more of course- but one can only hope.” Wrathion says a little, gritting his teeth. 

 

He didn’t tell Asch that at minimum dragons could have four children. 

 

At least. 

 

“Are you expecting?” Anduin flintches, “we aren’t... or- we....” Nozdormu gestured for him to stop “I understand. There are politics involved.” A pained smile “regardless I have all the hope in the world for you.” 

 

 

Wrathion knew as the time lord left that he was in trouble. 

 

“Home. Now.” 

 

So much trouble. 

Chapter 98: Lor’themar/Arthas dabbles 9

Summary:

Lor’themar/Original female character

So I just wanted to address some stuff with you readers.

First of all I know lots of people really like Garrosh and that’s great, but you guys are hounding me about this and it’s honestly super rude you’re commenting about him on chapters that have nothing to do with him. I really appreciate the comments, so much in fact I wasn’t going to even say anything.

Second, it’s a story dump, I’ll write what I want because it’s mine. If you want to see something with a character you write it.

Third and last, I’d said I would consider writing something, not that I would do it. This isn’t a request story. Find one that is.

Thank you so very much for loving my story, commenting and bookmarking it. I can’t say how much it means to me.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

 

Lor’themar felt a headache behind his eyes, it thrummed against his damaged eye. Another attack, so many lost. 

 

 

Looking at the map littered with flags and troops and boats made his head hurt. Lor’themar touches just below his eye, feeling the raw scar that still needed time to heal, so strange not to see anything anymore. To have half his vision lost, not even shapes or colour or static come through the darkness. 

 

And it hurt, he could feel it but not see through it. When Lor’themar closed his eyes he could feel the cut, he could feel it move in time with his other eye, follow direction his gaze went but never show him anything. 

 

Lor’themar learnt to turn, adapted. 

 

Even without hiding his grotesque injury people did not adapt with him. Still they would stand on the side where he could not see them, show important things to an eye that could not read. Some had the decency to be embarrassed when he went around to their other side, others just looked at him with disgust. 

 

His eye, though troubling, was not a concern as of now. 

 

Whispers and gossip filled every room he entered. The people didn’t know exactly what was going on but knew the prince, the princess and regent lord were all connected in some dalliance or another. Lor’themar supposes they were partly right, considering she was now engaged to both of them. 

 

 

In a perfect world they would already be married now, but the world was not and his city was burning along with its people. 

 

 

Halduron Brightwing, his most trusted second in command flounced in with his usual swagger and smugness. Lor’themar just knew this wouldn’t be good. 

 

“So I hear talk of threesomes and secret bastards.” Leave it to Hal to make an entrance always grand. 

 

“Whose?” Lor’themar asks, “Yours?” Hal chuckles good-naturedly “People have become bored of my affairs, yours however...” This makes him groan. Among his titles Hal was master of whispers, always somehow learning of all ongoings and secrets around the capital. 

 

“I didn’t think cocks and blondes were your type,” this earns him a glare, half of one at least. “I’m hearing of you and the princess. That isn’t true now, is it?” 

 

 

Lor’themar wouldn’t lie to his friend, but didn’t want to spill all his truths at once “What have you heard?” Hal smiles as if he’s won a prize, “That you’ve deflowered our princess and spat in the face of our soon-to-be king.” Lor’themar muses, tilting his head “Half true.” 

 

Hal grins, “Which half?”  

 

 

Lor’themar decided to dispel the whispers “I haven’t taken the princess, but I’m not giving her back to Kael.” Hal snorts, “That is the very definition of taking- but I hear your meaning. I've also heard of the prince being... unkind to her... care to explain this?” 

 

Lor’themar wasn’t sure he should say, but Hal of all people would understand best. “He’s... raised his hand to her,” at this Hal grimaces, rightly so. “Far less exciting than secret bastards and sex, no?” This did not raise the scowl from his friends face. 

 

 

“I asked her to marry me and she said yes.” 

 

“I want to kill him myself.” Violent.

 

“I do too.” Reassuring. 

 

 

“No one can know that Hal.” Lor’themar warns, watching no change in his face, “Hal.” The ranger shakes his head angrily, “He hit her.” Lor’themar had never heard his voice so choked and dark. “He hit our princess!” Something had snapped in the ranger, “He’s our crowned prince.” Hal rages.

 

 

Things clatter off the table and Lor’themar headache throbs harder “That does not give him leave to hit women!” Lor’themar clutches his head, breathing harshly. He was about to snap at his long time friend just as the door swung open.

 

“Lo!” Hal gasps, “My princess!” The ranger kneeled so quickly his knees made a resounding bang through the room. Lor’themar, despite his headache gets up with a sway and reaches to kiss her cheek.

 

“Hello darling,” he mutters tiredly, Asch opens her mouth, cheeks flushed but then frowns at him. “Are you alright?” She whispers, delicately touching his face, “You’re burning up-" Without leave Asch pulls him to the bed, making him sit.

 

“Lord Brightwing please get ice!” She hasilty insists, not even a moment later Hal is flying out the door, rage completely gone from him.

 

“My poor darling,” she coos so softly, pulling his hair free of its ridged tie, bringing his face to her chest. Lor’themar sighs, the feeling of her heart beating calms him, grounds his aching head. Asch’s hands run carefully through his loose hair, quietly humming a song, Lor’themar is grateful and buried his face between her breasts, pressing his nose firmly against hard bone between them. 

 

 

The dress she wore tickled his face, it’s scratchy almost rough material felt strange against his closed eyes, but welcome all the same. The colour was red, a deep, bloody red and Lor’themar almost felt pompous enough to think she was trying to match his armour. 

 

Lor’themar inhaled deeply, sucking in fabric of her dress, she smelt so wonderful, like a meadow of wildflowers and a breeze. Lor’themar struggles to bring his arms around her, clutching at her hips with failing fingers. How did he manage this? 

 

 

Against all the odds and barricades what he wanted was standing over him, heart beating in his wilting ears and scent invading his tired lungs. 

 

Lor’themar didn’t even hear Hal enter again or the sound of the ice rattling in the bag, only the cold wet press shook him from his dizzy dream. Lor’themar lets a groan pass his chapped lips, shivering as freezing droplets rolled down his temple. 

 

 

Asch giggles softly, a beautiful sound. Hal snorts, watching his lord regent melt like a puddle. Lor’themar amuses the idea he must look rather silly, hair messy and ears drooping, face pressed into his princess’ breast like a child. 

 

The ache in his head begun to soften and he gave no time in caring about his appearance save a moment, it was working. 

 

 

Lor’themar’s ears twitch of their own accord as he feels her hands let the bag go, it sags over his head but does not slide off, frowning slightly he wonders what she’s doing, that is until gentle fingers meet at the back of his neck. 

 

Lor’themar moans again, sagging forward into her embrace as her fingers begin to knead the bones supporting his head, his hands renew their clutching and desperately clings to her hip bones. 

 

Asch grins at his reaction, watching pink ears go limp and wide, it looked so precious, her heart squeezed. Lor’themar was so open, so affectionate. 

 

Why couldn’t Kael love her like this?” 

 

 

Why couldn’t he take comfort in her like this? While her heart was soaring it was also drowning. Asch loved Kael for so long, but Lor’themar had loved her and Kael, Kael.

 

Kael had no love for anyone. 

 

Asch felt terrible, the man who loved her- wanted to marry her was right here, alive and taking comfort in her arms and yet she was thinking about the prince who hit her. 

 

 

When Lor’themar found out Asch tried to remember all the times Kael raised his hand to her, it was only a handful, a handful too much if Theron was concerned. Asch didn’t remember why, doesn’t even remember the very last time. 

 

 

Asch is jostled out of her thought when she heard the ice bag thump into the bed, looking down she sees his droopy smile and soft eyes. Lor’themar’s hair was soaking. 

 

Lor’themar was making vague purring sounds with his rich and impossible voice, “Thank you” he rumbles, Asch’s eyes flutter. Kael never made her feel like this. 

 

“B-better?” Asch curses herself for stuttering, Lor’themar doesn’t seem to notice it. Kael would have, called her a simpering fool. 

 

All Lor’themar says is: “I love you.” 

 

Asch’s mouth twists open, but no sound escapes her, Lor’themar smiles but there is pain in his eyes “It’s alright. You don’t have to say it yet.” He knew she still loved Kael. 

 

Asch felt a terrible churn in her stomach, lips and teeth snapping together in an instant. “I-I...” She sputters, Lor’themar gazes up at her with dreary eyes. 

 

She tries again. 

 

“I... I love you Lo.” Relief. Asch felt so relieved. “I love you,” she says again, this time so sure and so happy. “I love you so much!” Lor’themar pulls her closer, bringing her against him. Asch could feel his heart beating and his lungs expelling air, his muscles rippling and shoulders tensing. 

 

 

“Hal,” Lor’themar says in a deep, confident voice knowing his friend was still lingering. “Y-yes, lord regent?” Lor’themar grins, royalty intimidated his friend.

 

“Find me the high priest,” Asch tilts her head, what could he want the high priest for? Suddenly it hit her and Lor’themar laughs brightly. “We’re getting married now.” 

 

 

 

Notes:

EDITED ON
February 22, 2019

Chapter 99: Koltira dabbles 1

Summary:

Koltira Deathweaver/original female character
Chapter 99!!!!!

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Koltira eyes the cart with distain, four terrified creatures huddled together, they likely didn’t know each other but the fear of the unknown made them flock together like frightened caged birds. 

 

 

All of them were women, young and plump faced. Two of them were humans, a red head and a blonde. Another was a Troll, green haired and purple in the face, the last was an elf.

 

Koltira looked at her curiously, she was his kind. A high elf, not yet tainted by fel. It had been a very long time since he’d seen a living Quel’dorei. 

 

Her hair was piled in a loose bun, practically falling out like a dune of snow in a tree. Her eyes were glowing the beautiful blue that all his once people were blessed with. Most of her parts were thinner and smaller than those around her, where the humans were stocky she was thin. 

 

Koltira watches her cradle the Troll, amused at how easily she sought comfort in the opposite faction. 

 

Her face was cold with tears frozen on her cheeks, the shiver in her little body couldn’t be held back end by the warmth her companions were providing. What little they wore did nothing to save them from Icecrowns terrible chill. Frost permeated in every crack. 

 

She was pale, almost as pale as he was, Koltira assumed it wasn’t natural. The scraps of cloth barely hid her chest, her whole back was exposed to the haunting eyes of those all around. 

 

What their purpose was here Koltira didn’t rightly know, but he could guess for amusement or even reanimation. He cared little what would be done and simply turned, returning to his previous business. 

 

 

Arthas had busied them with grunt work, Koltira was forced to assist the mindless ghouls and abominations with carrying crates of runed weapons into the inner sanctum for testing later, as well as tempered armour and bars of Saronite. 

 

Around him he could see Darion Mograine pushing his load, as well as Thalanor, having trouble stacking the boxes filled with no doubt heavily items. Koltira paid them no mind and hauled his boxes to their shelves, huffing frost as he finishes. 

 

Lumbered steps came booming from the grand hall, Koltira glances toward the impressive metal echos and is surprised to find Salanar lazily striding toward him.

 

“Horseman.” Koltira greets him with a bob of his head, watching the green eyes turn to slits. “Death knight.” A moment passes before Salanar speaks again. “Boring work,” he spits, disgusting as other knights lug passed, “Prized killers moving furniture.” Salanar was a proud man, hard to please and even harder to converse with. Why he had chosen to bother speaking at all to Koltira was a wonder. 

 

 

“What needs to be done must be done,” Koltira shrugs, frowning at the way Salanar sticks his nose up. “I suppose. How is Bloodmist?” Salanar had given each death knight their mount, equipping them with only the finest tempered beasts. The man took great pride in his duties and his stables. Koltira supposed he should, each deathcharger was finely tuned to its rider and exceptionally grand. 

 

“He is well.” Salanar hums, pleased. Koltira shifts on his feet, “What draws your purpose here?” Loading bays and shipments weren’t exactly an interest of Salanar’s. “Ah, you will see in a moment,” Salanar said with a cruel smile. Watching his gaze Koltira follows it, shocked at what he found.

 

Wheeled in by two hulking brutes was another cage, bigger than the last he saw but still filled with women of all like and kind. A few humans, Kal'dorei, and Orcs. All relatively frightened and naked.

 

“What...?” Koltira mutters, head tilted and hair falling down his shoulder. Salanar simply chuckles “I do not just acquire horses to mount.” Koltira’s mouth falls open, “what.”

Salanar looks rather amused than annoyed and speaks again, slinking toward the cage with interest “It was suppose to be a gift you see,” he says musing over the girls as if they were his prized steeds, “Arthas wishes to reward his knights for their devoted service and had me obtain pretty toys for you all to amuse yourselves with.” 

 

All the girls flinch away from his questing hands, crying with new vigour. Salanar coos dangerously at the cowering girls before laughing nastily. “I’ve already found you yours, I think she will suit your interests perfectly.” He claims with a triumphant grin, “Very pretty, very little. You elves like that- do you not?” He did not wait for Koltira to answer, “Ah, look at this one,” one of his gloved hands reaches inside the cage, grabbing a hold of one of the human girls, one of black hair and brown eyes. “This one is for Thassarian. Isn’t she stunning?”

 

The girl was desperately trying to claw at his fingers, trying to pry them off her arm with no success, the other girls crawled away from her to another empty side of the cage. Koltira blinks at them, stunned he asks, “Found mine...?” Salanar releases her, a sickening thud shakes the walls as she drops back down, immediately crowd her again. 

 

“Yes...?” He hisses it out both as a question and an answer. “When-? Why?” Salanar looks at him dully, “Today of course, and as I’ve said it is a gift.” Koltira runs a hand through his hair, stress lines evident on his face, “And where is she?” At this the horsemen tuts playfully, “That would ruin the surprise- you will see her soon...” Suddenly Salanar leans in, whispering “After the day is finished Arthas was going to call a meeting.” As if he felt he was going to be caught, Salanar’s eyes dart left and right, toward all the uncaring ghouls and Knights doing busy labor. 

 

“When?” Koltira stresses, becoming annoyed. Salanar frowns, considering, “Before sun down. I’m not to tell you this but your rewards will be in your rooms as soon as the meeting is concluded- no sooner!” Koltira, like most his kind could feel his humanity tugging at the back of his mind and was quite bothered by the fact he called them rewards. 

 

Salanar leans a little closer, smiling devilishly “they are also virgins. Every one of them. Now- say nothing and shoo. I have work to be done, as do you.” 

 

 

Half way through the day, Arthas in fact called a meeting before nightfall. Most looked unconcerned by it, like it would be any normal meeting. Koltira however felt his own skin prickling in anticipation. He kept thinking another knight would come up to him and jeer about the girls, laugh about what they would do, but no one seemed any wiser. It was putting him on edge. 

 

None of them even questioned why hordes of unfortunate girls were being wheeled in eight or more at a time. Salanar saw him a few times after and gave him a knowing look, and Koltira seized up every time and swallowed hard. How were none of them interested? Why didn’t they question the horsemaster? 

 

How did no one notice where they were being taken? Where was he even putting them? Was something being done to them? So many questions flew in his mind and he couldn’t bare the wait much longer. 

 

 

It was becoming obvious, so much in fact Thalanor was looking at him funny, “What is this pacing, Deathweaver?” Biting his lip Koltira ignores him, the other elf snorts in disdain, muttering, “It’s only a meeting.” Most around him figured and guessed it was simply about the supply run today, thinking Arthas was interested in whether or not they finished their duties. Koltira shakes his head, hair flying. This was awful. 

 

 

When the ushers opened the doors Koltira felt everything. The rush in his head the chill in the room, the rotting smell of the ghouls and abominations at every corner of the room. 

 

The hall was as decrepit as the occupants, the tatters of banners of a long forgotten house, old, beaten tables reaching each end of the room in a long train. Old dusty chairs that protested as the knights sat, and at the end of the room, at the head table reserved for royal parties was Arthas.

 

 

He wore no helm and the smugness of his grin reached all the way to the other end where Koltira was sitting. His cool lichfire filled eyes scanned over all of them as if they were grand prizes and precious things to him. Koltira would always hate that they were in fact trophies of his ego. Humanity and oddity stripped from them, the only unique outliers they still had were their names from past lives. 

 

 

Some didn’t even have that. 

 

 

“My knights,” Arthas’ terrible voice coos, like a fowl mother’s caress. Koltira cringes at the echo. “You have pleased me,” Frostmourne glints under the candle light, shining gorgeous blue spots around the room. “And I’ve seen fit to reward you.” Koltira watches many of them sat to attention, eagerly listening now. 

 

“Salanar has acquired these gifts, and your gratitude should be given to him for the trouble.” He leans back, despite telling them all Salanar was the one to praise, Arthas was soaking it all in. 

 

The knights watch him stand up, frost exploding around his legs, “Go. Enjoy your gifts until I call next.” So many shot up from their seats, Koltira was bumped and shoved as many rushed out. 

 

 

They didn’t even know what they were running too. 

 

They might have ran faster if they had. 

 

 

Koltira was the last out, but like most he was fast, moving up steps and passing through halls just to get to his private quarters, but he didn’t dare open the door. At first he stood, then he listened. There was no sound from the other side and Koltira almost believed that maybe there was no girl. 

 

 

But as he opened his door what he saw made his stomach twist.

 

Upon his bed, shaking from the cold and still from fear was the elf he saw in the cage hours before. 

 

The utter horror in her eyes was astonishing.

 

 

The sheets she desperately tried to hide under weren’t very thick, Koltira never needed anything more then thin linen, he could easily see her perky nipples pebbling and the line of her hips. Her lips were trembling and her eyes were leaking soundlessly, Koltira blinks and she flinches. 

 

 

He sighs and she shakes. 

 

Koltira closes his eyes for a moment then looks down at the sash hanging loosely around his waist, it was an old scrap of cloth, the flag of his people worn away from age. Still he takes the end and rips a sizable portion before trudging toward the girl.

 

“Here,” He says as soft as he can in the tongue of their people, she doesn’t move to take it but he waits, weighing his options. He couldn’t send her away, either she would be caught by another death knight or die in the frozen waste. As if it was an option to begin with. Koltira didn’t even know where Salanar plucked her from. 

 

Salanar was right however, she was very pretty and very little. 

 

 

Koltira was shocked when shaky fingers touched his to get the cloth, but she didn’t dare look at him in the eyes. He watched her wipe away the tears and clean her face. 

 

“Stay here,” he mutters, walking out of his room. He had decided it was cruel to watch her shake from the cold. 

 

 

 

For an extra measure he locked his door, knowing someone may enter. If she was foolish enough to leave was another question. 

 

It felt wrong as he walked, hearing the beds slamming and obscene noises from under the door. Even from Thassarian’s room he could hear it. Koltira turned his nose up as he banged on the door. Muffled cursing followed slapping feet and when the door swung open with a gust of frozen wind Koltira’s teeth almost chattered.

 

“What in all hells Koltira!” He was oddly flushed and sweating, Koltira snorts in disgust. “Keep it down you fool,” the elf hisses. Beyond Thassarian’s shoulder Koltira could see the black hair girl from earlier, sweating and panting. 

 

“Why are you here?!” The human snarls, “Shouldn’t you be busy?!” The comment made Koltira a little sick, “Not when she’s freezing- give me a blanket, I know you have thick ones!” Thassarian’s head shakes in confusion “So? Warm her you fool!” Koltira grinds his teeth, “She’s an elf- they get cold easily! Just give me one!” It wasn’t entirely untrue. At least Thassarian didn’t question it. 

 

“I- ugh! Fine you shit.” Koltira promptly looks away when the rest of the girl is bare to him. It only took moments before Thassarian was back and shoving a comforter in his arms “Now begone!” Koltira was more than happy too. 

 

 

The elf in his bed jumped when he returned, constantly on edge again in his presence. Koltira frowns, but he supposed he shouldn’t be taking it personally. After all he assumed she knew why she was there. 

 

“You’re cold,” He says, gesturing to the blanket in his arms, “This will help.” Carefully he places it on the bed, watching her look at them. Koltira huffs, “Take it.” At the command the girl scrambled to grab it, pulling the sides open so she can drape it over herself. 

 

“Better?” He asks after a moment, she gives the faintest of nods. She looked rather amusing, blankets bundled up to her ears, some of the colour was even coming back to her face, though she was still pale as snow.

 

“M-m-master...?” Koltira blinks, not believing his ears “What-.” he frowns “Do not call me that.” She looked horrified “just... Koltira. Yes?” She nods again, clutching the blankets. Koltira scrubs at hand over his face, this would have been easier if he was like his brothers. 

 

“I won’t touch you.” He tells her, scowling. “Is there a place I can send you back? Where is your home?” The girl’s eyes are wide and scared, “Silvermoon m-my lord.” My lord. Koltira sighs. Silvermoon was ravaged by scourge. If he somehow found a way to send her back she would either die or be capture again and sent to someone else who wouldn’t be so kind. 

 

“Anywhere else? At all?” She shakes her head, eyes growing sad “My.. f-family is dead.” What on Azeroth was he going to do. There was no place she could go, no place he could take her without his imprisonment or execution and she couldn’t stay here. 

 

“Have you been fed?” He’d forgotten what eating was like but he knew Salanar wouldn’t have been so kind to the girl. When she shakes her head he wasn’t surprised. There was nothing he could give her here. Again he sighs, scrubbing his face. 

 

 

“Wait here. I will find you something to eat-“ he pauses a moment “and something to wear. Do not let anyone inside and do not leave.” At her nodding Koltira offers a short, tense smile. 

 

What a mess.

Notes:

EDITED 17/JAN/2019

Chapter 100: Illidan dabbles 20

Summary:

Illidan Stormrage/Asch Stormrage

THANK YOU!
Finally chapter 100! And Illidan’s 20th!

Thanks so much for all the support, love and comments it means so much to me!

Here’s to another 100!

Chapter Text

Asch regards her husband with subdued eyes and a caught lip. 

 

For years he’s been her mate, husband and father of her babies. 

 

What he hasn’t been was himself. 

 

 

Of course Illidan was himself but, he wasn’t... all he could be. 

 

Asch watches those powerful muscles contract and ripple, he was assisting another hunter in clearing a cave to make a home of it. Asch was suppose to create a better terrain then hard dirt and stone but she was hardly paying attention to her beloved job. 

 

 

Illidan hadn’t aged in all the years she knew him, sure his mouth had lines of a frown or his eyes has creases now but he was every bit the young man she loved as a girl. Her heart sped up and she watched his ear twitch in interest. 

 

 

Illidan looks over his broad shoulder, right at her. The mother of his children flintches, blinking like a frightened doe. Illidan tilts his head, offering her a handsome smile that made her melt. 

 

The power he had was immeasurable. Asch forgot sometimes what he was. She felt too safe around him to remember he could rip her in two with just a tug of his powerful hands. 

 

 

Illidan flicks his wings and smirks at her before hauling a boulder over his head, going back to his task. “You have that look in your eye. What is in your head beautiful elf?” The hunter Illidan was beside jolts, having never heard such words from his lord before. 

 

It was obvious Illidan wasn’t interested in discretion so Asch offered none when she spoke “you,” she says simply, to her amusement Illidan’s hands slip and drop the hunk of stone in his hands. The hunter hurries away, eyes wide and embarrassed.

 

 

In truth she wasn’t just thinking about him, she was thinking all the way back to the time she had lead him on her little chase. Illidan had taken her until she was nothing but a mess and melted bones. It was the only time she had ever witnessed him so uninhibited.

 

Well

 

The only other time she had seen it. The first was atop the Nighthold, a shadowed soul and belting for murder. Asch had never been so scared before, he screamed his famous words and set her bones on fire. The demon within they had called it, the absolute rage and passion of his other half. 

 

Asch had never seen his demon until then, never imagined there was more inside of Illidan, but she had been a little girl then, a mother of no one and loveless. 

 

“Is that so?” He comments, a curious note in his voice. Asch shies a little at his inquiry, gnawing at her lip again. Illidan had been married to her long enough too know she was nervous. It only interested him further, “what’s that face?” He coos, intent in his smouldering voice. The rocks sit forgotten as does the grass she was half focused on.

 

 

 

His claws come to her face, cupping it delicately, lifting her chin so he can better look at her flushed face. “I’ve not seen this face since we were young,” there was a touch of longing, of lust. Illidan and Asch were adventurous in their nights together, there wasn’t much left for Asch to be embarrassed about.

 

“What are you thinking?” He asks again, prodding her to tell him more. Asch didn’t know if she could speak it aloud, what she wanted... it wasn’t something he might agree too, something he many not allow to be spoken of even. 

 

 

“Do... do you remember when we were looking for a home- in Darnassus?” There was a slight pout caught on his lips, a furrow in his brow. “Yes... I do.” A smirk plays at his lips, “I remember fucking you into a mess.” His words were dirty and did their trick, Illidan is surprised by the colour reaching her face, pleasantly so.

 

“Oh,” he coos, knowingly “how devilish darling.” Asch shakes her head vigorously, trying to find her voice.

 

“No- no not...” she sighs holding his hand to her cheek, Illidan patiently waits, wings coming around their space. “What my love? What’s troubling you?” He leans forward, a more innocent look about him.

 

Asch swallows, “that day... you weren’t all of you- were you?” Illidan flinches back a little, blinking his barren eyes, a wondering look. 

 

“And the Nighthold... th-that wasn’t you but.. but it was as well?” Illidan takes a moment to answer, trying to puzzle out her question before she asked it. “Yes little elf, both things are true.” Asch knew there was a very dangerous side to him. 

 

 

“Does it... know of me?” Asch was not well versed in demons, whether or not it was two parts of a hunter or one whole. Illidan scratches his chin, “it does. It is me.” Asch’s heart picks up again and he notices, but says nothing.

 

“Does it love me?” Illidan recoils, standing too his full height, “you are asking dangerous questions my love.” His brow digs deep into his eyes, “why are you asking of this?” 

 

“Does it, Illidan?” She holds her breath in anticipation.

 

“Of course it does.” Asch gasps out a giggle, smiling despite her mates wary look. “Will it hurt me?” Illidan looked obviously uncomfortable with these questions, but answers her anyway “I would not allow such a thing.” She deflates a little, that wasn’t what she wanted, “I know you wouldn’t- but would it?”

 

 

Illidan stands in silence before his mouth twitches in irritation “you want the demon.” Asch’s face erupts in colour, Illidan hisses angrily “that is unwise Asch.” He turns, upset now. Asch reaches for him, hands groping his hard sides, Illidan halts in her grip, even though he could easily escape he does not. 

 

Illidan always made Asch feel powerful like that. 

 

“It may kill you Asch.” There was pain in his beautiful face, a twisted lip and upset eyes, Asch persists “it’s you- you would never hurt me!” Illidan huffs “it is unwise to let a beast from its cage.” Asch pouts trying to think, immediately coming to an idea.

 

“What if we make a bigger cage?” Illidan looked ready to deny her again, but the way his hands were clinging to her waist now in desperation, the way his eyes went wild at the idea. Asch knew her husband. 

 

And now she would know all of her husband.

 

 

It took him almost a week to decide whether or not he would allow it, Asch saw him play with magic runes in their bedroom, ones she knew were binding spells. There was little she knew about mages and their craft but she knew what arcane bindings were because of Khadgar.

 

Asch couldn’t help but be excited. 

 

After the fifth day of waiting she found him with his hands against the wall of their quarters, speaking in tongues she never heard before, from his hands pulsed a wave of green energy, along with purple and blue. The room itself felt no different to her, but Illidan was sweating, straining against the magic. 

 

Once his words were finished, she spoke “yes?” Illidan’s ears perk up and he turns his head, “yes.” 

 

 

Asch squeaks. 

 

 

“Not tonight,” he huffs, “send the little ones to my brother.” 

 

 

Asch was not a very good liar and Malfurion knew it too, her excuse was poor but he took her babies without much question. Edan was less confused about what his parents wished to do and promptly said he would be with Atam. Kair was still innocent enough she did not pry and took her little brother Tadeas right into the temple where Tyrande was. 

 

 

Asch’s hands were shaking when she returned home, her whole being vibrates with excitement, Illidan was sitting on the bed, looking up at her expectantly “are you sure?” He asks once more. Asch nods quickly, taking his face in her soft hands “I’m very sure.” His blindfold was gone and his weapons were resting against the magic enforced wall. 

 

Illidan closes his blazing eyes and sighs deeply, “I love you little elf.” Asch shakes, “I love you Illidan.”

 

 

Asch wasn’t sure what she was waiting for, she had never seen something quite like this. What was she suppose too expect? Asch watches his face, she waits for what seems like forever when suddenly his eyes snap open and his whole body was consumed in black. 

 

A deep, dangerous chuckle bubbles from his chest, eyes wild and looking right at her. Suddenly she felt like a lamb in a lions den. 

 

 

His lips part and his teeth, already so dangerous, glint in the candle light.  

 

His claws curl into her dress, reducing it to shreds where they trailed up her leg, Asch gasps loudly, drawing his eyes to her face again. 

 

Are you scared?” Asch shivered violently in his hands, shocked at the sound of his voice. 

 

 

His knuckle reaches between her breasts, soft and gentle despite its blackish apperence “your heart it pounding in my ears,” he muses with a dangerous laugh, licking his sharp teeth. 

 

“Illidan-?” She manages to choke out, his eyes catch hers, “do you want me to be?” Her breath catches and his head tilts, “you didn’t ask for me because you wanted him.” 

 

 

He carries her higher in his lap, pulling her dress from her thighs, Asch can feel the threads of her wrecked gown. “You asked for me because you want to be fucked into the floor.” Asch gasps quietly, feeling his hands dig into her back, perking the skin with the knife endings of his nails “how long has it been wife?” He bit the word like delicious poison. 

 

“How long have you thought of bending over for a demon?” He laughs nastily, claws dragging down her flesh making blood trails “I will open every hole you have and you will obey me.” 

 

 

Asch whimpers, watching him lick the blood from his dark fingers, “get on your knees.” 

 

 

Asch slid off his body like rain down a window. It almost hurt when her knees hit the floor, Illidan hums, pleased. “Your rightful place,” He comments, rubbing sharp fingers through her hair pulling out flowers and petals. “I can almost picture it now,” His voice was far away, imagining something Asch could not. 

 

“You’d look delightful at my feet at the temple- why didn’t I bring you?” His petting makes her whimper and thighs shake “a mouth on my cock any moment I wished.” His other hand pulls her lips apart, finger pressing into her tongue as he muses. 

 

“My hunters would watch their lords whore fill her mouth with my cock and swallow my seed.” Asch didn’t like the idea, but felt hot at his words, Illidan can see it too and laughed darkly. He releases her mouth and leans away, “go on pet,” he commands in a tone that allows no argument. Asch quivers between his open legs and quickly pulling his belt from it loops, pulling his leathers down until his cock sprang from its confines.

 

It remained much unchanged save the shadowy colour it now had like the rest of her husband. Illidan snarls lowly, “wife.” Asch leans forward, pulling him into her mouth. Illidan grabs her head and forces her down, hissing as she chokes. Asch’s eyes blink tears away as his cock slams down her throat, coughing around him unable to breathe. 

 

 

His laugh is hellish and terrible like a belting volcano spewing fire. His hand has a vice on the back of her head and without a second more he brings her off him before slamming her back, forcing a brutal pace. “Look at my beautiful wife,” he coos, “choking on my cock.” Asch grips at his thighs, hands slipping as he enjoys her mouth. 

 

 

Asch gags around him, spit flies out of the sides of her mouth and Illidan smirks nastily “am I too much for you pretty girl?” Asch’s heart flutters at his nicknames, but the feeling is lost when his cock strikes down her throat again, barely able to take a breath before he’s forcing her head into a savage rhythm.

 

Her throat starts feeling raw and ripped open as he snarls, looking down at her with mounting interest. Despite being his demon Asch could tell he would finish soon, his cock pulses angirly inside her throat. 

 

Illidan is snarling like a wild animal above her, rattling noises that sound like rabid dogs and terrible beasts of Fel. She never believed the sound would arouse her as it had. 

 

Asch could feel her thighs seeping with wetness, her cunt clinching at nothing while her mate savaged her throat. Asch whines around his cock, staring up at him with puffy red eyes, leaking tears. 

 

Illidan yanks her head down, forcing his whole cock inside her mouth, spilling straight down her throat. Asch flinches, freezing suddenly as he forced her to swallow his seed. It filled her neck and spilled around the gaps of her petal shaped mouth, dribbling like spit. 

 

 

“Swallow it all,” he barks, voice spent from pleasure. Asch frantically breathes through her nose, willing herself to gulp down the hard lump, throat bobbing around his impressive cock. Asch can feel it slither down her into her belly, set like a hard weight of lead as he lifts her off his cock. 

 

Asch is still struggling to breathe as he licks at the dribble trailing down her neck, “such a good girl,” he praises between long licks, Asch is dizzy, breathing out whimpers and whines while her throat burns. 

 

 

Illidan ponders visibly as he cleans her sweat and spit, humming dangerous and low, “you did so good pretty pet, I think I’ll reward you.” Asch feels her back hit the bed, she tries to get up but Illidan doesn’t allow her, with a firm hand he keeps her pressed into the sheets. Asch hisses as the blankets cut into her raw skin, maybe his nails made more then shallow nicks. 

 

“Spread your legs,” Illidan demands, petting her soft, flat tummy with obvious care. Asch does as she’s told, bending them up and open until he hums in satisfaction. Illidan leans over knocking her knees further apart with his broad horns. His knuckle runs right through her sopping lips, smirking as an eager shiver passes over her whole body. 

 

“Even after four of my spawn your cunt is still so little.” His words make her squirm but he keeps her still “still tight no matter how many times I open you with my cock. You were born perfect just for me.” His teeth nip at her exposed thigh, creating a little red mark “mine.” Illidan snaps viciously. 

 

 

Asch yelps as his pointed teeth bite into her sensitive skin, marking it with a new bruise and half moon cuts. He does it again to her other thigh, but lovingly licks the blood away as if he was apologizing. Illidan was always nice about markings, as a half demon and Druid they felt right in showing their claim on the other. 

 

Asch thinks now if she tried such a thing he would punish her. 

 

On the outside of her thighs his nails edge down her legs, rivets of blood well up but it doesn’t hurt, this time it was too shallow to hurt, unlike her back. 

 

Illidan heaves a great breath, hot air rushes over her core and makes her arch and squirm, Illidan pays no mind to what she really wants and continues abusing her inner thighs. Each time his mouth gets close, but doesn’t touch her. Asch belts out a frustrated whine at his antics, to which he only chuckles at. 

 

 

“You’re soaking,” He comments, making a show of sniffling the air, a show of smugness about him that was all too much like her husband. Asch’s heart flutters fondly. Still Illidan. 

 

 

His chuckle is nothing like himself however and he pulls away, his hands are on her knees and he looks in thought before a wicked grin erupts in his darken, handsome features. 

 

“Up,” He says, watching her. Asch whines, shaking her head “hurts.” There’s a scowl soon after she says it and regret as well. 

 

Up.” Asch clambers at the harsh bitten word, nervous now at his tone. Illidan has her in his lap, regarding her closely. “You would do well to obey.” There’s a breath shared between them, to Asch it’s heavy and scary, “y-yes,” she sputters.

 

 

“Yes what?” Commanding.

 

“Yes my l-lord!” Timid

 

 

Illidan purrs, the sound is so deep and so gratifying Asch can feel herself gush wetness at the noise. His knuckle once again slides between her folds, carrying her juices with it. Shame blooms on her face when Illidan brings it into the light, holding it in front of her lips. “Open.” She does as she told. 

 

It tastes salty, bazaar in her mouth. His fingers retract with a resounding pop and he’s asmused enough to laugh wholly. 

 

In a swift motion Illidan’s on his back and Asch is clutching at his chest, she has found herself astride him like this many times. Her husband liked to open her with his mouth, the demon seemed no different. 

 

“Up- or will you deny me?” Asch was going to speak, she really was but all that she managed was a squeak when his hands grip her ass and pull

 

His tongue roughly strikes her, Asch  clambers for his horns, squeezing them between her fists. His treatment continues and Asch can all but wail and grind into his mouth while he allows it. Asch knows Illidan very well, but it seemed that was not exclusive. His mouth stops short of its duty and he lifts her off his face. Asch cries out, wiggling in his hold. 

 

Illidan chuckles, smirking between her legs. His lips were shiny when he asked, “beg.” 

 

Asch knew he wouldn’t be so nice as to finish her without a catch. Her mouth hangs open like a fish, but he patiently waits. 

 

Asch makes stunted noises, not believing how cruel he was. Illidan raises a challenging brow, as if to try and test him. Asch gulps and tastes his seed, her thighs quiver and her cunt throbs.

 

“Please,” she belts before allowing her shame to overcome her. “Please t-touch me, please... please let me come.” The words fly out of her, a whining tone of loss to them “pleas my lord Illidan please please!” He coos softly, almost mocking her with the sweet sound. “Delightful.” 

 

 

Asch’s breaths are desperate, hurried gulps. His mouth returned to it’s place between her soaking thighs once he was satisfied with her pleading. Illidan hardly ever made her beg for things, he would give her the whole world if she wished it. 

 

Asch was lucky she didn’t want it, for it might start another war. 

 

A war he would win. 

 

 

His hands roam everything they can reach, Asch lets a sparing thought pass that he was exploring. Illidan liked to do that, touch all her parts. He claimed she was so soft, like the petals in her hair. Maybe it was because she liked doing it too, that she liked touching the hard parts of him. Asch remembers being young and afraid to touch his wings or scales or horns. That it would offend him. 

 

 

But she was young then, and Illidan liked to be touched. 

 

 

His hands touch and pinch the bites he left, Asch yelps and squirms, much to his enjoyment. Asch’s eyes grow heavy in pleasure but still notices the faint mark on his neck she left so long ago. How he still had it- how either of them still had any marks of each other was amazing and surprising all at once.

 

Asch remembers snarling harshly and clapping her teeth into his neck to repay the favour, Illidan was furious with her and was rough that night, but later she found him admiring the bleeding blunt little marks. 

 

 

Asch is brought back with a harsh bite to her inner thigh, making her squeal and gush against his handsome mouth, “am I boring you?” He hisses taking flesh into his mouth before slowly sucking a mark. “N-no!” He looks at her with a scowl, “n-no my l-lord!” Illidan smiles darkly at her correction. 

 

 

Asch sighs as his tongue returns to her, laving long and hard at her button, Asch cries out, fingers aching from there tight grip on his horns. Finally Illidan growls against her, sending her over the edge in a crashing orgasm. 

 

Her bones were jelly and Asch barely holds herself up as he pulls her away from his shiny wet face. Illidan sits up with her in his lap, Asch’s hands uselessly paw at his chest. Using everything she had Asch lifts herself up to his face, tongue pulling out of her abused mouth.

 

 

Illidan watches curiously as she licks his mouth clean, eyes drowsy and body hot. 

 

“Hm,” he purrs, “so affectionate.” He makes it sound like a bad thing. Asch was sure it was. 

 

Illidan pulls her legs apart, Asch can feel his cock against her belly. “Are you scared?” Illidan asks, finger pressed between her supple breasts “n-no my lord.” He grins showing off his teeth. 

 

“Get on your knees,” Asch slides off his legs, the sheets were covered in blood, Asch cringes at the sight, Illidan however sounds delighted. His fingers press into her back, touching the welts. 

 

 

Asch shivers in pain, moaning out in displeasure. Illidan hums pleasently, pleased by her response. Without much warning his hand grabs her hip, nails digging into her hip bone. Asch gasps as he yanks her ass up, cringing at how his claws slice into her soft skin and bite her bone. 

 

 

His other hand gropes the back of her thigh, pulling until her legs part in a wide arch. Asch flushes in the pillows, unable to bring her head to the side to gaze at her mates face. 

 

Asch cannot contain the sound she makes when his knuckle presses right against her opening, her back bows obediently, ass backing into his impressive form. Illidan merely chuckles, holding his hand there and enjoying the warmth. 

 

Her wet lips part for his invasion, knowing better than to poke with his finger Illidan simply rubs his knuckle teasingly into her hole, admiring the slight resistance.

 

 

His other hand teases over her cut flesh, reveling the way her back cringed and bent out of reach, a whisper of pain came from her puffed mouth. Illidan leaned forward, tilting his head, her thighs shook in effort under him. 

 

 

The sheets were wet with tears, Illidan licks her ear, “have I hurt you, wife?” 

 

“N-no my l-lord!” Illidan frowns. 

 

Asch.” 

 

Asch looks behind her, shocked at the care the inner demon had. His blackish face was twisted in sudden concern. 

 

“N-no it just- stings.” Illidan stays over her, eyeing the welts his nails made. “Poor little thing.” Illidan nips her ear, causing her to jolt and gasp. 

 

Illidan lifts himself away from her head, pulling her hips toward his, letting his cock rest agasint her ass. 

 

“Illidan.” She yips, balling her fists into the sheets. Illidan covers her hand, a gentle vibrating laugh hums through her body. The points of his claws perk her skin, causing blood to well and streams down his fingers and into the bed. 

 

 

Asch felt the strands of his loose hair caress over her throbing back, she could feel the blood welling, hardening over the cuts he made. The pain was distracted when his cock head poked her weeping entrance. For a moment Asch held her breath, the hand cast over hers pierced the bed. Illidan thrusts gently, enjoying the feeling. 

 

 

Her breath was wretched out of her, all at once she felt something very different. She knew the shape of her husband, the way his cock stood and what it felt like inside of her, but she was shocked, a straggled cry ripped from her throat. 

 

Illidan rumbles, a cross between a pleasured sigh and a laugh of derision. Inch by inch Asch struggled with breathing, baring down. 

 

 

The crack of his wings made a majestic, if not a frightful sound as his hips pressed tightly against her backside. A huff of air resounded around the room and Illidan had a tight, unforgiving hold on her body. His fingers had dug holes into their bed and pressed her hand harshly into the surface. Asch had no doubt his nails had did damage where they locked tightly to her hipbone. 

 

 

Asch noisily breathes, her heart throbs in her ears making a deafening sound. Illidan’s teeth pull her skin. Goosebumps raise across her body at the feeling, those sharp, wet teeth dig into her flesh. Still inside of her, Illidan juts his hips, Asch moans a slight mix of pain and longing when he cuts into the meat of her neck. 

 

Blood wells against his teeth, splashing on his tongue. Asch whimpers, cringing badly at the sharp pain. Illidan snarls around his hold, not giving an inch. 

 

Asch can feel every point of his teeth, how deep they were in her neck, the searing burn that came with it. It felt like sweet agony, the pain of his treatment and they way his cock slid effortlessly. 

 

 

Illidan barely made a pace, slowly pulling away and pushing back in, His teeth let go with a squelch, watching with pleasant, dangerous eyes as it bleeds freely in rivets down her shoulder. Illidan feels her whole body shiver when the blood tickles her throat. 

 

 

Delicately Illidan pulls his fingers free and than runs the points of his claws along her thighs, snapping his hands in place around her pelvis. 

 

 

Asch heard him exhale loudly, chuckle and before she knew it Asch was jacked forward into the pillows, a squeal escaping her mouth. “That’s it,” he coos dangerously “wail on my cock!”

 

 

Asch’s face flamed up at his words, Illidan had never said such things to her, the cold pillow he fucked her into felt like and ice balm. 

 

One hand returned over hers and his chest rumbles a magnificent purr, his wings shadow over her whole body blotting out the lamp light “beautiful elf,” he snarls, hips slamming into her ass “of course nothing could satisfy your lust,” he licks up her ear, nibbling the end “you were born to take demon cock.” 

 

 

Illidan threads his hand in her hair, pulling her up by the roots. Asch moans, Illidan didn’t do it hard enough to hurt her. Asch pushes agasint his back, clawing at his forearms while Illidan’s hands grope and tease everything he can reach. Asch can feel her thighs drool, wet and slick. “Wanna- wanna come...!” She gasps, bouncing back into his cock, pulsing within her Illidan hisses, kneading her breasts.

 

“Than come, wife.” 

 

 

And Asch does.

 

 

Screaming and thrashing, head thrown over his shoulder, all air escaping her lungs with a shout of his name, Illidan groans, swirling his hips, feeling her lock and squeeze around him. Thrusting savagely, bitting and snarling Illidan comes, forcing everything he could inside of her. 

 

 

Asch felt her whole body sag against his, the bigger capable frame held her. Illidan hums darkly, agasint her hair she can feel him smirk.

 

“I am not finished with you yet.” 

 

Asch lulls her head, confused. Illidan rubs his fingers into her neck, pinching the abused skin taught “I said I would open every hole you had,” he coos in a devilish manner, Asch jumps in his lap as his thump presses between her cheeks, playing with her puckered hole. Illidan snorts in amusement, holding her still “he’s never opened you here- has he?” Asch knows he knew the answer, but he wants her to say it. 

 

Asch shakes her head, mouth going dry as his clever finger circles and prods at her “say it.” He goads, smile like a sharks. “He’s... he’s never-ah!” The tip of his thump pokes inside, Asch squirms, “I’ll have something he won’t.” Illidan sounds delighted by this, Asch feels hot with embarrassment.   

 

“I-I don’t like th-that!” She squeaks, it was true. Illidan tested limits before, some Asch liked and others she didn’t- but this. She outright refused this. Illidan never pushed beyond a simple inquiry one night and took the rejection well, instead he spent ample time between her thighs instead. 

 

Now the demon fingers were coaxing her open almost uncomfortably gentle, “you will.” He sounds confident and smug. Asch huffs loudly. 

 

Illidan watches, greatly amused, as she struggles to pull away from his haunting fingers, as he added his third and last digit she hisses and flinches away, droopy ears perked in alert.

 

 

 

Her pretty face contorts in discomfort, Illidan licks the shell of her ear. “Keep squirming like that and I won’t be gentle.” Asch flinches, glaring as his fingers press harder “your claws!” She snarls, twisting in his grip. Illidan purrs darkly, turning into a laugh so deep it vibrates her very core “hush pet. I haven’t hurt you yet.” 

 

Her back throbs in protest. 

 

The squelch sound makes her face flame as he removes his fingers, cock wetly slapping her back, “breath little elf.” He warns before pressing the head inside. Asch gasps as it pops inside, stressing her opening. “Ah-ha!” She hisses, trying to pull away, Illidan hums pleasantly. 

 

Asch struggles as he slides inside of her, stretching her in the oddest way. “You’re doing so well darling,” he coos, thrusting gently, Asch pants, it felt so full. Illidan sneaks his fingers around her and rubs her cunt, playing with the cum dripping out of her. 

 

“Such a mess,” he muses, wiping it across her wet thigh, “such a pretty sight you’d make for my hunters.” Asch moans, blushing embarrassedly “would you like that?” He hisses, thrusting harshly “too be spread open in front of them?” Asch shivers “should I find one?” Suddenly he halts, cock posed to withdraw, Asch gets a bubble of fear and shrieks, “no- please no!” 

 

Illidan pulls her against him tightly, “no never,” he promises, licking her neck “you are for my eyes alone, little elf.” Asch hiccups, nodding along to his words, shivering as he purrs and pushes back inside her.

 

 

“On your belly,” he commands, pushing his forward, Asch whimpers, bringing her legs up, stretching cuts and opening the scabbed wounds on her back. Illidan’s cock relentlessly shoves inside her as his fingers thrust into her messy cunt, squelching as they catches his cum. Asch jolts, moaning loudly into the pillows “that’s it wife, take it.”

 

It didn’t take much after that, both parties were strung out and Illidan despite wanting to draw it out was forced to finish because of Asch. Both wrung out and exhausted, they lay in their sweat, cum and wetness. 

 

 

 

Finally Asch lulls her head and sees Illidan, panting and himself again as she always knew him. “Illidan....?” She feels him sigh. 

 

“Asch.” 

 

 

With all her power she reaches up and behind her, cupping his jaw. He leans into it, “did it hurt you?” His voice was used, tired.

 

Asch smiles “I love you.” 

 

Illidan pulls her off his limp cock, holding her still against his chest, “it hurt you.” His gaze was fix upon the bed, the blood across it’s surface. Asch turns in his embrace, smiling lazily and sated “Illidan,” she coos in the sweetest way “I love you,” her words drag and tease.

 

 

His mouth opens to speak, but nothing comes out as Asch falls from his arms, dropping into the bed before pulling him with her. Illidan settles agasint her, warm and tired. All he can smell is sex, sweat, blood and them.

 

Asch nuzzles into his skin, like she always does and Illidan’s words catch in his throat. 

 

“I love you,” she says again, yawning. Illidan finally closes his eyes “I love you too Asch.” 

Chapter 101: Koltira dabbles 2

Summary:

Koltira Deathweaver/original female elf

 

Hello!!! People said they liked this character and I liked writing him so have another!

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Koltira knew it was dangerous to enter the Crystalsong Forest, it being so close to Dalaran, the city of the Lich Kings enemies. Any one mage could see him and sound the alarm.

 

All this pain for some apples, Koltira wonders if it was worth the trouble. The girl in his bed was a gift to him and yet here he was, sick to his stomach at the idea of forcing himself upon her and now he was out sneaking about in purple trees looking for famous apples. He had found a few but rather then come back in a few days he decided to scavenge for more. 

 

At least he wouldn't have to worry about feeding her while he got a plan together. Silvermoon was not a place he could send her, much less get too now. Leaving Icecrown with her was almost too dangerous and a journey that far would be a risk he wasn’t about to take. 

 

Dalaran was certainly an option, what with the base on the ground that allowed access to the city above. If he managed it Koltira could get out of Icecrown and drop her close by, the girl was good at listening and would follow his instructions well enough. 

 

 

When he could do that was a mystery. It would have to be when Arthas wasn’t in Icecrown and that was becoming a rare occurrence. More than a handful of battles were lost, but it was a good enough number to make the lord of the Scourge resign to his icy tower. Some say it was to think, others said it was to brood over failures. Koltira didn’t much care what Arthas decided to do in his time. 

 

 

Koltira finally filled his satchel with enough apples and quickly called his bone gryphon. 

 

Upon his return he found no one in the halls or entrances, not even a ghoul in sight. It made his trek into the armoury a little less worrisome. Here he had hopes of finding something for the girl to wear, many women were also raised into deathknights and it was common to see them around the citadel. 

 

Moving some crates he found piles of linens, these were spare shirts used under armour. Grabbing the longest one he could find Koltira stuffs it away in his bag and replaces what he moved before heading back to his room. 

 

When Koltira eases the door open he does not find the girl sitting where he left her.

 

 

Every apartments was small and vacant of any belongings, beside bedding and a closet the only other things in the room was a ruined red velvet chair that looked more black with dust then ruby and a molded black end table. 

 

In the dusty red chair was no other than the elf, staring out the frozen window with forlorn eyes. She shakes with an all too present chill, seemingly stuck to her bones. Despite having the blankets, she was still small and elves were not meant for this weather. 

 

“Here,” He says bringing the bag up to his chest, “this should be enough until I figure out what to do with you.” The girl blinks at him, seemingly surprised at his words. She tries to reach for the bag, but her hands shake so badly Koltira hesitates in giving it to her. 

 

“Are you alright...” he pauses. “What’s your name?” Her lips quiver and tears bead in her eyes, “A-Asch-," her teeth click together loudly and her breath is noisy and frothed with steam. Koltira dumps the bag on the end table, an apple rolls out and wobbles against the wood, looking odd and alive. 

ee

 

More alive than the elf in front of him. 

 

“Come away from the window, Asch” Koltira coaxes. Asch struggles to stand, wobbling like a new born foal fresh on its legs. Koltira is reminded just how little she is when the blankets fall away to reveal soft, supple flesh. 

 

The poor girl gasps, knees shaking and before she can fall on the floor, Koltira grabs her, yanking the blankets around her. “Gods,” he mutters, watching her shake like a leaf in rain. 

 

“I-It’s s-so c-cold,” she struggles to say, violently shivering. Koltira bites his lip, unsure of what he could. Asch’s lips were a pearly blue and her face was sickly. 

 

 

Koltira wracks his brain, trying to find something he could do for her as he carries her back to the bed. Careful as he could manage he drops her onto the surface, loosely wrapping the sheets in hopes some warmth would get trapped within and do away with some of the cold. 

 

Then it hit him. Warmth. 

 

Koltira had long since lost his affliction to freezing temperatures but it did not mean he had lost his warmth. 

 

Koltira quickly strips off his armour, dropping it carelessly onto the floor close to the bed, Asch is too cold to notice him undress, not even when he sits on the bed. “Asch?” The frozen face turns to him from under the blankets, just barely can he see her whole face. Her jaw is tightly clinched in some effort to stop the clattering of her teeth and Koltira only feels worse. 

 

“May I warm you?” He says vaguely, watching her shake, “With my heat. It will stave some of your chill away.” Koltira sees her consider it, frightened. At faint shade of pink dusts her cheeks when she looks over the rest of him. For a moment he thinks she was going to say no or say nothing at all, until she lefts the blanket and stares at him helplessly. 

 

 

Koltira scoots under the sheet, “Come here,” he mutters opening his arms. Asch hesitates but shifts over, the freezing press of her chest against his doesn’t bother him, but as soon as his skin touches hers she reviles in it. Koltira is surprised by the suddenness of it, how quickly she wrapped around him in desperation. 

 

Asch’s cold face presses into his neck while her hands clutch his back and legs wrap around his waist, for a moment the only sound in the room is her teeth clicking. 

 

Than a small sigh of relief, her body was still shivering but there was faint improvement. 

 

“T-Thank y-you,” he feels her say against his bare collarbone. Koltira grunts, loosely wrapping his arms around her naked back, “Try and sleep...” he trails off, then says, “Don’t thank me.”

 

Her hair softly tickled his skin as she nods her head, throat bobbing in fright. Koltira sighs and leans into the bed frame.

 

 

 

Koltira lost track of time as he sat there with the naked elf in his lap, sleeping peacefully save a shiver once or twice every so often. The colour was coming back to her face and her akin no longer felt like dead cold, so Koltira lived with the uncomfortable feeling of her pressed into his skin. 

 

The worst part was that she was truly beautiful, her nose was softly pointed and her lashes were long and curled. There wasn’t a single imperfection upon her face and anywhere he dared himself to peak. A few times he wondered while he looked her over if she was sleeping after all, she was so clearly terrified of him it shocked him when he felt her slump against him and finally fall asleep. 

 

Koltira brushes her hair behind her shoulder and lifts her face up to look at it, truly something beautiful to look at, it made him wonder exactly who she was. Her hair was fluffed and white, drawn down her back straight and free. 

 

Koltira watches her mouth open in a sigh, the pink petals drawing his attention, in fact he was so engrossed he hardly heard the footsteps approaching his door. That is until the offender slammed open his apartments door, crackling the wall and making the hinges shriek in protest. 

 

 

Asch jumps in is arms, screaming loudly and horrified, clutching his shoulders with desperate fingers, pressing into his whole body with all she could muster. Koltira barely flinches, glaring angrily at who entered. Thassarian jolts in confusion, blinking his wide eyes before smirking grossly “Ah. I see I’ve interrupted.” He says laughing “I told you that would warm her.” Koltira frowns, “Why are you here?” 

 

 

Thassarian was always obnoxious, showboating and almost as prideful as an elf, so when he leans in the doorframe Koltira prepares for the worst. “Look at her,” he coos, nastily smirking at her. “Aren’t you pretty. Why did you get such a pretty girl? How was his cock sweetheart?” Koltira feels her hide in his neck, tears beading in her eyes. “Enough!” Koltira barks, hissing like a deadly snake. 

 

Thassarian chuckles, “You’ve grown attached- how sweet. Arthas wants us at the Shadow vault. Tirion and his band of hero’s are causing trouble- you can bring your toy along. He doesn’t care.” Thassarian croons at her, “So long as she doesn’t get in the way.” Koltira raises a brow at this “when?” 

 

Thassarian shrugs “in a hour at most. Be ready before then.” 

 

Koltira huffs as he leaves, annoyed that he didn’t close the door behind him. Asch shifts, still tense as a bowstring agasint him. “Ah..” he sighs loudly “I suppose I can’t leave you.” Wide beautiful eyes blink up at him. Koltira offers her a smile, “Tell me something.” He waits until she nods, “Whose side are you on? Who could I give you too if opportunity presents?” She looked Alliance, but that could easily be wrong. 

 

 

“A-Alliance m-my lord...” Ah, so it was as he thought. Koltira hums, brushing hair away from her face again, much to her surprise. “Then I suppose I shall keep and eye out. The Shadow vault has been contested for ages now. I may be able to find you safety.” 

 

 

Asch’s ears droop in confusion, the expression on her face was dubious, “You... you really don’t wish to... keep me?” Koltira snorts at her question, “F-forgive me my-“ “No no, of course not little one.” He soothes, “There is no fun in making love to a slave.” That and she was young, Koltira was no veteran, but he certainly was older than this girl. If it was to be believed she was a virgin, which Salanar had promised, it meant she would barely be old enough to find a match in their home. 

 

She was too beautiful to be a common girl, too well spoken. She called him a lord, which meant she was respectful to her betters and trained properly in etiquette. If she was a lady and Koltira assumes correct she would have found a husband by now and be well on her way to becoming a mother. 

 

But fate was cruel and she was here, naked in his lap and their city was razed.  

 

“And my company is not wanted by you,” he states flatly. She opens her mouth but he protests, “It is no insult, nothing of yours is mine to take. Not your flower, not your interest.” At this her face blooms and Koltira lifts her off of him, pulling the blankets over her bare skin. 

 

“Here, eat and dress. Then we will leave.” 

 

 

Koltira found it a little amusing as they walked to the stables that Asch was clinging to him like a frightened child, looking at her feet as many death knights coo at her, of course Koltira barked at the ones who got too close or tried to touch her. 

 

Thassarian was already on his mount, holding the blacked hair girl against his chest, while he was dressed in thick armour she was completely bare, naked as the night before and shivering. Koltira frowns at that, watching her shiver and fidget uncomfortably. 

 

“Up,” He says, holding his hands open. Asch swallows, allowing him to pick her up and place her upon his dreadsteed. Bloodmist barely acknowledges the extra weight as he heaves up behind her. Thassarian snorts, circling them as Koltira wraps a blanket around her. “How touching,” He mocks “she must have been something. Tell me Koltira, what did she sound like?” Koltira bites his cheek, holding a frown from surfacing.

 

 

“Like an angel.” He supplies simply, biting his tongue as the human laughs, “And how did you take her?” Koltira was never a good liar alive, but dead he learned quickly. “From behind, as you would any whore.” At his words Asch shrivels, Koltira ignores it, the more he answered the less Thassarian would ask. 

 

Thassarian hums amused. “I’d ask to let me have a go but you look so attached I couldn’t possibly.” Koltira rolls his eyes, nudging his horse forward, Thassarian follows behind him eagerly “I wouldn’t let you even if I wasn’t.” Thassarian eyes him, smug as ever, “So you are attached?” Koltira flatly stares at him, long brow drawn, “For the day I have known her? Yes Thassarian, I am attached.” His voice dripped with sarcasm, but somehow he thinks Thassarian doesn’t believe him. 

 

 

“How long will this take?” Koltira asks, but his real question was, is it enough time to find Asch sanctuary? Thassarian muses, weighting it in his head. “I suppose a week or more at most. Why? Eager to have you time?” Koltira rebuffs him, “Time away from you? Always?” The human grins. 

 

 

The camp they set up was around the ridges of the Shadow vault. Scouts reported that there was a small resistance inside the vault and Arthas commanded them to see it purged. 

 

Koltira set his tent at the far edge of the encampment, Asch was seated on the pulled up bed, clutching at the blanket she rode here in. Koltira gathers his gear and before he leaves turns to her, “Stay quiet and do not leave. There is food there. I will be back before sun down.” Asch nods quickly, pulling her feet as close as she can to her body, “Yes my lord.” Koltira cringes at that, but lets it go. 

 

 

As soon as he pulls the flap down he regrets leaving. 

 

 

The resistance proved to be less than challenging and disappointingly most of it was Horde and supporters, not as though they left anyone he could send Asch back with. 

 

 

Koltira didn’t stay for the reanimation, the process was oddly painful to watch, Thassarian didn’t glance his way, or bother to try and keep him there, no one did. 

 

Every time he left, Koltira always worried about what he would come back to find, would she be alright? Would she be hurt? Would be find someone else with her? It was exhausting. Worrying after someone was not something he was used too. Even his brother, who he let die. The difference in the two was at least she listened to him. 

 

 

Koltira didn’t bother to study why exactly she did in the first place. 

 

When he opened the flap he watched Asch fidget, then relax upon seeing his face. “A-are you al-alright?” Koltira stands straight, casting a shadow over her, “What- I-“ he stops, “You were worried?” Asch blooms in shame, colouring a pretty pink as she stresses the blanket between her fingers, “Well- yes? I heard fighting...” Koltira snorts softly, shaking his head as he approached, cupping her chin in his hand “I am the last person to worry after.” Asch surprised him by leaning into his hand, grabbing his wrist “Someone should- you worry over me don’t you?” Her voice sounded nice when it wasn’t nervous. 

 

 

“Hmm.” He grunts. “Who wouldn’t? You’re so little.” She looks up at him with impossible innocence and Koltira feels a pit in his stomach. “Are you cold?” He tries to ignore the stirring in his belly, desperate to find something else to talk about. “Only a little it’s alright-“ Koltira already begun to sit behind her, pulling her onto him. 

 

 

“Did many get hurt?” She asks against his throat, fingers playing with his intricate breastplate. “No one survived.” That made her fingers pause “Oh.” They settled after that. 

 

For the second time Koltira wonders just who she was. What did she live for? What was she before this? He was a farstrider as was his brother. He loved being one, he was good at it as well, better with a bow. He supposed he’s better with a sword now. 

 

“Will...” her voice brings him back, “Will you get into trouble? Sending me away?” Unimaginable kinds he thinks, but instead he says “They wouldn’t notice.” And maybe they wouldn’t, Koltira heard some had killed their presents, Arthas would think the same of him if he played it carefully enough. 

 

“Night will fall soon. I've seen smoke from fires not far from here.” They likely came from the tournament grounds over the ridge. “There has to be people there, they will take you if you tell them what has happened to you.” She would do well there, maybe they would send her to Stormwind or somewhere further south. Koltira hoped so. 

 

“We’re going tonight?” She sounded shocked, as if it was still untrue. “Yes, I said I would, did I not?” Asch had a nervous habit of playing with things, his fingers knead and stress over his plate as she pondered, Koltira didn’t seem to mind so much however. “I just- you did.” She says instead, forgoing whatever she was beginning to say. 

 

 

“Try and sleep now. We’ll be walking far.” 

 

 

Notes:

EDITED 17/JAN/2019

Chapter 102: Malfurion/Xavius dabbles 1

Summary:

Malfurion Stromrage/Original female elf

This got so out of hand so fast...

WARNINGS
Forced/noncon sex
Forced knotting
Noncon voyeurism
Minor Death

Chapter Text

 

 

It was never completely quiet in the nightmare no matter the time of day or night, there was always an eerie sound echoing down the vine addled halls or dripping noises that seemed to never halt. 

 

 

Sometimes far away moans could be heard in the distance if you listened long and hard enough, but Asch never tried too. 

 

 

Living in servitude of the nightmare lord she learnt to never speak and never wonder about anything that didn’t concern her duties. Xavius was a unkind master, his voice a growl at all times and his hooves a terrifying click. Asch was one of many dozens of girls captured long ago from a war that was long gone and finished. For thousands of years she thought, like many, someone would come for her, realize she was missing.

 

After thousands more years she realized, like many, no one was coming. 

 

At the time there was war, it was easy to forgot about common people going missing, dying. Things tragically happen all the time and no one tries to think on it more than they had too. They must have figured her dead or no one was alive to remember she existed. Only her parents and brother knew she was alive and they must have been dead by now. 

 

Looking around her she sees others just like her, forgotten girls and boys all grown up now and all hope lost on their faces. She was young, very young when she was taken, plucked from under the floorboards of her home nestled into a tree and brought here. 

 

Her duty was to wipe down the walls today, yesterday she mopped the floor, tomorrow it would be something similar. It always was. 

 

Everyone around her was unremarkable, including herself. None of them had any fight, firstly they weren’t taught, and secondly all had lost any will for it. Asch remembered wanting to become a Warden, someone who would fight the oppression. Someone who mattered. 

 

She remembered her peoples language, but no one was allowed to speak, she taught herself to read just enough to get by. It was more than most. 

 

Asch bears down on her knees, listening to them crack in protest as she throws her cloth back into its bucket, the water splashes onto the floor and slops over the wooden rim. The water was clouded with dirt and grime, grey and putrid from her work. 

 

Still she reaches back, wringing the cloth and soaking her scrappy dress before returning to her work. Not that it made anything look cleaner, somehow it always looked dirty no matter how long she wasted scrubbing. 

 

The guards didn’t much care and saw nothing to correct as they stood around her and the others, mindlessly toying with their weapons and armour. 

 

 

After this wall she would hold her hand up for them to check it, then be dismissed. 

 

Asch wanted to rest, be granted a dreamless sleep, despite living in a nightmare. Xavius was cruel, but he at least allowed his slaves that. Asch used to wonder if it was because he had gotten bored plaguing them with hellish visions and nightmares, she would like to think so since it had stopped years ago. 

 

Asch used to see him torment them, even her if he decided upon it. Xavius had fun in the beginning, beating and playing with them, breaking them. After a while she stopped seeing him all together, glad for it but in the back of her mind terrified. It as better to see the snake then to be unaware. 

 

 

Days went by at a pace she wasn’t used too in all the years she had been there. The guards yelled at them to double their efforts, clean everything better and to those that were too slow, were whipped.

 

 

Asch was quick, sloppy but she didn’t get hit like four other boys and two girls. Asch didn’t understand why they had to redouble their work, she dared to wonder why Xavius wanted things cleaned so well.

 

 

Her ponderings weren’t answered for days to come, finally after almost a week of aching bones and threats of beating, the nightmare lord entered. 

 

Asch had forgotten how long it had been since she saw him, standing there with his impressive height, shoulders like red daggers and horns like the very thing he was. 

 

His smile stretched around sharp teeth, glinting in the light like shiny pearls, contrast to everything dark about his face. His hooves clunked against the wood below him, making the echo so loud everyone flinched as he walked deeper into the sanctum.

 

“My disciples,” his voice booms, Asch quivers, old fright coming out new. “I have wonderful news,” Asch watches him touch the heads of bowing elves, scraping his claws through ratted blue, green and purple hair. 

 

“We are going to entertain a very important guest.” His eyes trace over them all, lingering on the girls, fingers pinching the boys cheeks “you,” He points to a green haired girl, “you,” a black haired boy, “you,” another blue haired boy.

 

“And- you.” He points to Asch. 

 

“Take them to my chambers.” Xavius turns, “and don’t bruise them.” 

 

Asch had never seen the inside of his chambers, never saw the halls or doors even. She wasn’t placed there for cleaning so it was none of her concern. More girls and boys were there, cleaning the walls and looking up at them with dull eyes and bare hints of interest. 

 

 

Asch hasn’t felt clean in ages, her hair felt so light and her skin felt so fresh. Others around her reviled in the water, peace crossing their faces as they stewed in the warm water. 

 

One of the boys even smiled at her. 

 

“Help?” The smiling boy asked, for the first time in years she heard someone else’s voice save the guards and Xavius. Asch licks her wet lips, nodding frantically at his question. Asch watches him wade through the soapy water to get to her, hands stretched out to catch her hair.

 

His skin was purple and his eyes were a glowing yellow, the hands that grabbed her long sliver hair were damaged and cut, lines of light colour on his palms and fingers told her he was punished badly and scarred. Save most his body his face was angled and undamaged, handsome even. 

 

Asch let him massage suds in her hair while she took a sponge and ran it over his chest, bruises and scars littered his breast, scarred his flat belly and burns littered his arms. 

 

“You are young,” he says in a whisper, smiling as she looks up at him “there is still hope in your face.” They both had been here the same amount of time, but subtle lines around his mouth and eyes told her he was an older man. 

 

“Is there?” They were the first words she spoke since her capture. The other chuckles softly, rinsing her hair with a cup he found floating aimlessly. 

 

His head bobs slowly, “You remind me of my daughter,” pain etched across his face “Stay hopeful little one.” 

 

 

Asch’s hands slip off his skin as he parts from her, smiling lovingly, as if she really was his daughter. 

 

Glancing over Asch saw the other two brought with them holding hands, crying into the water. They couldn’t have haven known each other- but Asch didn’t know the man that washed her hair. 

 

 

The clicks and clops of hooves scared the two apart and Asch into slipping back down in the water, the door opened and Xavius’ grand form steps into the bathhouse, face musing and eyes dangerous. 

 

“Acceptable,” he says and Asch wonders what would have happened if it wasn’t. Xavius inhaled deeply, fog swirling around his fur “you, girl.” Asch thought for a moment he was asking after her, but the green haired girl splashed in the water, shaking “Dress.” 

 

 

The sloshing of the water disturbed the otherwise silence, the clapping of her feet shocked Asch as his eyes turned over her. “You both,” he waves away at the boys “stay until called.”

 

“Now.” Asch’s stomach dropped “come with me.” 

 

 

Asch made as little noise as she could when she got out, sopping wet and cold.

 

 

The girl that got out before her was given a robe, Asch was forced to follow Xavius completely bare and shivering. The halls they passed were darker, scarier than the ones she knew. Light was becoming swallowed by shadow and it was almost pitch black by the time they reached the end, or what she thought was the end.

 

A meek push shoved open a black door, dark as void. Asch squeezes her eyes shut at the light erupting from it.

 

A shove forces her into the room and stumbling until she falls into her knees. Asch hears a crack and gasps, lips quivering.

 

“Xavius enough!” Someone is on her, pulling her from the floor and into an embrace. It was warm and Asch could only see green hair, it smelt like wilderness and flowers. Asch tried to move but she was tightly held, something that felt like feathers tickled her naked back. 

 

“Have you taken too her already?” Xavius snorts, laughing darkly “That wife of yours isn’t going to be pleased how easily you have forgotten her.” Asch feels the rumble come from deep within the chest she was pressed against. “How dare you!” The voice above her head was deep, resonating and calming. 

 

“My darling,” Xavius coos softly, enticing Asch to look at him “This is our guest.” Asch didn’t know what she was suppose to do with that. 

 

“Tell me,” Xavius taunts, “Has your flower been plucked yet?” The grip on her arm tightens, Xavius moves toward them, a leer on his mouth. Asch blinks her watery eyes up at him, confusion clouding her head “Xavius enough! You will not touch her!” The Satyr’s chest shakes with laughter “No archdruid, I won’t be.” His smile is terrible, “But you will.” 

 

 

The body against hers flinches, frozen now in shock “I-I will not!” He sputters, feathers shaking along her skin, Xavius doesn’t looks disappointed in his response “But you see- you will. You will do everything I ask or everyone you’ve come to save will die.” 

 

 

Fingers snapped and the door opens again, the three elves brought with her stumble and fall onto the floor right next to him, the black haired elf tires to smile at her through pain in his face. “Stay hopeful,” he says, before his eyes lose all brightness. Blood spits out from his neck and before she can see the wound a hand covers her face.

 

“You- you’re-!” He sputters, lost and upset. Xavius laughs “there are hundreds more just like them.” Asch can hear their bodies being slid across the floor “Malfurion,” He coos “must I kill more for to you listen?” Malfurion?

 

 

Asch jolts in his arms, it couldn’t be. The hero of mount Hyjal, the first Druid. It couldn’t be Malfurion, but Asch couldn’t be sure, she had never seen him, only knew of his legend. 

 

 

Malfurion stayed silent, but slumped as if he was giving in. 

 

“Good boy,” Xavius taunts in victory, Malfurion’s hands move from her face and she sees Xavius spread along a plush sofa, floor drenched in blood at his feet. “Isn’t she pretty? Prettier then your wife. Look at that face,” his claws wretch into the fabric, tearing it deeply “Enough of this Xavius!” Malfurion barks, “stop this now!”

 

 

Xavius leans forward, watching them intensely “We’re only just starting Malfurion. Now.” He rubs his chin, mushing the hair there “Spread her open with your tongue.” Malfurion jumps, jostling her in his lap “I will do no such thing!”

 

Xavius looked like he expected that retort and smiles, “Guards bring me the others-" "No wait just-“ Malfurion snarls, Asch shakes in his arms “Forgive me Tyrande,” he whispers mournfully. 

 

Finally Asch is pulled from his chest and sees his face, beautiful eyes shining like bursting stars, tears dotting his handsome cheeks “I am so sorry,” he tells her, pain ready in his voice “I-I won’t hurt you...” Asch is pulled out of his arms, held with sure hands on her ribs “Stand pretty girl,” Xavius commands.

 

Asch wobbles on her feet, held up by Malfurion, she can hear the Satyr purr not far behind them. 

 

“Take my horns,” he mutters, tapping her hands gently with his sharp claws. Asch had never seen something quite like what Malfurion had fused to his head, of course Xavius had horns but these. Asch’s fingers snake around the dull points of his antlers, they didn’t move from her pressure. 

 

 

“What a picture,” Xavius mocks loudly, amused “This must be your natural state Malfurion. Tell me, does Tyrande command you just as I do?” Malfurion’s eyes flutter close, mouth pressed in a line “is that why it’s so easy for you to take orders?” His question didn’t require an answer, but Malfurion hisses anyway “I will kill you Xavius.” 

 

 

“Do as you're told, Druid.” 

 

 

Asch felt his hands on her thighs, parting them enough so he could see her cunt, Asch’s face flames as his eyes wander along her opening, there was a hesitant look upon his face, like he wanted to look away. Over his nose Asch could see the faint colouring, the beginning of a blush. It was a nice dark colour under his eyes and cheeks. 

 

 

The peak of his tongue pulled out of his mouth and Asch bit the inside of her cheek to keep from squeaking as he leaned into her, connecting the hot, wet appendage with her opening. 

 

 

Asch couldn’t help the yelp that escaped her as his tongue slid along her slit, parting her lips in one slow motion. “Darling girl,” Asch flintches at his voice, looking over her shoulder at him “lift your leg onto his shoulder.” Asch nods hastily, Malfurion lifts her ankle over his arm, helping her perch her thigh against his warm, naked shoulder. 

 

Asch moans when his tongue continues without warning. “I’m almost jealous,” Xavius claims, watching her cunt flutter around his tongue as it works into her. Asch can feel him frown against her, but he continues anyway, licking and sucking as if this was something he wanted. 

 

 

“O-oh” Asch gasps, jumping in his hold as his tongue swirls around her bud, “use fingers,” at his point Asch hardly hears the words coming from behind her, but Malfurion hesitates before complying. Asch feels his prodding and squirms as the pads of his fingers touch her opening. “Ah!” Her hands squeeze his antlers when his large fingers slide inside. Asch had never felt something there before, it felt full and odd, like she was stuffed. 

 

 

The finger pushed inside her, wiggling just slightly “Oh!” Asch moans, feeling herself gush into his beard, behind them Xavius is chuckling darkly “another,” at his command Malfurion adds another finger, making it burn between her legs “I wonder, do you make your wife cum like this?” At his words Malfurion freezes, eyes burning with hatred.

 

 

“I didn’t tell you to stop.” The playful tone quickly turns dark and angry, Asch feels her whole body shake. The sound of his hooves echo across the floor again and Asch can feel his presence right behind her, but doesn’t dare look.

 

“What does it feel like girl?” Asch swallows, mouth opening to take a deep breath “w-warm” his hands touch her back, palming the ridges of her spine almost lovingly. Asch can feel the pit of her stomach hallow out, the last she remembers being touched by him he struck her. 

 

 

“Do you know why I choose you?” Asch gulps, shaking her head. As Xavius circled them she bared into Malfurion as much as she could, driving his fingers deeper and tongue further. “Because you listen without question.” One claw tickled up her arm, prickling her skin, the other hand grabs her face and forced her to look at him, “such a beautiful face. Make her cum Druid. Show me you aren’t worthless.” Asch panics as he hold her still, watching her with interest “I want to watch you peak. Look at me.” 

 

 

Asch’s eyes lock onto his, wide and terrified. Malfurion doubles his efforts, curling his finger with purpose inside her and his tongue sloppyily laps at her, swirling around her bud. Asch whines, not being able to help herself. Xavius looks pleased by it, smiling around sharp teeth “don’t hide,” he tells her, “let us hear you.” At his urgency Asch moans, finally allowing the pleasure inside out, making sure she did not stifle anything. 

 

 

The Satyrs eyes flutter and his gaze sweeps over them, if possible his grin grows “archdruid,” Xavius coos “What would your wife think?” Malfurion glares up at him and Asch whimpers in confusion, brow furrowed  in more than pleasure. Xavius laughs at her, his fingers caress her jaw “you made his cock rise pretty girl.” Asch can’t see, but the colour on Malfurion’s face tells her that it was very true. 

 

 

Asch chokes on a gasp as Xavius rolls his fingers across her face, Malfurion buries his face between her thighs, a soft squelching sound can be heard under all the heavy panting, making Asch’s face bloom and her hips twist. 

 

“Stay still for him darling,” Xavius’ claws traces over the slopes of her breasts, thumbing her nipples and making her head dizzy. Despite telling her to stay still Asch couldn’t, her hips worked of their own accord, grinding down against Malfurion’s mouth. The Druid below her groans, the noise shaking through her like rolling thunder. 

 

Asch feels her stomach twist and flip as his fingers abuse her walls, pulling her wetness out of her, drenching his face. One last purr comes out of the Druid and Asch feels everything at once, the rush of pleasure stinging through her brain and the ache in her buckling knees. Both men hold her up with their hands, Malfurion laps at her juices, cleaning the fluid from his lips. 

 

Asch’s hands peel off his antlers, wade through his unruly hair and Asch thinks she hears a sigh of almost pleasure from him. 

 

The moment of peace is shattered by Xavius’ humming, as he moves away Asch loses her balance, but Malfurion catches her and pulls her back into his lap, “I’m so sorry,” he mutters right into her ear, Asch only nods, eyes cast away. 

 

“Archdruid tell me, have you ever fucked anything but that wretched wife of yours?” Malfurion’s face twists in anger again, mouth a snarl and teeth glinting passed is pulled lip “watch your tongue!” 

 

Xavius snorts at his choice of words, making both Asch and Malfurion shrink in embarrassment. Xavius waves expectantly, Malfurion’s chest puffs, refusing him “I will not defile her Xavius.” One long, dark brow arches, “have you forgotten about all those elves? Or shall I spill more blood?” 

 

Malfurion heaves a massive sigh, “don’t make me do this.” Hearing the legendary Malfurion Stormrage beg was strange, almost unreal. The proud and infamous man, the first Druid and hero was reduced to pleading. 

 

Asch was terrified. 

 

“Come now,” Xavius coaxes, “you want this as much as she does. You cannot hide it,” as if to emphasis Xavius nods toward his lap, where his cock lay ridged against his thigh, “now do as you’re told and the only blood split will be on your cock.” Asch buries her face into Malfurion’s hair, face growing hot. 

 

 

Malfurion pets her back, trying to comfort her. His feathers tickle her again but this time it feels nice on her sweaty skin rather than uncomfortable “why are you doing this?” Malfurion hisses, “wanting to watch this? Disgusting- even for you.” Asch watches Xavius, the words were meant to shame him, but they did not take any affect. 

 

“Because nothing pleases me more than your suffering.” A grin spreads along his face “that and watching a beautiful women in the throngs of pleasure is no greater pleasure.” He waves his hand, “now, beautiful girl?” 

 

Asch perks, looking up at him. Xavius was leaning over, sitting on his damaged sofa again “get on your knees,” his finger spins showing her just how he wished her to be. Asch pulls off Malfurion, despite his hands trying to hold her still, doing as the Satyr asked.

 

Smiling he says “now present- like an animal.” Asch squeezes her eyes shut, tears prickling in the corners of her eyes. Xavius must have seen something she hadn’t because he’s laughing again, looking over her and at Malfurion “Tyrande’s never done this has she?” Asch presses her face into the floor, trying to ignore his taunts 

 

“Spread your legs wider- that’s it.” He coos, “if you could see his face darling.” Asch opened her eyes just enough to try and she sees stress lines and flared nostrils, a dark blush and heavy breathing. His whole body looked like a taught muscle, trying to spring free, like he was holding off from attacking her. 

 

Asch knew very little about Druids, but knew they closely knit with animals, that their minds were more in tune with nature and behaviour related to them. And Malfurion looked like he was going to ravage her. 

 

 

“Tyrande has never let you knot has she?” There was deep, harsh breathing behind her, it didn’t sound completely elven “but you will- won’t you pretty girl?” Asch doesn’t understand, but she nods. She would never disobey him, Asch knew what it meant if she did. 

 

“Speak.” Commanding.

 

“Y-yes!” Terrified. 

 

“Go on Malfurion.” Asch practically jumps when she feels lips on her spine, sloppy hurried kisses flutter up until his lips reach the ball at the back of her neck. His hands grope the meat of her hips, rubbing and coaxing her hips into position. Asch can feel the blunt tip of his cock leaking onto her thigh. His hips jut, thrusting against her leg, Asch twitches, shriveling away as he tries to connect again, cock hitting her opening before pulling away. 

 

 

Xavius darkly snorts, amused as Asch huffs uncomfortably, she can hear him mutter “mindless druids,” before leaning back. 

 

 

Asch feels his teeth naw at her neck, pulling the skin and growling around what he latched onto. Asch whines at the ache before the sudden rush of searing pain, Xavius grins at the yowl that rips out of her mouth. In one swoop of his hips the full length of his cock shoves straight into her. 

 

His cock throbs inside of her, swelling and pulsing angrily and he mindlessly fucks into her, straggled sounds escape her mouth as she’s shoved into the floor by his forceful hips. 

 

Asch feels a pool of her tears form under her cheek, the pain between her legs dulls while the pain in her neck doubles, the sharp ends of his teeth pierce her soft skin. Xavius is on his feet again, kneeling right in front of them now.

 

Asch hears Malfurion snarl in displeasure and flatten above her, crushing her chest into the floor, Xavius carts a hand though her hair, Malfurion is hissing, a furious mess over her. “Push into him.” He tells her softly, wiping her eyes and holding her face again. Asch opens her mouth, but the look he gives her is final. 

 

In the awkward position it was hard to do, but she tired and Malfurion purrs, shoving himself against her with vigour, something was pressing into her, something hard and still swelling. “Relax.” Asch fails, frantically searching his face. 

 

Without a warning and only a smirk from Xavius Asch feels something balloon inside of her, stretching her wide and unforgivingly, warmth shot into her and Malfurion melts, groaning around the wound he made in her neck, hips still shoving into her despite his obvious finish. 

 

“Enjoy.” Xavius’ hooves click and clip agasint the floor as he leaves. 

 

 

Asch felt dizzy, full and sore. She tried to force her mind to wander, but when she did she saw the blood caked on the floor where the man with the black hair died and decided to just breathe through the pain. 

 

She never bothered to wonder what time it was before, but now she tried to think of how long she had been here. Malfurion was asleep atop her, in the most uncomfortable position she could imagine. 

 

Asch tried to nudge his ribs, force him to wake up, Malfurion shook, a drowsy huff turned into a moan as his hips shuttered into her ass. “Oh- oh Elune-“ Malfurion held his head, eyes focusing as his head tired to catch up. 

 

Upon seeing the body below him, everything came rushing back at once. His cock was warm and wet and flared, caught inside the poor girl Xavius forced him too... 

 

 

Forced him to-

 

“Oh Elune,” he mutters wetly, “are- are you alright?” Malfurion held a hiss as his cock gushed again inside her, the girl winces at the feeling, nodding her head and exposing another wound, one a perfect match for his teeth. 

 

“Let me- let-“ Malfurion gathers her off the floor, helping her into his lap while trying not to tug at their tie, the girl falls against him, “what have I done?” He wails quietly, “please- are you alright? What’s your name?” Asch had never spoken her name aloud to anyone in a long time. 

 

“Asch-“ “are you alright?” Malfurion didn’t know what to do to help, but he was trying to. “Y-yes.” Malfurion bites his lip, whimpering as he fought against another wave of pleasure as it hit him. Asch cringes at the pressure it made, squirming at the feeling “w-what is th-this?” She asks, squeezing his cock. Malfurion shakes his head, “it’s- it’s a- it’s my knot-“ he watches her face screw up in confusion “it’s t-to much.” Malfurion sighs into her hair “w-will it go away?” He nods quietly “yes- I... don’t know when.” Xavius’ taunting held truth. Tyrande never allowed him this, wouldn’t even consider it. 

 

 

Malfurion had no idea when it would go down. 

 

 

“Can I... do anything?” He asks in futile attempt, Asch frowns, head lulling against his shoulder “are you- still... inside me?” Malfurion colours darkly, chocking on his words “yes...” he coughs “will it stop?” Malfurion shakes his head “when we... untie.” 

 

 

Malfurion didn’t notice her hands but felt them when one pressed against the base of his cock, Asch hisses, it must have been sensitive. Malfurion jolts, He was sensitive in a completely different way. 

 

A long, drawn moan escapes his throat, making them both freeze.

 

“I-I’m sorry,” he was breathless, “it... feels good?” Shame blooms in his belly, but he admits it, “t-this?” Her nervous fingers press back to where they joined, Malfurion’s hands squeeze into her hips, “s-stop,” he begs, hissing out in pleasure. Asch’s legs spread wider in his lap, prying his hand down onto her puffy filled cunt. Getting the idea Malfurion claps his other hand on the floor and dips forward, taking his fingers from her grip to touch her rosy clit. 

 

 

“O-oh...” Malfurion instinctively licks her shoulder, rubbing his fingers around their join, pushing his hips into her as his cock pulsates. Asch’s hands reach behind her, pulling him closer. Malfurion moans into her shoulder, in the back of his mind he felt terrible, that he was betraying his wife by taking pleasure in this, especially what was being done now.

 

 

But she felt so good around his knot, never had he ever felt something other than his closed fist around it, nothing so pleasurable and tight and warm. Nothing so responsive. 

 

 

Nothing that liked it as much as she seemed too. 

 

“Please- please move“ her hips wiggle into him. Malfurion huffs, pleasure wrung out of him “are- are you sure? It.. it doesn’t hurt?” Asch bares down, forcing him impossibly deep “feels full” Malfurion didn’t doubt that.

 

“M-make it feel g-good,” Malfurion couldn’t possibly deny that request.

 

Moving was a little hard, there wasn’t much give and what he could pull out was barely an inch, but the friction of just shifting inside of her seemed to do the trick and brought them both pleasure as he gently jostled her in his lap. 

 

Asch holds him close, kissing what she could and moaning in his ear as his fingers slid over her, Malfurion was a big man and practically draped over her as he thrusted shallowly, panting as he continued to empty inside her. Asch had no idea how it all stayed inside her, it felt so warm and heavy. 

 

Once the shocks of pleasure died away Malfurion slumps back, exhausted. 

 

There seemed no end to this, not as though it wasn’t pleasant. Malfurion felt like he was on a cloud, floating through a haze, he imagines Asch feeling the same now, practically asleep in his lap. 

 

She was surprisingly affectionate, but Malfurion attributed that to her being high on pleasure and stuck on his knot. He heard from a few other Druids that it was suppose to be a very pleasant experience, still Tyrande wouldn’t be convinced to try it. 

 

 

Malfurion soured. Tyrande. What would she think? Xavius would tell her, she would find out somehow. Would she be angry? Of course she would be. It wasn’t his fault, he could try and reason that. There was no doubt this girl would fall pregnant, but Malfurion supposed that was exactly what Xavius was hoping for. 

 

Maybe she could be swayed to get rid of it, Malfurion didn’t like the idea, but what sense was there to keep it? Malfurion had forced himself upon her and Asch, this poor girl didn’t even know who he was. 

 

This only mattered if they were rescued at all. 

 

Malfurion had faith that his loyal, beloved wife would find a way to save him, and all the  others trapped in the nightmare that he wished to help.

 

Malfurion had no doubt this would drive a wedge between them, whether his marriage could survive was another question. 

 

 

Malfurion was lulled from his worried thoughts when Asch squirmed against him, uncomfortable grunts escaping her tightly pressed mouth. His knot in all this time had shrunk a little, just enough that everything inside begun to ooze out around his cock.

 

 

It felt very strange, sticky. Malfurion could tell Asch was very uncomfortable with what was happening by the sheer look on her face. “There’s so... much” she mutters, watching it drain down their thighs “are you... are we untied?” Malfurion tires to pull out, only to tug their join. Asch whimpers, but Malfurion’s eyes roll, gushing anew. 

 

“No more...” She whines, lip caught in a pout, Malfurion can’t help but chuckle, Asch glances back at him with a furious look on her face “you smell so good,” he mumbles before thinking. Asch did smell good. She smelt like him and warm chocolate. 

 

Asch didn’t look as amused as he did about it and swats at him “it’s getting everywhere.” The sight of his cum all over her thighs made something primal tug inside of him, he felt like a wolf marking his territory. 

 

It felt very good. 

 

 

“I’ll clean you,” the idea made unreasonably upset, but he ignored that for now. “How?” Asch mutters, looking around lost for something they could use. Malfurion licks his lips. 

 

“How do you think?” Without really meaning to he licks the whole of her ear, leaving a wet tails to the tip. The idea of cleaning it off upset him, butt he idea of his tongue doing it softened the burn a little. 

 

Asch went ridged against him as she put it together, cunt squeezing him. She must have liked the idea too. 

 

 

Asch fidgets again, this time her face worried and scared “do... do you think he’ll make us... again?” Her face was blotched with a dark blush, Malfurion nuzzles his nose into her shoulder, touching her wound “I have no doubt in my mind, Asch.” 

 

 

 

Chapter 103: Lilli dabbles 2

Summary:

Illidan Stormrage/original female characters

 

Ah! This is my first art trade! A super wonderful friend of mine wanted to do one! I made her this and she’s going to make an art piece of my OC Asch! I’m so very excited!

Enjoy my lovely!

Chapter Text

Lilli gasps wetly, the air was stale and humid. Her already wet skin chafes, wrists rubbed raw at the leather scrap tying her to he bed. 

 

 

Th sheets were sticky and ruined long ago, the silk burnt as it brushed her naked thighs, tickling the wounds there. 

 

 

The bed itself was vast, beautiful before she got here. It’s black sheets and covers had long since crumpled to the floor, left to gather dust and mold. Lilli shakes her hair free from her face, snarling quietly as she tried again to free herself, enticing a laugh deep from her captors chest. 

 

 

Illidan Stormrage.

 

“Struggling makes it worse,” his voice irritated her terribly, the smugness in it, the absolute know-it-all tone it had.

 

Lilli twists again and almost can’t hide her cry of pain. Prick. 

 

“Are you so eager to be free?” His stomping steps echo through the room, her soft ears perk as he comes to stop next to her, eyes blazing beyond the cloth hiding them “what would do? Escape?” The idea makes him laugh, shake his head “an imp could kill you.” 

 

Lilli hates how right he was, instead she snarls defiantly, chains jostling agasint the bedpost “haven’t you learnt how to behave by now?” Illidan snaps, though his words held no threat “another lesson may do you good.” 

 

 

Illidan was deceptively warm, Lilli let a content sigh escape her mouth as he climbs to shadow her form with his own. His hands already sliding into place on her wide hips, clawing at the bruises, making her hiss and pull away “be good, pet.” Lilli bites at him, grabbing his skin with her teeth, Illidan chuckles deeply, the sound vibrating her whole body.

 

His skin was rough and tasted like fel. Lilli spits his flesh from her mouth, curling in disgust “you must know by now nothing you do can hurt me.” Lilli knew. Of course she would always try. 

 

 

Lilli gasps loudly, surprised as one of his fingers snake between her legs, Illidan chuckles, pushing his fingers into her heat “I hate you,” she hisses without any real force, Illidan coos “do you now?” His fingers distract her, the pads of his fingers pressing against all her sensitive spots. 

 

It was like he knew her. 

 

“Do you hate this?” His hand was slowing to a dragging halt, Lilli wiggles her hips. If Illidan’s hand wasn’t holding her still it would have worked. “D-don’t stop!” She grounds out, grinding her teeth at the sound of his smile.

 

“Don’t stop what?” He wasn’t asking her...

 

His hand stopped completely.” 

 

Lilli freezes, blood boiling. Arrogant- absense- “master.” She hisses out dangerously, snapping her teeth. “Was that so hard?” Lilli jerks violently, growling at him. 

 

 

His fingers return to there rubbing, pulling sounds Lilli wouldn’t admit to making. Illidan continues to tease, denying her finish as he does as he pleases, licking and biting, tearing at her skin with his claws. 

 

Lilli grunts and moans in pain at his treatment, blushing at the sound of of him purring. “Such a good girl. Ask for my cock, pretty girl.” Lilli bites her lip raw, drawing blood and debating in her head whether it was worth it.

 

 

It was.

 

 

“P-please give me... ah- give your cock... master-!” His fingers withdraw and she can hear him sucking off her juices, she desperately tries to ignore how that makes her feel. 

 

The blunt soft head of his cock pressed into her abused opening, popping in and out shallowly, once again abusing her “Illidan-“ she snaps, pushing her ass into his hands. The demon above her chuckles, relenting finally. 

 

The pressure of his cock was less then it had been before, her cunt now used to his massive length, filling her completely. Illidan huffs into her hair, apparently not as accustom to it. 

 

“Gods,” he mutters, marvelling at the tightness, Lilli huffs, shaking her ass into his pelvis “move dammit!” Illidan’s basking shatters at her demanding bark “be good or I will leave you like this.” Lilli’s teeth click together so fast she felt dizzy from the pain.

 

Illidan has done that before. He would do it again. 

 

Illidan always started slow, something Lilli wouldn’t complain about, not matter how many times they were together it was best don’t slowly, save from pain that wasn’t wanted. 

 

His mouth was good at keeping her mind busy, making trails up her spine with nips and little kisses that felt a little to loving. Lilli moans as his hips push his cock into her, massaging her walls as it pulsed angrily. 

 

 

“Harder-“ she begs, then says “please master!” Illidan responds by jabbing his cock into her, smiling along her spine as she wails in pleasure. 

 

“Humans are so delicate,” he purrs, raking his claws down her pink back, creating razed thin cuts with careful percision, it gave Illidan the desired affect on her. Lilli squirms, whining as his cock continued to punish her, squeezing every sound from her raw throat.

 

 

“Inside?” He asks, breathless and wanting. Illidan May be cruel but he always asked permission before he finished, usually Lilli likes it inside but today, she shakes her head, moaning in delight as his hips begin to roughly stab into her ass, seeking his finish. Another small kindness was he wouldn’t leave her unsatisfied. Those clever fingers press and twirl agasint her puffy bud, drawing obsense sounds from her mouth.

 

 

Lilli didn’t care what it sounded like anymore and let the wave take her. Illidan howls, releasing on her back, cock throbbing between her cheeks and he aimlessly thrusts, chasing his pleasure a little longer. 

 

 

Lilli feels the tie loosen and Illidan drops her into the bed, her back was sore and wirsts caked in blood. Drowsy and out of it, she barely felt the warm, wet cloth cleaning the mess he left. 

 

She does feel his kisses, lovingly pressed to her wet skin. Lilli allows a smile show on her face as she watches him, “master,” she teases, lifting her foot to press into his shoulder. Illidan smiles softly.

 

 

There moment was ruined by a cough. 

 

 

Illidan’s head jerks over his shoulder, barely under the frame of his wing Lilli can see five or more demon hunters standing in the entrance, staring with open mouths and ruddy cheeks. 

 

Illidan snarls. 

 

 

Peace was so fleeting. 

Chapter 104: Malfurion/Xavius dabbles 2

Summary:

Malfurion Stormrage/Original female elf

Chapter Text

 

Malfurion felt guilty because he felt no guilt. When he thought of his wife, his love, there was no guilt. 

 

No pain from betraying her anymore, not an ounce of remorse as he licked the mess from  Asch’s thighs, a mess of his own making. 

 

A mess caused by Xavius. 

 

This day the lord of Nightmare had came, smug and victorious as Malfurion only knew him to be. He mocked Malfurion as always and cooed insulting things to Asch, who merely hid in Malfurion’s arms, desperately trying to ignore him. 

 

 

But Xavius would not be ignored. 

 

“Look at you,” he snarls, “you love this.” Malfurion’s face colours, he tried to withdraw himself, but his cock twitched  between his legs at the words and Xavius purrs “what would your dear wife think?” Tyrande would be appealed, she would never allow him to finish in inside of her, let alone lick it from her. 

 

Malfurion closed his eyes and focused on the warmth under his tongue, the tangy taste of both their leavings in his mouth. 

 

“How did it feel, Malfurion?” He taunts, nails clicking into the wooden table “to knot inside something so warm and willing and so pretty?” Euphoric was too soft a word to discribe it. 

 

“She took it so well, didn’t she?” Xavius coos, “you want it again, don’t you?” A pathetic noise came out the back of Malfurion’s throat before he could stop it, his claws split the wood beneath them. Xavius laughs fully “ask nicely.” 

 

 

Malfurion licks up her thigh, swallowing a whimper “please- please let me...” Xavius coos, watching the mighty Druid whine and fidget “I thought,” Xavius begins, smug and powerful “it would take longer to break you. If I had known all those years ago that all it took to reduce you too nothing was a beautiful girl on your cock...” he trails off, smiling dangerously. 

 

“Go on,” before he can finish Malfurion pulls Asch into his lap, right into his cock, ravaging her mouth while grabbing everything he could. Asch moans obsensely, back arching at the full feeling. Xavius hums, listening to the wet slap of their hips, the little moans coming out of Malfurion. 

 

 

It had been a mere handful of days, but finally. Finally he reduced the Druid into a begging, pleading mess of man. Xavius signals for one of his guards, licking his lips as he whispers “let them through. At my signal unlock those doors.” 

 

Leaning forward to watch intently, he says “we shall see just how broken he really is...” 

 

“Oh... oh Mal-“ Asch chokes on her words as his cock spears her, hands desperately pulling at his hair and clawing at his neck, now blooming with scratches and marks made over days passed. 

 

Malfurion holds her, snarling openly as he pulls her thighs apart, rocking his hips into her with savage force, making sure she felt every once of pressure. Xavius grins, he’s never seen the archdruid so unhinged. 

 

“Oh- hah...ah...” Xavius sees the bliss cross over his face, the boyish blush. How precious. Xavius watches Malfurion hump into her mindlessly, and the girl takes it wailing, spreading herself so he can force himself deeper. 

 

The bulge of his knot catches on her rim, desperately trying to latch on, pulsing red. “Malfurion?” Xavius calls in a singsong voice, amused as the Druids hips faulter and confusion crosses his face “touch her,” his mind was addled and didn’t understand what Xavius told him for a moment, then went at the command with vigour, thumb swiping against her clit over and over, Asch couldn’t stem the sounds coming out of her mouth. 

 

“Ah- ah- ah!” She’s trembling, her whole body shaking apart like an earthquake. Fists pull Malfurion’s hair, forcing him into a bruising kiss, “so greedy- is Tyrande this selfish?” Malfurion’s eyes glare at him, hot and angry, full of open emotion. Xavius smirks, those eyes were eyes of a man made beast.

 

Malfurion ignores him after seconds, returning her furious kiss with passion only he had. Xavius watches his hand twist between their pressed bodies, her juices run down her legs and into the floor, pooling between Malfurion’s open legs. From this angle Xavius can see how wide his knot forces her open, the stretch around the impressive length, now he was jealous. 

 

 

Xavius didn’t allow it to consume like he desperately wanted, instead he bites his tongue, leaning away and sniffing the air. The smell of sex and sweat and something lingers in the room, frothing in the walls, Xavius almost choked on it when he first returned. Over the passed days the two became inseparable, it was almost endearing how he guarded the girl, the plan was going along perfectly. 

 

 

Malfurion was attached, consumed by his feelings. Nothing pleased the nightmare lord more. 

 

 

“Ah- Mal!” The rapid crest of pleasure dawns on her face, tight and begging. Tears fell down her cheeks and Malfurion, halting his assault on her lips kisses each one away, licking the trail before nipping at her puffy, raw lips anew.

 

The protrusion of his knot grinds up into her, not quite full but nearly ready, Asch keens, the thrusts turn jagged, sloppy as Malfurion tired to desperately bury himself, hissing a string of curses. 

 

Malfurion forces a few more punishing thrusts into her before bearing down, heaving a horse cry as his knot flares, finally catching. Asch whines out her own completion, shoulders tightening, hands clawing at his forearms. Malfurion pants, mouth snarling and teeth clintched while another wave shakes through him, no doubt filling Asch with sticky warmth. 

 

The hips pressed flush against hers don’t pause, Asch brokenly slumps agasint him, shaking her head at his little thrusts “no- no more...” Her voice is raw, overused and dry from screams. Malfurion nods, but isn’t listening. Rather, edging his knot further into the grasping heat, a final shutter escapes his wet lips, legs trembling with effort to hold them up now. 

 

 

Xavius tuts after a while of just watching the two, gaining their attention “does it hurt you? That Tyrande doesn’t want it?” His gaze falls on the swelled knot, pulsing inside her cunt “that this girl does?” 

 

Malfurion breath is laboured, his eyes drooping from exhaustion “you... you already know the- the answer,” he struggles to say it, all defiance lost. Yes, Xavius did know the answer.

 

Smiling he pets the Druids hair, chest full of victory. Xavius signals over his shoulder, standing before them. The guards hurry out the door. 

 

“I hope she adores you.” The girl looks at him with a beautiful haze in her eyes and Xavius cackles madly. 

 

 

 

Tyrande didn’t like the nightmare at all, crawling with fowl Satyr and shades of Xavius, mocking at every turn. The adventurers she stole from Khadgar’s campaign weren’t happy with her in the slightest, their first fight didn’t end well and the putrid smell of poison clung to their armour and weapons. Tyrande tried to ignore how her hair matted around her jewelled crown, instead focusing on her beloved, where he might be kept. 

 

 

Two dwarves were faster then the rest and loudly chatted beside her, musing over the Dragon of nightmare, Nythendra. Complaining about the smell and bug bites. 

 

“Do ye’ suppose we’ll hav’ta kill Xavius to find ya’ husband?” One- Myra says, picking sticky green blood from her weapon, cringing as she threw it on the reddish black floor “likely,” the other, Lily complains “What was he doin’ here in the first place?” Tyrande schools her frown, “Xavius kept our people as slaves. My beloved wished to free them.” 

 

 

Myra snorts, “alone?” The two women share a look “mighty stupid o’ him Priestess- why wouldn’t he get sum’ help?” Tyrande scowls at the bare path ahead of them, everywhere they had been so far had been covered by guards and monstrosities, but this black hallway was vacant and eerie. 

 

“Weapons ready!” She barks, ignoring the girls. “This is most certainly a trap.” 

 

The door was ajar at the far end, barest hint of lights escaping, illuminating it just enough Tyrande could see the path leading up too it. 

 

 

Asch giggles softly, kissing his face while Malfurion smiles “Illidan was furious with me,” he says with great fondness “wouldn’t speak to me for weeks!” Asch shakes her head “how could you do that? Terrible!” Malfurion could tell her worse, Illidan deserved it. “The girls liked it.” Asch huffs “making your brother run naked through a school of priestess’- how cruel.” Tyrande was the only one upset about it- her and their superiors of course. Malfurion got into lots of trouble when his shan’do found out.

 

Still the look on Illidan’s face made it worth it.

 

“Oh-“ Asch squeaks, Malfurion sighs in delight, purring as he came “it’s so warm,” she coos, kissing the side of his nose “s’good?” He slurs, hips jutting minutely, Asch wiggles, creating more friction “mhm- don’t stop...” Malfurion grins against her neck, “hold on,” he murmurs, hands bracing on the floor for leverage. 

 

Asch grabs hold of his arms, legs secured around his waist as he thrusts gently up and into her. Malfurion’s knees crack in protest, but he ignores them, favouring the feeling around his cock. “Ahh- hah- please,” Asch begs, panting wetly in his ear, Malfurion complies, using his knees to push his whole body up, rolling his hips just enough to tug his knot. 

 

Asch keens loudly, but the sound is deafend by the clap of a door smacking into the far wall. Malfurion ignores it and continues thrusting into Asch, attributing it too Xavius’ return. Either he would linger and mock him or realize they hadn’t untied and leave. 

 

 

But the voice that rings out isn’t the rasp of his captor, it was so much worse than that. 

 

“Beloved?!” 

 

At first everything stopped for Malfurion, his breathing, the pleasure between his legs, his heart. 

 

No. It couldn’t be. 

 

It was a trick, Xavius must be tricking him to be cruel. 

 

“W-what is this?” Tyrande utters, completely shocked “Malfurion- my love- who... are you-“ his wife can’t form words for what she was seeing. Her husband was-

 

He was- Tyrande’a eyes screw shut and pain claws at her heart. 

 

“Archdruid.. we’ve.. come to save you...” one of the humans Tyrande brought with her says awkwardly, looking anywhere he could “we um. Please... come with us.” 

 

Malfurion’s mouth hangs open, finally he lifts his arm from it's ridged spot and covers everything he could. 

 

“My lord- we- we have to leave.” The human says again, a pleading tone. 

 

“I-I...” Malfurion sputters “I can’t.” Asch has resigned to hiding in his skin, face pressed into his sweaty neck, completely still against him. 

 

“What... what do you mean you can’t?” Another squeaks, embarrassed as they should be. Beside Tyrande the dwarves are laughing, as if it was funny “are you stuck?” Myra says with a great snort “stand up man, we haven’t got all day!” 

 

Her foot taps impatiently, Malfurion swallows “I- I’m... I've... knotted.” Malfurion sucks his teeth, “I... cannot stand- hah-!” Asch yelps, feeling his cock pulse again, Malfurion groans, shame blooming fresh on his face. 

 

“Oh.” Myra mutters, “oh...” Lily mirrors, “he’s. He’s stuck stuck.” Most of the group looks confused, but a wretched noise escapes Tyrande and she’s barking at them “enough! Just- enough! Help them and let us be done here!” 

 

“Um. Ugh-“ the human scrambles to say something “get a blanket- get- get something!” The man stalks toward them, Malfurion glares at him flatly, he was walking as if he was approaching frightened animals.

 

Malfurion ignores how that makes him feel overall. 

 

“Can you stand- at all?” Malfurion shakes his head, angling his feathers so they couldn’t see anything indecent. Not as if it did anything, everyone must have already saw it all. 

 

“My lord- please we can’t- we have to go.” Malfurion feels his body shake, shuttering quietly as Asch whimpers “I- I’ll try.” 

 

Standing was the most uncomfortable thing Malfurion had to do in his life. Tyrande didn’t stay a moment longer after she yelled her orders, Malfurion surprisingly wasn’t worried in the slightest. 

 

He didn’t feel bad either. 

 

The human that asked after a blanket draped it over Malfurion’s hunched shoulders, helping him carefully wrap one end to the other, backing off as quickly as he could. 

 

 

Malfurion was agitated. 

 

 

Asch whines in distress, panting against his chest “shh,” he tries to sooth, shuffling along the best he could without moving her “you’re safe, I’ll keep you safe.” 

 

 

Now Malfurion wasn’t sure he was safe however.

 

 

Their tie had come loose after they had returned to Darnassus, Malfurion, much to his wife’s irritation had taken Asch to a guest room and cleaned the mess as best he could. Asch was extremely upset, for obvious reasons. Malfurion was upset too, he couldn’t place what was, but he knew it wasn’t because his marriage was most defiantly doomed. 

 

“I will return, I promise- we will talk about this, all of it.” Malfurion kisses her head before he leaves her, looking back with an aching heart.

 

 

Tyrande was furious. 

 

“How could you?!” Malfurion had told her over and over what had happened, what Xavius forced him to do with Asch, his voice was becoming tired with all the repeating.

 

 

Still her beautiful face twists, “Xavius was not there when we found you!” Malfurion’s eyes snap shut, “you- you... knotted... Malfurion!” Her voice wavers, he could hear her almost want to cry, but as strong as ever she didn’t. 

 

“He forced me too-“ “you didn’t have to like it!” Malfurion scrubs his face, sighing. If only she knew what it felt like. She would know why he liked it. 

 

“What then? What will be done now?! With her that- that- girl!” Malfurion’s lip twist “and what comes of this- betrayal!” Malfurion feels his stomach lurch badly, with what happened there would surly be something to come next.

 

A baby. Malfurion and Tyrande never talked about babies. 

 

 

“We don’t know if she’s-“ “you finished inside of her! There was a- a puddle of it!” Embarrassment was a well known feeling by now. “Tyrande you aren’t suggesting she... get rid of it? If there is...” her face was stone, set in a frown. Malfurion couldn’t believe it.

 

“No- no! Tyrande no!” Malfurion shakes his head curtly “I will not allow that!” His wife’s eyes were blazing, fury in her face “you expect her to stay here and have your baby under my temple?! I will not have your mistress in my home!” Malfurion felt sick, dizzy at her barking. 

 

“What am I suppose to do Tyrande? Xavius forced us into- into that and what comes of it is my responsibly.” He steels himself “if she is pregnant then I cannot abandon her,” a pained sigh “she has nothing, no one Tyrande.” 

 

There was a terribly long silence. 

 

“I cannot undo what has been done, Tyrande.” She looks wounded as he speaks her name, like he had lost the privilege. He likely had. 

 

 

“Get out. Take her and get out! I will have nothing to do with you!” Malfurion already knew this would happen, in fact he felt no pain at her rejection. 

 

“We are finished.” 

 

He did not look back as he left, Tyrande did. 

 

 

Asch was where he left her, smoothing out the white dress he gave her before leaving. She looked so small and pretty under the moonlight shining from the window. Her pale eyes look up at him “did I ruin your marriage?” Malfurion smiles sadly, shaking his head “no Asch.” She didn’t believe him he knew, but didn’t turn away as his lips press into hers, a small comfort.

 

“Our time here is finished,” he mutters, forehead pressed into hers “let me take you home.” 

 

 

Chapter 105: Koltira dabbles 3

Summary:

Koltira Deathweaver/Original female elf

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

 

Night descended upon the land, making it eerie and black. The snow looked dark and deathly.

 

As soon as Koltira stepped in the snow and his boots sunk he knew one thing.

 

Only one of them would be walking. 

 

 

Asch tried to step in the snow, she was delicate enough to not break it and light enough to walk over, but Koltira saw the shiver pass through her bones and plucked her from the ground immediately. Asch yipped quietly, clinging to him as if he would drop her. “Just keep warm,” he says at her fretting, why she bothered was a mystery. She weighted nothing. 

 

 

Koltira knew they would be walking for hours, give or take depending on how forgiving the snow would be. So far it had been kind but as they passed under rocks overhanging it became steeper and cruel. Koltira struggles quietly, as lifting his feet from the dunes they made became harder and steeper, and all the while Asch clings to him like a second skin, breathing softly against the cords of his throat. At least that was nice, when he became frustrated her breathing leveled him out. 

 

Almost half the night went by before Koltira saw the tournament, ear peeking at the sudden spotting of people. 

 

At first he saw the ramparts if the tournament, then the little figures manning them, elves. Her kind of elves! 

 

“Look there little elf,” he says, head held high and proud. Asch glances and her ears jolt against his head, surprised as he was. Koltira moves a little quicker now, forcing himself not to stumble.

 

 

At fist no one noticed them, then he could see three pointing their way and calling to open the gate. From the mouth Koltira saw more than eight armed soldiers, all fixed upon him. 

 

Koltira sighs. He should have figured. 

 

“Peace!” Asch calls from his arms, “Peace please!” Koltira halts, waiting for them to make a move. Not that he could do anything, he was at their mercy. 

 

“Speak scourge!” The man in the middle was a high elf, he looked to be a high ranking officer. 

 

Still Koltira held his head and spoke commandingly “I am returning what has been taken.” At his words Asch wiggles to her feet, standing against him “I was enslaved by Arthas- this man has been kind enough to bring me here to safety.” The commander snorts at this, his steed shifting in the snow “Has he? What brought on this stroke of kindness?” Koltira watches her frown at his mocking tone. 

 

“I-I don’t know,” she says timidly “I’m not the only one- we were brought in cages and told we- we were to service our new m-master.” The guards get a sickened, pained look about them, uncomfortable at the unsaid things floating around them. 

 

 

“Take her,” Koltira says forcefully, nudging her in their direction “I have no use of such things. All I ask is safe passage in return.” 

 

For a moment everyone looks at the commander for a decision, “we will take her.” A rush of relief passes through him. “Seize him!” Asch is wretched from his side, “No! He did nothing!” The commander laughs at this. “He’s responsible for hundreds of deaths, returning one whore does not absolve him.” Koltira watches the hurt in her face, the absolutely disbelief as they push he behind them. 

 

 

Koltira is shoved into the snow and chained.

 

The last thing he saw was Asch, crying. As the world went black all he could think was that she was crying for him. 

 

When he awoke the first thing he felt was pressure around his neck, legs and hands. Upon looking at himself he found thick chains. Impossible to freeze off or break. Looking around he blinks drowsy eyes, it was dark and wet, a terrible combination. 

 

His armour was lost, likely broken and reused. “My lord!” He hears gasped beyond the bars. Asch.

 

The beautiful elf was clutching the steel bars with white knuckled force, her skirts were falling into his cage like pink clouds. “Call me... Koltira-“ he chokes around the collar, tears fall down her face.

 

“It suits you,” he says with difficulty, “Th-that dress.” Behind her the door slammed open, carrying with it the commander they met before. He looked angry and unforgiving, “Scourge whore here to see her master?” he snarls. Koltira glares hotly “She is no one's whore and I did not bring her here for you to reduce her to that!” 

 

The commander smirks nastily “Look at that pride. Maybe you are still like us.” Koltira holds his nose up in mockery, “Why did you do this then? To spy? Worm your way into our ranks?” Koltira’s face twists, “Why bother? The Lich King's army could reduce this place to undeath. You know this to be true.” The commander did, he also knew that the only reason the tournament grounds still stand is because it amuses Arthas. 

 

“As I have said before commander, I brought her here because the fate of a slave does not become of her.” The commander eyes him suspiciously, trying to find something in his lichfire eyes, what Koltira could not say. 

 

“Death knight do you hold affection for her?” This stuns him. Thassarian made jokes of this, but never actually asked him such. “Guards.” With a wave of his finger Asch is grabbed and pulled behind one of their knives. “What are you doing?” Koltira demands, eyes wide, “She has no part in this!” Something in his stomach twisted violently.

 

“Do you?” Koltira swallows around the chains, watching her struggle against the guard that held her tightly, the knife jerks and Koltira felt himself respond before he could stop himself “yes! Yes- enough! Let her go!” The guard shoves her away from him, Asch fell onto the dirt floor and Koltira jerks around his binds. 

 

 

“What is this?!” Barks another voice from beyond the door. Everyone jerks to the booming voice, steps even louder as they finally came into view.

 

Lord Tirion Fordring. 

 

“My lord!” The commander yelps, flinching out of his way, Tirion ignored him, going straight for Asch. “My dear are you alright?” Koltira watches him help her up, wiping away the dirt on her dress, “Shame you bloody fools! Shame in hurting a lady!” The guards shrink at his voice. 

 

 

“What is the meaning of this? Speak now!” The commander stumbles, “It- it’s a death knight my- my lord!” Tirion eyes Koltira before looking between them all, “And this lady?” Asch shrivels in his gentle hold, “S-she was brought w-with him.” Tirion frowns at the commander, instead turning to Asch with a kinder face.

 

“My dear please explain this?” Asch retells her tale again, watching his face soften. “Is this true Death knight?” Koltira nods, not bothering to stress his voice. Tirion muses for a moment, looking at Koltira. “You were not at Light’s hope were you?” Koltira blinks, “no- what? How long have I been here?” Tirion ponders this, “more than a week” Asch supplies, timid and almost unheard. 

 

 

“What happened at Light’s hope?” Koltira decides to ignore the time wasted “Arthas foolishly engaged us upon holy ground. With Ashbringer I was able to free every Deathknight battling against my forces. Your comrades are no longer under the servitude of the Lich king.” Koltira says nothing to this, far too shocked for words. 

 

“Unchain him, I will cleanse him myself.” Tirion demands, turning fully around to the exit, “Come along my dear this is no place for a lady.” Asch worriedly looks back at Koltira, who offers a small smile. “Go with him.” At his leave Asch scurries to catch up, Koltira listens to the soft pads of her feet climb the stairs. 

 

Koltira didn’t know what to expect once they came out of the prisons, around him were many different kinds of people, many Horde and many Alliance, even High King Varian was present by the ramparts. 

 

Tirion brought up the Ashbringer and in the middle of the grounds a flash of pure light blasted out from the golden hand and Koltira suddenly felt a heaviness taken from his mind. 

 

So many people were watching the scene, looking at Koltira as if he would lash out, as if it didn’t work. But Koltira does not move, every feel suppressed by his enslavement came full force and all he could do was succumb to it. 

 

Koltira didn’t notice that he fell to his knees until Asch pulled him to her, “I-I feel...” he mutters, unsure of what to do. 

 

 

“Find them a place to sleep. Death Knight?” Clouded eyes look up at Tirion, “There is much to discuss.” Koltira barely nods. 

 

He was so tired. 

Notes:

EDITED 17/JAN/2019

Chapter 106: Malfurion/Xavius dabbles 3

Summary:

Malfurion Stormrage/Original female characters

Chapter Text

Home was a house meant for both Illidan and Malfurion, one they shared after their parents past on. 

 

Illidan wanted it kept in the family, but never set foot into after their parents died. Malfurion came often enough to keep it well maintained, the house was larger then most.

 

It’s base was carved from a grand tree surrounded by a gathering of brush, secluded from the handful of neighbours Malfurion never knew growing up. 

 

Lighting the fire brought warmth back into the old house, the light from outside shows how ancient it was. 

 

It stood before either of the brothers and it would stand well after they were gone. 

 

The hearth was in the centre of the home, two sets of curved stairs draw behind it, Malfurion knew the master bed was directly behind the fireplace, and in the trunk were stairs leading to their old rooms, the left his and the right was Illidan’s. 

 

Malfurion had brought Tyrande here a long time ago, but after they had grown older and married she wouldn’t return.

 

Asch walked carefully in the room Malfurion remembers as the dinning room, it was bare and wide, once it held their family table and the matching chairs. He and Illidan decided to throw most of the furniture.

 

Malfurion realizes they would have need of it again. 

 

 

“You don’t have to be careful,” he says fondly, watching her step on her toes, barely making a sound “oh- I just...” Malfurion tuts “you are welcome here. I would like you too think of this as your home.” 

 

Asch’s eyes go wide and tears prickle in the corners “this... this is too much,” she mutters “I’ve... you shouldn’t- all this...” Malfurion’s head tilts “I ruined your marriage and you’re giving me a house...” 

 

Asch wipes her eyes, sniffling “you don’t even know who I am a-and-“ Malfurion hushes her, shaking his head “then tell me something I don’t know?” Asch bites her lip, regarding him with a worried frown “I had a brother and his name was Ryonn.” 

 

 

“What else?” 

 

“I- I wanted to be a Warden.” Malfurion hums, “want. You want to be a Warden.” Asch blinks at him, confused “but I-“ “you can still become one. If you wish.” This sparks something in her beautiful eyes, Malfurion thinks its excitement, but it also looks like fear. 

 

“Tell me more.” 

 

 

Asch used to like being outside before the war, bubble bathes and the sky the first time she saw it again.

 

Despite being in his lap surrounded by people she didn’t know and naked. 

 

“There’s this spot,” Malfurion says, smiling in remembrance “where you can see stars perfectly in the yard.” Asch gasps in amazement, looking up at the sky. It was late in the day, no where near the time stars would be out.

 

“Illidan found it, we would sit outside for hours just looking at the stars. I’ll show you if it isn’t cloudy.” Asch’s smile is shaky, sad “my... my brother- we lived near a pond and he would scare the fireflies out of the bushes. It was beautiful.”

 

 

Malfurion grins, “there are fireflies here. Would you like to go find them?

 

 

Asch springs up in excitement “oh please!”

 

 

Malfurion hadn’t gone looking for fireflies in years, ages. The sky had gone dark since they started, Asch found dozens of fireflies, holding them in her hands before letting them fly away giggling as they lit up the night. 

 

“Wait- look,” he calls pointing to the sky, Asch hurries to his side, immediately mesmerized by the stars. Malfurion pulls her in front of him, smiling up at the stars he loved so much as a child.

 

“It’s amazing- it’s... it’s wonderful Malfurion.” Her eyes look up at him, glowing just like the stars. Malfurion didn’t miss how his heart squeezed. 

 

“Come, we should sleep.”

 

 

The few things that stayed untouched were the bedrooms, at Malfurion’s insistence. Illidan didn’t like it, said it was too sentimental. Now he was glad for it.

 

From the closet he pulled blankets for the master bed, remembering the pattern that always occupied his parents bed, he brushed over the the sheer black covers Illidan used to use and grabbed his own. 

 

 

Asch helped him dress the bed and sat on it delicately as he finished brushing the ends. Malfurion remembers seeing him and Illidan sitting there, looking out the window at the stars, but Asch was looking at him, smiling at him instead of the stars.

 

“If you need anything, I’ll be in the other room.” She looks hesitant, like she wanted to stop him, but she nods, smiling even though her eyes looked sad. 

 

Malfurion closed the door behind him and sighed. Why did his chest hurt so much?

 

 

The bed in his room was far to small to fit him now, but he didn’t mind. Around the space were many different kinds of plant life, pots of herbs and dried flowers. Braided vines hanging in front of the window over his bed, Malfurion twisted them in his fingers, smelling the little white flowers blooming. 

 

 

 

Asch felt lonely, strange. The moon shined through the clouds, filtering light all around the bedroom, just like fireflies.

 

 

There wasn’t much in the room besides a grand desk against the far wall and a comfy looking chair. 

 

Asch lays on the pillows, staring up at the wood carved ceiling, marveling at the rings in the wood, finally letting sleep take her. 

 

 

 

Malfurion heard the soft roll of thunder outside and was glad they went inside when they had. Storms had a tendency to be terrible here. Malfurion smiles softly, he did miss this place.

 

 

When lightening crashed moments after he wasn’t surprised by the sound, comforted as his eyes fluttered shut. Malfurion thinks he could have fallen asleep with the mighty crackling above him, if not for the absolute terrified scream that came from the room beyond.

 

 

Malfurion fell out of his childhood bed in attempt to get up in a hurry.

 

“Asch?!” He calls, pushing open the door, on the bed Asch was curled, head in her hands and shaking. 

 

“What’s wrong?” It never occurred to him that she may have never heard the sound of thunder or even rain before, or at least forgotten it all together by now.

 

“W-w-what was-“ “thunder, just thunder” he soothes, “come here.” Malfurion climbed into the bed, making the mattress sink considerably under his weight, lightening cracked again behind them, lighting up the dark room in a flash.

 

Asch whimpers, hiding her face in his chest “it’s alright, don’t be afraid” Malfurion hopes she won’t be, this place was the reason his family name was Stormrage. 

 

 

Malfurion coos, petting her hair as she shakes, “look,” his eyes aim outside, watching the thunder boom within the clouds, illuminating the soft edges of the black clouds. “It’s beautiful really,” Malfurion promises, smiling as she at least attempts to see. “It’s so l-loud.” He nods, chin brushing into her soft hair “it can be-“ another boom shakes the house, Asch’s breath hitches and she jumps in his lap. 

 

 

Malfurion looks down at her, Asch looks up at him and before he can stop, Malfurion leans forward, pressing their lips softly together. 

 

Asch sighs into his kiss, hands wandering into his hair. Malfurion wraps is arms around her, pulling her into her knees so he can deepen the kiss, smiling as another loud roll of thunder shakes the house. 

 

 

Malfurion pulls away just enough to see her face, dusted pink with blush, ears droopy and eyes far away. Using the leverage he had, Malfurion pushes just enough to have her falling into him, surprise overtaking her face as she stumbles into him. 

 

 

Malfurion laughs softly, watching her grab for purchase on his shoulders, Asch huffs, glaring at him. 

 

His lips reach for her again and this time she meets him, soft fingers pressed into his neck, tenderly shaking against the cords of his throat. She was nervous.  

 

Malfurion pulls one of her hands from his neck, squeezing it in his own. The kiss was tender, lips re-finding their way, committing to patterns learnt days past. 

 

Teeth click as Malfurion finds a more brutal and bruising rhythm, hand squeezing the flesh of her ribs, fingers defining each bone. Asch’s hips make an aborted thrust into his groin, whether intended or not it spurs Malfurion on, a half snarl, half hiss escaping his mouth, chest cresting with the effort of it. 

 

His hand travels, remembering the slope of her back as he tangled his fingers into the soft fluffed hair that smelt like chocolate, using the strands he tugs, pulling her lips off his and forcing a gasp out of her abused mouth. The assault is soft first, Malfurion licks marks he made from before that haven’t yet time to fade, sucking softly to add new ones. 

 

Fangs have little regard as the scrap against her supple skin, the danger of it makes Asch’s breath ripple, catch in her throat as Malfurion pinches it with his blunter teeth. 

From this angle he can see just the tip of the scar he made on her neck, one day soon he would have to tell her what that meant. 

 

Malfurion feels her swallow as he quests around her neck, eager tongue laving at the mostly untouched, sensitive spot just behind her ear. Asch’s thighs squeeze at his inquiry, the smell of arousal heavy in his nose now.

 

 

His bite makes her moan in his hair. 

 

Malfurion moves forward, deliberately letting her fall into the pillows, crawling over her with a lethargic, cat like prowling pace. Unlike all other times they shared, this time he wouldn’t be rushed, commanded to do anything he didn’t decide. Malfurion kisses her again and basks in the glory of control she allows him to have. 

 

Before long they’re pushing into each other like nervous virgins, both desperate for more, but not willing to cross that line. Malfurion sees the look in her eye, the wanton eagerness, the totally allowance and relinquish of control. 

 

 

But-

 

 

This was different, this was just them, both willing, both interested. Not forced by Xavius. 

 

He hesitates. 

 

 “Do... do you really like it...?” Malfurion suddenly asks, “m-my kn-knot?” The question terrified him, the rejection.

 

Asch pants, lips swollen, eyes drawn away “I-I...” Malfurion felted crushed. Of course she didn’t.

 

“It- it feels...” Malfurion’s breath picks up, heart pounding “s-so go-good in- in... inside- mhm!” Malfurion’s lips surge forward, reconnecting, hands greedily pawing at her hips. 

 

“Oh-“ Asch gasps out, Malfurion kisses her again, barely letting her take a breath, tongue slithering into her open mouth to deepen the kiss. Asch gives way, letting him consume her completely. Moaning into his mouth as he pulled at her dress, trying to get it over her thighs. 

 

Malfurion parts from her with a wet noise, “say I can...” he’s near begging, gripping at her dress, Asch’s chest is heaving, her mouth opened and puffy “p-please.” Malfurion groans, falling back into her embrace. 

 

Asch’s lips reconnect with his, hands in his hair tugging gently. Malfurion attacks her with his mouth, abandoning her neck after he marked it to his liking, moving lower to her soft chest.

 

Through her dress he nuzzles the slopes of her breasts, purring straight into her, Asch shutters, thighs squeezing together. Malfurion continues to lift her dress off, pleased that it was the only thing between them. 

 

“Up,” He coos softly, caressing her sides. Asch eases up, ducking under the fabric so he can throw it off. 

 

 

Malfurion saw her naked many times, but he never looked overlong, now he can’t take his eyes off the elf laying on his pillows. Asch’s skin was the softest shade of purple, her face unmarked still and oddly pure. Pale white hair fell around her face and fanned along the pillows, like a cloud passing in the sky it was feathery and only came down to her shoulders. 

 

 

Surprising, but she had little scarring, nothing Malfurion could see as he kisses his way back to her breasts, Asch squeaks as his tongue licks over her nipple, Malfurion glances up and is amused when he sees her eyes screwed shut. 

 

When Malfurion sucks, her back arches. 

 

Tyrande was never so responsive.

 

But then, he doesn’t remember a time when he could explore so much, his wife... ex-wife, knew what she liked since they were young, Malfurion never learnt what he liked, not until now that was.

 

Watching another person like this, nervous and squirming. He felt so young again. 

 

 

He felt adolescent, inexperienced as he mouthed her skin, wetting her navel and nipping at her hipbone. Asch gasps and squirms, fisting the bedsheets. Malfurion purrs agasint her belly, excited when her legs shake. 

 

“May I see?” He asks, petting her hip, wetting his lips. His antlers would just be out of the way for him to do this as he wanted, but he wouldn’t be opposed to having her stand over him again. Watching her chest heave and face grow hot from that angle was more than arousing to him. 

 

 

Asch’s fingers knead the sheets nervously before she just barely nods, face blooming in colour as he eased her legs open from her knees. 

 

Malfurion awed at her, breath catching and cock twitching in anticipation, he could already feel his knot throbbing. 

 

Malfurion swallows, pulling her leg to his chest, kissing the inside so tenderly it’s barely felt. Asch responds by lifting the other and spreading.

 

An invitation. He thinks, good...

 

Something inside of him switching, like his mind is dulling. Mate? His mind says, Malfurion watches her face. Mate.

 

She smells devine, chocolate and grass and him. Malfurion kisses her groin, nuzzling before poking his tongue out. Asch squirms in his hands, soft noises escape her mouth as he leisurely drags his tongue over her slit, parting the shiny lips with ease. 

 

Malfurion holds her legs up and open, enjoying when she tries to twist into his face, with aborted thrusts. Malfurion would not be rushed tonight.  

 

 

As the storm booms outside, pelting the window with loud pattering raindrops, the two inside hardly notice, far too consumed with each other, even as lighting crashes beyond, they ignore it. 

 

Malfurion buries his face between her warm thighs, tongue deep as he can have it inside of her, pushing it against her walls and laving at the wetness. Asch melts into the pillows, hands now in his forest green hair, twisting it in her pleasure. Malfurion only pauses to breathe before returning, continuing his efforts, enjoying the taste of cherry and chocolate in his mouth. 

 

The taste grows heavier, more of it spread on his tongue. Malfurion opens his eyes just a crack and grows hot watching her struggle, doubling his efforts he reaches for a hand, threading his fingers with hers as she comes in his mouth with a shout of his name.

 

“Mal... Mal- oh Mal...” she mutters in a mantra, dazed from pleasure and still twitching as he licks her clean. Malfurion preens as his name is spoken with utter love, adoring the way she says it. His cock begs for attention, but Malfurion continues to ignore it.

 

Softly, Malfurion kisses her again, gathering her attention “good?” He asks, already knowing the answer. Asch’s head bobs lazily, hands questing for his shoulders. Malfurion dips lower so she has what she wants. 

 

Asch pulls him in for more kisses, sloppy and sated, Malfurion would have found it amusing if not for the fact he feels her legs spread open inviting him between them. 

 

That he found arousing. 

 

“Yes?” Chokes out hesitantly, needing to hear her meaning, “please?” Asch asks, “can... can we now?” Malfurion feels the shiver run down from the top of his spine to the very tips of his toes

 

“O-of course” Asch- Elune. Asch presents again. 

 

Malfurion almost devours her that very second, watching her spread wide, arch her back and expose her neck like an animal in heat. Malfurion breathes heavier as he palms his cock, shaking as he pushes inside. 

 

Asch was so warm, perfectly fit around him, Malfurion didn’t stop pushing until his hips rocked into Asch. 

 

Malfurion hisses through his teeth, face buried in her skin, against his ear he can feel her heart beating, thrumming violently. Malfurion pulls his hips away, pushing them back and setting his pace, watching the pleasure appear on her face. 

 

Asch grabs from him, pulling him down until their foreheads rest together, Malfurion feels the stress in her brow against his own, he can hear the hitched gasps escaping her lips as he slowly draws his hips, easing back and forth. 

 

Asch kisses him lightly, breathlessly moaning in his face, meeting his gently motions with her own, raising her hips just enough the angle changes “ahh-“ she whines, twisting in his grip. Malfurion pauses just to watch her squirm on his cock before thrusting savagely, enjoying the way her cunt flutters around him like a second heart.

 

“Oh- oh- more- please-!” She gasps, body digging into the bed, Malfurion grabs purchase just under her ribs, thumbs strocking her soft, flat belly before using the leverage to fuck into her harder. The sounds of them bounced off the warm walls while the thunder rolled outside, Asch’s hands clutch at his, nails raking over his knuckles with each press of his hips. 

 

Malfurion leans as far away as he can, siting back on his haunches just so he could see his cock push inside, the shine coating his throbing cock and his knot, bulging at the base. 

 

“Here- come- here-“ she whines, trying to reach for him again, Malfurion chuckles softly, moan breaking through his throat as she squeezed around him, face in a pout “I want... to watch you- ah- take me,” at his words her face blooms in colour, a darkish purple blush flaming down to her perfect breasts.

 

“That- that’s...” she gasps, Malfurion watches her squeeze her eyes shut and hiss “so perfect,” he coos sweetly, petting her belly, “please-“ she begs. Malfurion lunches his hips almost painfully hard into her, making sure she could feel his knot before he says, “soon, not much... longer.” 

 

Malfurion had every intention of dragging it out as long as he could, he really did- but Asch. Asch frowns at him and without much, wiggles her hips, barring into his and Malfurion couldn’t pull away before it happened. 

 

With a half shout, half snarl his knot catches, ballooning and trapping them again. Asch coos, a smug and triumphant smile on her o shaped mouth. Malfurion bites her collarbone, huffing as she squeaks in delight. It was his own fault, he didn’t hold her down and allowed her to do it. Next time he would let no such thing happen.

 

Asch licks at his mouth, humming sweetly as he fills her, delighted that she got what she wanted, Malfurion would have scolded her, punished her for not listening but as she nose pokes into his cheek, Malfurion decides it isn’t worth it.

 

“Thank you,” Asch coos, soaking in the warmth of his skin as he lay on top of her, Malfurion grunts softly, swallowing as he rocks into her again, basking in the pleasure. 

 

 

The pleasure lulls after a while and Malfurion maneuvered then so he was on his back and she was on his chest, it would be easier to sleep like that, for now they lay awake, Asch brushing her fingers through his soft hair and sighing every so often.

 

Malfurion lay troubled, stroking her back and thinking. What would become of all this? What would his people think of him once news broke of their Archdruid committing adultery? What would his Shando think of him? 

 

What would the Alliance think of him?

 

Malfurion perks out of thought, Asch drawing him out of his stupor as she leaned up and sat on his hips, blanket falling away “what’s wrong?” She asks, worried. Malfurion never liked burdening other with his problems, that it was not theirs to bare- but Asch. 

 

She was very kind, Malfurion felt a pull inside of him that made him wish to speak, tell her all he could. 

 

“I am afraid,” he mutters, finger stroking her flat belly, watching as her soft breathing pushes it out slightly “of what will happen now, where I stand with my people. What will be thought of you- of us.” 

 

Asch stay quiet as he continues, watching his finger “I have no children of my own with Tyrande.” They had never spoken about it once. Malfurion never dared bring it up. “You I know- I know with everything I have that you are carrying my child.” He could not see, could not feel. But Malfurion knew. 

 

And it brought him great joy. 

 

Malfurion pokes just above her bellybutton, softly pushing the skin, Asch grabs his finger, gaining his attention “you can still fix things,” she says, voice wavering and sad “I won’t- I won’t keep it and you can-“ “no!” Suddenly he wretches up, eyes wide and horrified “Elune above no! I... I want-“ he huffs, annoyed at himself “I want it.” His heart clinched at the idea, aching so much in need. 

 

“You should be with your wife,” Asch says though pain, eyes drawn away to the storm behind them “with the one you love. Not with me.” Malfurion nuzzles her face into her cheek, breathing in her skin “she does not want me.” He feels her tears.

 

“Asch?” He mutters, upon hearing a wet hum he continues, “do you want me?”

 

“Yes,” he hears her say after a long time of hearing nothing but the sound of rain hitting the window. Malfurion wraps his arms around her and Asch finally cries. 

 

Malfurion wasn’t worried anymore. 

 

 

 

Chapter 107: Koltira dabbles 4

Summary:

Koltira Deathweaver/original female character

Hello! Enjoy!

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Asch felt him slump against her, dead asleep and motionless. For a moment she thought whatever the paladin did had killed him and that scared her.

 

That is until Tirion touched her shoulder, “He will wake. Guards! Bring him to their new quarters.” Asch blinks up at him, confused, the older man offers her a smile in return “Take care of him?” Asch nods vigorously, clutching him to her.

 

Three men helped her with him, because, surprisingly he was that heavy even without armour. They walked with a guide that took them toward the line of buildings beyond the grounds, some people were coming out of the apartments in troves and parted from them without so much as a glance.

 

Their room was at the far end and plain as the next, just as plain as his rooms were before. Although she couldn’t complain, it was war after all and who could afford luxury?

 

Asch thanked the men who placed him nicely on the bed, they looked like good men, they were two humans and an elf, her kind. They all bowed toward her and flooded out, walking fast and now armed. Asch blinks, but ignores it.

Closing the door she heaved a sigh, pressing her cheek into the moldy, wet wood.

Turning around she stares at Koltira. His chest didn’t move for breath and his eyes sputtered lichfire from under their sockets, unnatural was her first thought, then misunderstood.

Although her second thought was only because he had been kind too her, if it were anyone else, even that human that he spoke with would have kept her for his own. Tirion said he had freed the Deathknights, maybe they all regretted what they did to all of them.

Maybe they didn’t. Asch knew Koltira did and he had never touched her.

 

Approaching him Asch couldn’t help but touch, his hair was brittle but still had some softness to it as she weaves her hand trough his long bangs, pulling them away from his face. Koltira didn’t even stir, if he didn’t wake up soon she was going to start worrying.

There was the smallest twitch of his fingers and she sighed in relief.

Asch wondered what she could do while she waited, lord Fordring asked her to look after him, but what could she do?

Looking around the scant room she saw a clay bowl, dusty and old. Asch perked, she knew what she could do.

Gathering her skirts she hurried to the bowl, she could find fresh snow and clean the dirt from his face and hair. Guards watched her with curious eyes as she jabbed the bowl into a mound of snow, heads tilted as she scurries passed them with a soft smile.

 

Koltira hasn’t moved once in the time she was gone, not even as she sat and waited for the ice to melt.

Asch wrung the cloth between her hands and finally touched his face with gentle pressure, rubbing his high cheeks clean of lingering dirt and grime. Slowly she uncovered a pale white face, one that used to be hidden by grease and filth. Asch coos as his nose twitches, smiling as he huffed in his sleep.

 

Asch turns to wring the dirt from the cloth and in mere seconds of doing so Koltira lurches up, gasping for breath like it was his first. Asch jolts, surprised as he doubles over, clutching his chest gasping for air and clawing at the sheets.

“My lord- my lord its alright!” Asch hurriedly squeaks, heart pounding in her chest like a drum being beaten to a tune. Koltira looks at her with eyes still ablaze with lichfire, faintly she can see the man he once was in those dangerous eyes.

“Where- where are we?” Asch nudges him to lean back into the pillows, running the cloth over his forehead. “Still in the tournament grounds. You were only asleep for an hour.” Asch watched as his shoulders slumped from their drawn and tense position. For a moment he says nothing, eyes glaring off at nothing in thought “I... remember.” Tirion wished to speak with him. Koltira wanted answers likely as much as Tirion wanted information.

 

Asch was very upset but Koltira waved it off and left with her on his heels, worrying over his health. Of course, he was dead. So his health didn’t matter- but Koltira liked the fretting.

“Find me lord Fordring.” He commands the guards, waiting at the grandest tent of them all, hoping that it was Tirion’s. Another pair of guards ushered him inside with a jerk of their head, leading him to the command table, where Tirion Fordring was slouched over frowning, while to his right was the high king of the Alliance himself, Varian Wrynn.

“Lord Fordring.” Koltira addresses with respect, still standing head held high, he would bow to no man again. Not even the man who freed him from his shackles. Both humans regard him with interest, then look toward Asch, who makes a soft, intimidated sound behind him.

Koltira reaches back, pressing his hand against her stomach. Without seeing Koltira knows she shifted behind him, because the human king smirks while Tirion doesn’t seem phase. Koltira wasn’t sure what unnerved him more of the two expressions.

 

“There are pressing issues Deathweaver.” Tirion begins, forgoing his business with the king apparently. Tirion rounds the table, “The Knights of the Ebon blade have been formed under the rule of Highlord Darion Mograine.” Koltira narrows his eyes, of course Darion would be so pompous. For all the time they have known each other, though little, Koltira knew Darion to be quiet, commanding and all together annoying.

“What of it?” Koltira says tilting his head, Tirion could wait until he asks his questions. “What are you going to do? You have no business here and your decision will affect another.” Koltira looks over his shoulder, Asch was already staring up at him with wide, concerned eyes.

“You had other questions.” Koltira decided not to answer yet. “Your... partner answered everything we wished too know.” The high king says with a smug look about him. “What did you ask?” Koltira wasn’t upset with her. These humans took advantage of her soft disposition and he found himself infuriated at that.

Tirion smiles softly, “Do not be alarmed.” Koltira was and would stay that way until his questions were answered. “All we asked was where she came from and how she was treated.” Koltira frowns “I see.” Tirion raises his brow, now for his answers.

“I suppose I will leave for the Ebon Blade tonight. And...” he glances toward Asch again, “Since the high king of the Alliance is here you will assure me that she is returned home safely.” Varian begins to speak, but was interrupted when Asch grabbed hold of Koltira “No! I wish to go with you- please!” Everyone around him was stunned for a moment, but then the king snorts indignantly “I suppose that’s final then.”

 

Tirion nods once, amusement on his face. “Horses and provisions will be acquired for your journey tonight.”

 

Koltira waited until they were in the privacy of the borrowed room before he snapped, unintentionally of course, “What are you thinking?!” It was not safe for her to go with him, to stay with him.

“I-I wanted-“ her eyes were filling with tears. Koltira suddenly felt terrible, “Asch this isn’t a good idea.” Asch’s shoulders were pressed against her ears, fingers stressing her dress, “You... you were lying?” Koltira frowns, “What-? About what?”

“W-when you said- that- that you... care for me?” Koltira blinks, utterly confused before he remembered the moment he awoke in the dungeon and they held a knife to her throat.

Asch looks up at him, eyes running down her cheeks “Asch...” is all he mutters, choked.

“I... I do...” he says defeated. Asch’s lip quivers and her eyes grow big and hopeful, “Then- then please let me stay w-with you!”

 

Koltira stares, frozen on the spot and for the first time in his long life;

Extremely unsure of himself.

Notes:

EDITED 18/JAN/2019

Chapter 108: Koltira dabbles 5

Summary:

Koltira Deathweaver/original female elf

We reached over 200 kudos! Thank you so much!

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Koltira watches Asch round the horse given to her, frowning as she flinched when it moved. “Do you know how to ride?” Asch jolts at his question, shoulders drawn up, “N-not by myself...” Koltira glares flatly. “You are a noble lady then?” He knew it, of course she was. 

 

“My father is... an advisor to Vereesa Windrunner.” Koltira swallows, her father was an important man, “Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?! I must return you to him!” If her father- gods if Vereesa found out a lowly horde death knight had Eli Featherwilds daughter, Koltira would beg for his second death.

 

“No!” She squeaks, as Koltira gapes, “Asch your father must be looking for you- why won’t you return to him?!” Something bloomed across her face, either embarrassment or shame he wasn’t sure, “My mother... died giving birth- my father remarried and his wife... she’s the reason I was... captured.” 

 

Koltira glared at her, “Continue.” 

 

Asch hesitates, shes upset but Koltira resisted the urge to comfort her. “She told me to meet with her by the outskirts of the city when the attack came- I tried to look for her thinking she was in danger-“ 

 

“But she was nowhere to be found?” Asch nods at his conclusion. Koltira has heard this story before, stepmother getting rid of the daughter so there wasn’t anyone to stand in the way of her children and their inheritance. 

 

 

“All the more reason to return you-“ “No! She’ll do it again- won’t she?” Asch approaches him, pulling his hands in hers and desperately squeezing them with all she had, “Don’t send me away- please!”

 

Koltira heaves a sigh, “You’re going to need to learn to ride by yourself.”

 

 

 

Koltira sighs into Asch’s hair, rolling his eyes as he listens to her hum happily and hold his hand against her lap, “How is it a noble lady doesn’t know how to ride a horse?” Her horse was behind them, holding most of the provisions on his back “I do!” She protests, and he snorts “I... I know how to ride hawks.” Koltira grunts, “When I have time I will teach you.” Despite enjoying how close she was it wasn’t practical to continue in like this. 

 

Asch squeezes his hand, he can hear the smile as she speaks “I’m excited then!” After a moment she says “when do you think we’ll get to the Ebon Blade?” Koltira muses, they would have to take a longer route just to avoid Icecrown and the army around it but...

 

“Three days- if the weather favours. Five if not” Koltira knew many hidden nooks and hiding spots that would keep them safe and the food in their bags wouldn’t spoil until well passed their journey’s conclusion.

 

“Are you cold?” Tirion had provided furs and blankets, more for her benefit than his. “No- not yet at least” Asch had thicker skirts on, also a gift from the highlord as well as a thick coat that smelt like rose water “It’ll get colder as the day draws.” Asch hums in response, “You’ll keep me warm.” Koltira chokes on a laugh, if blood could rush to his face he knew it would. 

 

Koltira decided to let his horse rest after the sun begun to fade behind the mountains of Icecrown. The vanguard of Arthas’ army could be seen leaving the mouth of the gates, ready to make their rounds and conquer some piece of forsaken land. Koltira leads his horse up a snow mound toward a cave that cut into the icy side of a clif. 

 

“Here?” Asch calls with a yawn, Koltira nods. The gap was wide enough for both horses to fit through, but secret enough they wouldn’t be found by flying patrols or ground. Koltira knew it was too high for any footmen to bother. 

 

“Let me help!” Asch says, grabbing the tent roll off the horses back. Koltira blinks, “Do you know how to use that?” She hugs the roll to her chest, pouting. “No- I can help with the bed though!” As she drops it Koltira freezes, bed?

 

Bed. One bed. 

 

Even though they didn’t have to. 

 

“It’s so soft!” She draws him out of his stupor, holding a massive pelt of some white animal- Koltira couldn't guess the kind but Asch had it pressed to her cheeks and looked comfortable 

 

“Come on! Help me!” Koltira tripped on his feet trying to set up the tent. 

 

 

They didn’t need it, but Koltira figured he should learn now to build the tent when it came time there wasn’t a cave to stash away in. 

 

It was large enough for two people and their bags, the horses had begun to settle and sleep after they were fed. Asch went about fixing their bed while Koltira sat on a wet rock and assessed his strange situation. 

 

Asch couldn’t go home because her stepmother was jealous, he had to go to the Ebon Blade. There was no place in the world for his kind but there. Was it truly a good idea to bring her there? Tirion said they had their humanity back, morals, right and wrong.

 

What they at least believe was right and wrong.

 

What if they thought abusing Asch was right? Koltira couldn't be with her all the time, the Ebon Blade would give him duties just as Arthas had and Asch would have to stay behind. His worries were halted when he heard a triumphant squeal erupt from behind the tent flap and watched as she sprung from out of it happy and flush with colour. “Finished!” Koltira manages to smile, finding that her happiness made him happy.

 

“Did you eat?” 

 

“Yes!” 

 

Koltira looks outside of the caves now small entrance, seeing only darkness beyond, “Time to sleep?” Koltira finally hums, toying with the release on his gauntlets. Asch sits pleasantly on the bed she made, waiting for him to remove his armour. Koltira decided to open his mouth, “Why do you want me in your bed?” He didn’t mean for it to come out that way and his mouth shut so fast his teeth rattled behind his lips. 

 

“Because it’s yours” Koltira cannot contain his shock, she laughs- nervously crawling out of the tent “It- it’s not!” He protests, nervous for the first time in ages, Asch sweetly smiles at him, blush evident on her face “I only want to share it with you,” she takes his hands from him, pulling him to the bed, Koltira has no willpower to stop her. 

 

They topple into the bed, the fur feels soft against his bare skin, Asch giggles, pushing his hair away from his face. Koltira looks at her, “Asch...”

 

Her giggles pause and Koltira leans forward, pressing his weight on his arms, Asch eases up to reach him and finally their lips meet in a soft, nervous kiss. 

 

Koltira barely remembers any women he kissed,when he was young and his brother was alive he was a bad influence, despite being younger and talked Koltira into going with him to whore houses, those girls he never kissed. There was a girl, back when he was a ranger. She was pretty and she kissed him under a tree in the eversong woods. 

 

But until now nothing struck him harder, nothing seemed so clear then the body beneath his, accepting his affection with open interest. 

 

Koltira parts with a little huff, never in his life was he scared or nervous, not when he died not when he was born into undeath- now this elf- this... this little girl! Was causing him great stress.

 

Koltira found he liked this kind of stress... 

 

 

Asch yawns gently, catching his attention “We should rest,” he says, disappointing her apparently, causing a pout to fall on her face. Koltira glares without malice and kisses her again, appeasing her. 

 

“Alright I suppose,” she sighs, pulling him into her. Koltira grows stiff and Asch  huffs “I know you died but you don’t have to act like a corpse.” This makes him laugh unexpectedly, Asch hums, nuzzling into his skin. Koltira relaxes, wrapping his arm around her more comfortably.  

Notes:

EDITED 18/JAN/2019

Chapter 109: Mal/Xavius dabbles 4

Summary:

Malfurion Stormrage/Original female elf

Chapter Text

Waking up was slow and lethargic, Malfurion stretched, listening to the pop pop pop of his bones and sighing in content as he melted back in the sheets, Asch jostled against his chest and awoke once he finished moving “mhm,” she mutters, rubbing her eyes, Malfurion runs his hand down her naked back, “good mornin’” He slurs, voice full of gravel and sleep. Asch moans softly, pulling at his shoulders to hick higher into his body, Malfurion inhales, “you smell very good” Malfurion rumbles, pulling her now and completely awake.

 

“Hm- mhm... Mal-“ the Druid purrs loudly, Asch giggles as he licks her skin, not unlike a great cat “stop that-“ she protests, albeit fondly, the sounds coming from his chest increase dramatically “ugh- Mal- I'm sticky,” Asch huffs, squirming as his tongue licks above her breasts “I suppose you would like a bath instead of my tongue?” Asch shivers, cooing “yes please.” 

 

Malfurion refuses to let her down until they got to the bathroom. 

 

It had been years since he felt this at peace, Asch sat in his lap as they waited for the water to fill out and held a phial of green liquid soap. Gently turning the taps off Malfurion lets her in first, admiring the way her skin looked in the water before getting in himself. 

 

The bath was larger then most and fit them both comfortably, Malfurion watches her sink under the surface, drenching her hair. Asch gasps coming back up, smiling softly and face pink from the steam. Malfurion chuckles, watching her shimmy closer “thank you,” she says and Malfurion knows it wasn’t because of the bath. 

 

Malfurion has every intention of speaking, but he lost his will for words as Asch climbed into his lap, kissing his jaw “I-“ is all he manages as her delicate hand palms his cock, jerking it with a devilish expression. Malfurion tries to touch her, but her other hand presses his away, shaking her head “you are mine,” she mutters in his ear, Malfurion was completely at her mercy. 

 

“A-Asch-“ he struggles to say, hips bucking pathetically into her hand, Asch manhandles  his arms out of the way, forcing them to lay on the edge of the tub while she works, climbing higher in his lap while holding his cock at attention. Malfurion kisses her as she sinks onto his cock, moaning throatily as the wet heat surrounds him “don’t knot o-okay?” Asch shutters, rocking into him “d-don’t wa-wanna be stuck in... in the t-tub-!” Malfurion chuckles, a gargled deep sound “I’ll carry you darling.”

 

“You’re too pretty not too knot,” He rumbles, moving his arms around her and overpowering her attempt at control.

 

“Is she?!” Malfurion jerks, water sloshing over the side, from the open door stood Tyrande, furious and cheeks full of tears. It was the first he’d ever seen her cry. 

 

“Tyrande- wait! Tyrande!” Asch had scrambled off his lap and Malfurion barely managed not to slip on the soaking puddle he made while trying to leap from the tub.

 

“Tyrande-! Stop!” Malfurion wails, grabbing the tower around his waist “you disgusting beast!” She snarls loudly, angry. Malfurion felt his heart sink further “Tyrande please!” Her face is consumed with fury “you have no control! Am I so easily forgotten by you? All because she let you kn-knot-! Like an animal!” 

 

Malfurion sheethes now, unbelieving of what he hears “an animal?!” Tyrande crosses her arms, “it isn’t natural Malfurion!” 

 

“I’m a Druid Tyrande! It’s the most natural thing in the world!” Now he was yelling, her face screws up and Malfurion is so disappointed. “Is that why? It disgusts you?” He couldn’t help but feel pain when she didn’t answer him. “It’s apart of me Tyrande- it’s been apart of me since before we were in love! Do you mean to- to say...” he trails off. “All this time?” He didn’t want to hear her say it, because he already knew the answer. 

 

 

“What did you come here for Tyrande? Why have you sought me out? Was it to apologize? Finalize our divorce? What?” Malfurion was becoming annoyed with her making this all his fault, blaming him while she stands there admitting by omission she couldn’t stand the most intimate part of his being. 

 

“I came to see if you’d reconsider.” Reconsider...? Reconsider what? 

 

Oh. 

 

“I’m not asking her to abort our child Tyrande.” His old love flintches at his words “do not ask me again.” 

 

 

Tyrande’s lip twitches in a snarl “then I have nothing more to say to you. Goodbye Malfurion.” 

 

Malfurion sighs, nodding curtly. 

 

He does not say anything as he turns around and returns to the home. He finds Asch still wet and sitting on the top of the staircase “are you alright?” She asks and Malfurion can’t believe how light his heart felt “yes, everything is fine Asch. Now- shall we salvage the rest of our day?” 

 

Asch is hesitant, staring at him “Malfurion...” he shakes his head, tutting “no don’t...” he begs softly, going to her “Malfurion she’s... she’s your wife.” Malfurion kneels, clutching her knees in his hands “she isn’t. Not any longer.”

 

“You still love her you should be with her.”

 

“I could love more then one person Asch.” At this she jolts, eyes going wide “I could love you.” 

 

Malfurion’s throat bobs, nervous energy swirling in his belly “c-could you love me?” 

 

“I already do.” Malfurion barely heard it. 

 

 

 

“Asch?” Her head shoots up “yes?” He smiles at her “will you help me make this place a home again?”

 

“Please!” 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 110: Illidan dabbles 21

Summary:

Illidan Stormrage/Asch Stormrage

So this was written right before the burning of the tree- which I will write about to because I am UPSET. So expect that soonish lol

Chapter Text

Illidan awoke slowly, aches in places he forgot he could ache, tired despite sleeping a full night and so at peace that it felt wrong. 

 

Illidan squints, dust and tiny white feathers float in the air aimlessly, than he remembered the ruin state their bed was in. At first he remembered nothing of the night he allowed his demon dominion, then slowly his memories came back in a dream, everything said, everything done. 

 

Illidan heaves a breath, blinking up at the darkness of their room, it had to be early- or maybe it was late. There was no way of knowing, Argus has no sun and no way to tell time. Illidan remembers his hunters conferring with a bronze drake and a mage, in due time they would have some semblance of days and months, but Illidan wasn’t eager as they were for it. 

 

Of course he remembers birthdays and special events, according to the Azeroth calendar, but even then some were wrong. If time managed to be different here all his children’s birthdays would be wrong. Illidan supposes so long as he doesn’t forgot that was what mattered. 

 

 

Illidan shifts, uncomfortable, his wings were crumpled underneath him, idly he wonders how it happened. Usually he would sleep on his side or stomach, recently Asch had taken to sleeping on his back between his wings, much to his enjoyment. Now she was laying on his chest, sleeping without a sound. 

 

Illidan wiggles his arms from under the torn blankets, grabbing Asch with little strength before moving her off. Druids slumber deeply and it would take significantly more to wake her. Illidan was grateful for that as he unfolded his wings with a mighty crack and hiss. 

 

Asch looked peaceful, save the bloody crusted scabs. 

 

Illidan reaches to caress her face, wondering not for the first time how he managed all he had, despite not deserving it. At the beginning he was cruel, unloving and uncaring, after he believed he would never see light again Illidan ached for Asch, praying to any god that would listen just for a glimpse. 

 

They fought before, about things Illidan knew were his fault, things that seemed so pointless now. Illidan was glad Asch refused to fight with him about anything, her ironwill kept him in check. 

 

Illidan considered for a moment what life would have been like if he married Tyrande, if her love was his and that he even wanted it anymore. Recently Malfurion and her disagreed on much, his brother told him they we’re constantly fighting without end. 

 

Illidan thinks they would have fought too. 

 

Asch shared many of his ideas, enough that they never clashed and those she didn’t challenged his thoughts.

 

Asch made him better in every way possible.

 

 

Illidan decides that trying to wake her was pointless and lays beside her, caressing what he could reach. 

 

There was no sound in the house, Malfurion must still have their children. It was a uneasy thought, but he would take care of them well. Edan was old enough he ventured off with Jace’s daughter, no doubt making bad decisions and exciting experiences. Illidan would likely hear the story once they came home. 

 

Kair was a little more sheltered and had no friends but her siblings, a little less adventurous then her elder brother. Although Illidan couldn’t say he was unhappy about that. Mortals flocked Edan because he was Illidan’s first born, thankfully Kair was left alone by those kinds of people.

 

Tadeas was still too young to be friendly with outsiders, in fact he often hid behind his sister or mother if someone who wasn’t family was near, someday he would grow out of it. Tadeas was just old enough to take an interest in his uncle and mothers craft and wish to learn all he could by bombarding his mother and uncle with questions. Malfurion was hardly annoyed.

 

Illidan was mildly, but adored the look on his toddlers face when his uncle turned into a great elk. 

 

Yllidis, heir final baby was a delight, a peaceful and overly quiet baby. He did not fuss or cry and he had such a curious look about him all the time that Illidan found utterly amusing. Unlike all his other babies, Yllidis barely made any noise at all, at first Illidan thought Yllidis chose to be silent, mute like some of his hunters, but over time Yllidis tired words and babbled like any baby, still Illidan knew he would grow to be soft spoken. 

 

 

Illidan was roses from his thoughts when a great crash and thundering boom came from outside their home, to his utter surprise Asch had been shocked awake and screamed as their bedroom shook from the impact. Asch jolted into his body, panicked and confused, Illidan himself marvelled at the suddenness of it all until he gained his wit and cooed softly at his frightened mate.

 

 

“I-Illidan?!” Asch sputters, shaking despite herself, Illidan looks over her shoulder, the window was dusty and clouded with dirt but he could see water vigorously falling down the glass.

 

It was storming outside. 

 

Asch’s soft hair tickles his jaw as she turns to look at the window, flintching in shock before gasping “it’s working!” She says with pure joy in her voice, “Argus is- it’s raining!” Asch sits up in his embrace, but still Illidan doesn’t let her go, watching as the rain overtakes the whole window.

 

“It’s wonderful!” Illidan knew it meant the world was healing. 

 

Asch deflates at little “we have to go out in it to get the kids... ah....” Illidan chuckles, reaching to kiss her shoulder, trying to avoid the welts his claws carved into her back “it’ll excite them. It’ll be the first they see rain.” Kair, Tadeas and Yllidis have never seen rain before. 

 

 

“Come, my brother must be at his limit.” 

 

 

 

 

Once they arrived at the temple Malfurion greeted them with Yllidis in his arms, Tadeas at his feet and Kair no where to be found. “Ada!” Tadeas squeaks, “nana!” Asch drops to the floor and engulfs Tadeas, kissing his face as he giggles. “How were they?” Malfurion smirks, “quiet, especially this one. I think he’s shy.” Yllidis blinks his wide dark eyes, watching Illidan curiously “oh?” Illidan coos, smiling warmly at his baby. Yllidis makes the softest noise and stretches out his arms, Illidan takes him from Malfurion, watching as he settles. 

 

 

“Thank you for looking after them!” Asch jumps up with Tadeas on her hip, smiling brightly. Malfurion hums, “it’s no trouble they were wonderful- are you staying?” Illidan nods, “just the night.” Malfurion nods, understanding “where is Kair?” 

 

“Likely with Tyrande. Let’s go find her and you can go home.” 

 

Kair was sitting by a pool, watching her aunt weave the light between her hands when Asch approached, quietly sneaking up on her and kissing the top of her head, gasping their beautiful girl twists, smiling growing “nana! Tadeas!” Illidan snorts as Asch passes her brother over, enjoying the delight on his face as she nuzzles his cheek “how are things?” 

 

“Your daughter has a talent for the light, Asch.” Tyrande looks proud, an almost longing look on her face as she pets Kair’s leg “that’s wonderful Kair! I’m so excited for you” from the side Illidan watching Malfurion approach without disturbing the girls, “Tadeas shows promise as a Druid, like his mother you know.” He begins, preening “this little one too- but only time will tell” Yllidis blinks as Malfurion rubs his chubby arm with a delicate finger. 

 

 

Illidan considers this with a silent tilt of his head, amused when Yllidis reaches for his broad horn “did you imagine this?” Mal says to his older brother, watching his wife and the children. Illidan understand his meaning “not for me. I thought it would be you.” Illidan  thought about his family many times, even Mal and Tyrande. He thought they would have a litter of children, not him. 

 

“Maybe still. Tyrande adored Yllidis.” Most everyone did. Illidan coos proudly at his son, the baby soaks the attention with drowsy eyes. Illidan rumbles, lulling his baby to sleep  “in time you’ll have babies of your own, it was more likely of you” Mal laughs, shaking his head “maybe we’ll start on that tonight.” For once Illidan doesn’t feel pain or anger at his words about Tyrande, instead joy “best do.” Is all he says and they both chuckle like the old days. 

 

 

A squeal draws their attention, watching Tadeas clap in delight as Asch licks his cheek, the brilliant colour of her fur shining. “Kitty!” Tadeas yells, so excited. Yllidis’ eyes draw open, watching as the massive cat plops on the floor, Tadeas buries his face in her fur, hugging her soft neck. “Would you like to see?” Illidan coos softly, Yllidis barely understands him, but mutters softly in response as if he did. 

 

Illidan approaches slowly, staring at the calm brilliant white eyes of his wife watching him. Illidan kneels, placing the baby against her furry belly, for a moment Yllidis doesn’t know what to do, he looks up at his father, then the wide face of his mother. The little hands grope and pull at her fur, Asch pokes her nose into his head, purring softly as he settles into her. 

 

 

Illidan rumbles, petting his back gently as he falls asleep. 

 

Tyrande can’t contain herself as the babies begin to fall asleep, she coos and gasps, “oh Mal darling look at them, aren’t they precious.” 

 

“We should get them home.” Asch snorts softly, nodding her fluffy head before gently “Tadeas- up” Illidan whispers, Asch helps him into her back, licking his cheek gently. Asch opens her jaw, pulling Yllidis from her belly like a mother lion would her cubs and carries him in her mouth while Tadeas clings onto her back. 

 

Illidan chuckles gently, grabbing Yllidis from her and following along while Kair said her goodbyes.

 

The home they had in Darnassus seemed to be getting smaller and smaller as their family got bigger, Illidan laying on their bed and remembered it being larger. Although their bed at home was much, much larger. 

 

“I miss our bed,” Asch says, speaking his thoughts, Illidan smiles tiredly “one night Asch” she sighs, tying her hair away from her neck. Illidan observes her, certainly something he had done before, even what he saw shouldn’t have been a shock, but it was and it made him sit up. Asch raises her brows, “what?” 

 

“Come here,” he coos, staring at her middle, Asch approaches slowly, drifting in his open arms “Asch-“ “Illidan?” Her smile grows, because she knew what he saw.

 

“Yes?” Asch practically squeaks, bouncing on her heels, Illidan finds himself smiling, knuckles pressing on her flat stomach “Asch. There... there isn’t just one.” He felt her stop breathing, her heart beat sped up “how- how many?” 

 

Illidan pulls her into him, “twins Asch.” She’s jumping in his arms, giggling and kissing whatever her lips found “we’re having twins!” The glow beneath her was yellow, two orb shaped little twinkles “I can’t believe it took so long,” she laughs, “I wondered when it would happen!” Illidan was a twin and usually twins would father twins. Illidan rumbles, “I cant wait to see them” she coos, kissing him again. 

 

“Neither can I.”

 

 

Illidan’s ear twitched at the sound of the door opening downstairs, without worrying of waking Asch he slipped out of bed, his eldest was home and sneaking in. 

 

“Ada,” Edan calls softly, knowing his father’s steps. Illidan smiles as Edan silently eases the door closed behind him “aren’t you suppose to be with Atam?” Edan snorts, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms “I was- I’m going back I just wanted to tell you I was staying for a few more days, if that’s alright?” Illidan sees the love sick look in his burning eyes, “yes Edan, just be responsible.”

 

 

That caused him to cringe outwardly and laugh awkwardly “ada... really?” Illidan snorts, “it’s important little one, come here.” Edan is coaxed from his spot and sits with his father, wringing his as if he’s done something wrong. 

 

“Is this girl it?” Of course Illidan wasn’t going to make it easy for his eldest in the slightest.

 

Edan sucks in a breath, shaky and unsure, but he nods “I’d like to think so ada...” Illidan is proud, happy his son found not one but two people that accpected what he was. Jarod may have not been the one, but Atam. Illidan met her many times, she was lighthearted and seemed very good for his son, she tempered his bad ideas andnursed his mind in ways Illidan couldn’t, neither Asch. 

 

Atam was a good women and that is why Illidan would feel pain from this.

 

 

“Edan what did your mother tell you about your birth?” The question caught his son of guard, as if he expected something completely different. “Um- ugh not much? I never asked. She said I was born on Argus during the war with the Legion- before the Unmaker.” Illidan clears his throat, wishing he didn’t have to say anything at all, but does.

 

“You were born dead, Edan.” Edan blinks, shocked at his words, Illidan continues “your mother came with me because she refused to be left out of the fight for our world.” Edan leans toward his father, eyes wide but not daring to interrupt. “It was like any other day, we were at the den, hunters were busying themselves when it happened. Your mother called for me- the floor under her feet was drenched in vile fluid.” Illidan can still see the puddle beneath his mates feet, the pain in her face as she realized what was happening. 

 

“I called for the Paladin, Turalyon too keep your mother alive and she gave birth to you,” Illidan pauses, eyes straining and heart hurting “you weren’t breathing and your heart... you weren’t alive.” Edan was shaking, hands stressing in his lap. “I told Turalyon too save you- that I wasn’t going to accept anything less... I wasn’t going to tell your mother we’d lost you.” 

 

 

Illidan shakes his mighty head, “my point in all this is that if you’re sure Atam is what you want you must do everything you can for her, be responsible- know when something is dangerous Edan.”

 

Edan frowns, sad and confused “why did you have me then? If it was dangerous why did you have so many children ada?” This makes his father laugh “your mother and I had just gotten together and Khadgar was arranging a raid on the tomb- I didn’t allow her to come and she’s still angry with me for it.” Edan smiles softly, but it doesn’t reach his eyes and Illidan continues “when I returned she was pregnant with you and she wouldn't let me convince her otherwise.” Illidan reaches to ruffles his hair, “I am glad she didn’t.” 

 

Edan swats at his hand, smiling playfully as he fixed his messy hair “Edan your mother has been pregnant fourteen times” Edan flinches badly, “as you know you only have three siblings.” 

 

“Gods ada I didn’t-“ “you aren’t suppose too, your mother isn’t upset- many we didn’t know about until it happened. I am telling you now because it will happen many times to you, too Atam.” Edan weighs the words and for the first time Illidan can see a bit of Asch in Edan. His eyes, smouldering, black and voidless but they were Asch. 

 

 

“Your mother adores life, you know this. She loves you and your siblings with everything she has. It would be cruel of me not to allow her to have as many children as she desires.” Edan swallows, something unspoken pressing on his shoulders, Illidan could see it but wouldn’t ask.

 

“Did you know? How did you know? Everyone nana was...?” Illidan makes a vague noise “sometimes, I saw you, your brothers and sister. Some we lost- others... were not far along enough for my vision to see.” Illidan watches his sons face, his mouth twitches and his face becomes unreadable. “What... does it look like?” 

 

 

“A soft glow, you were green as was Kair, Yllidis was black, as you saw.” Illidan begins to wonder why Edan wished to know all of this now, but waits for his son to ask his questions “how early can you see it?” Illidan toys with it, he never really tired to find out exactly the moment his seed took and begun to create life, but he gives his best answer “a month maybe less- why...?” 

 

 

This time he saw the shame bloom brightly on is sons face and he could hide no longer “I may... have done something.” 

 

 

Illidan sits back “Edan did you...” Edan nods “it’s- I saw a... greenish colour and- and I remember... I don’t- I don’t...” his son is panicking now “hush little one- it’s alright. Does she know?” He shakes his head vehemently, terrified now that it was out in the open “it’s been days- she can’t know yet... I- ada I was careful I was...” 

 

“Edan. It’s alright-“ “ada it was an accident after all you said and-“ “Edan.” This quiets him. “I’m not upset with you- nana won’t be either.” He takes a breath, “we’re here little one. Always.”

 

Edan starts to cry. 

 

Illidan squeezes his knee “we have to tell your mother” Edan’s eyes begun to overflow “Edan she won’t be upset- come.” 

 

Illidan leads him up the stairs, rumbling quietly to try and calm his eldest “let me wake her.” Edan nods miserably. Illidan smiles softly at him. 

 

Asch was asleep on his side of the bed,  ruled slightly and breathing softly, Illidan approaches noisily, not quieting his footfalls in hopes it’ll wake his deep sleeping wife “Asch? Little elf?” He tries, leaning forward. Asch doesn’t stir, in fact she was basically motionless. 

 

Illidan tried a few more times to wake her gently before giving up and deciding to be a little cruel. Reaching over he pulls her ear between his finger, pintchjng it gently at first then squeezing it. It was a little trick he learnt with his brother long ago. 

 

 

Asch yips, eyes flying open in sudden pain “ow- Illidan!” She hisses, swatting at his hand, Illidan chuckles, but then his face falls “Asch-“ Asch sits up, “I don’t like that face...” Illidan glares at the floor “Edan... has done something.”

 

Asch looked alarmed but didn’t burst out with her thoughts, not doubt thinking he as hurt, Illidan was glad she just allowed him to explain “Edan thinks Atam is pregnant.” The breath she was holding expelled in his face and smelt like sunflowers, Illidan would have found it pleasant if not for the conversation. 

 

“How?” She asks with a level voice “he thinks he saw their life force within her “she doesn’t know yet then?” Illidan shakes his head, Asch muses a moment “okay. Let me talk to him.” 

 

Edan was a mess outside their door, wings fluttering and eyes draining, a wreck in all sense of the word “nana-?” The first thing Asch does is hug him tightly “everything is alright now Edan. I promise.” Illidan should have gotten her sooner. 

 

“Sweetheart are you sure of what you saw?” She asks, leading him into their bedroom and sitting him on the bed “almost nana- I.. I didn’t know what it was or if it’s-“ “that’s okay little one. Here’s what we’re going to do. Atam doesn’t know yet so we are going to wait for her to figure it out, okay?” Edan nods, confused by the plan “and you are going to be prepared for it. Atam is going to be scared and you need to help her.” 

 

 

Illidan leans against the door, pondering wether or not Asch was scared when she found out she was pregnant with Edan. Illidan wishes he was there. Maybe they wouldn’t have fought. A question for another time he supposes. 

 

“Nana is this... is this really okay? You aren’t mad...?” Asch coos, petting his hair “no we aren’t mad at you at all!” Asch kisses his forehead, pulling him into her breast and hugging him “no one is upset with you, if it’s true and Atam is pregnant we will do everything we can to help you my love.” Illidan approaches carefully, reaching and running his hand through Edan’s hair. 

 

Edan looks up at his father, and Illidan is so proud. 

Chapter 111: Mal/Xavius dabbles 5

Summary:

Malfurion Stormrage/Original female elf

Ahh I wanted to make it longer but couldn’t figure out how so enjoy!

Chapter Text

Malfurion’s return to Darnassus was more then uncomfortable, Tyrande made it as difficult as possible to find her, maybe it was revenge, maybe she wanted him to feel shame, whatever her plan she had succeeded. 

 

Going into the temple was a mistake, most if not all the nightelven people had heard and regarded him as an enemy now, some looked at him with pity and understanding, those he felt grateful for. 

 

Tyrande has left his things in neat little crates, a small kindness. Where he found them however was not. Instead of the temple, their home or any companions place she had left it with the druids under his rule. It was possible she wanted them to see Malfurion as she thought he looked, a betrayer- like his brother. 

 

But they looked at him as they always had, they had not spoken ill of him or cast any judging looks, only bowed their heads and showed him where his things were kept. 

 

The two leading him were utterly silent, dutiful in their task as they lead him into the storage room. A portal mage was waiting there, scowling and feel like the rest of his people. “One moment,” one of the druids said and dismissed her outside. The mage looked annoyed, but eager to leave.

 

Malfurion watches her leave, a curious brow drawn before the Druid spoke to him, head held up like an equal “it was right.” He says, “what you’ve done. There was no other way.” The one beside him nods, “we stand with you. All druids do.” Malfurion was struck, with affection, with pride. Mostly shock. 

 

“Thank... you” he can find no other words to say, they both smile at him, “will you need help?” Finally the other speaks, softer and unsure. Malfurion shakes his head “I will retrieve the mage.”

 

When the girl returns Malfurion wishes her to teleport his things to his new home, telling her its whereabouts and waiting, as if it was not obvious she was displeased by her face already ice begins to form around the cracks in the room, forming razor sharp icicles. The druids are uneasy and watching the walls, pointing their long weapons toward the growing shards.

 

“Your portal,” she hisses with no respect or care, waiting in front of the shimmer blue magic door, Malfurion eyes her before nodding carefully, thanking them all despite the anger the mage felt. Malfurion didn’t realize how cold the storage room was until he stepped out and into his front yard, he shivers lightly, breath fogging in front of him before disappearing like normal.

 

Scattered across the lawn were his things, some toppled over and other open and tossed. Malfurion glares, assuming this would happen. Beyond the mess the front door opens and Asch pokes out, blinking at the mess “I take it did not go well?” She says behind to help pick things up. Malfurion sighs, starting too as well “mostly. My druids still hold love for me. Not many else.” Where the Worgen stood Malfurion did not know, the My enjoyed the gossip but besides that he could not tell if they resented him or not. 

 

His druids held love for life, and hatred for Xavius. They must have known the truth behind it all as he did, if only the rest of his people could understand. 

 

“Ah...” he sighs, throwing things back into their upturned case “there is still much to be done.” Malfurion still needed to speak to Anduin, the Druids of the grove and his Shando. 

 

Cenarius would have the final decision that would impact the rest of Malfurion’s but if his Shando allowed him to continue his leadership over the druids then he would have to speak to Anduin and assure him while his marriage to Tyrande had failed that his support to the alliance had not, and thus pledge his fealty once more. 

 

Malfurion would also have to address the druids of the grove, while most were of different faction and held responsibilities elsewhere he would still have to establish his leadership again, despite nothing really changing. 

 

“It can wait for tomorrow,” Asch says, helpfully grabbing a box, it couldn’t really. The longer he left it undone the worse it would look- but Cenarius must already know and at least tonight he could speak with him.  Malfurion suppected his Shando wouldn’t shame him, wouldn’t be upset and Malfurion counted on that because he needed the support after the events of today. 

 

Despite not wanting too, Asch was making him feel better. The soft easy smile as she helped him put things away made him feel less burdened. “This is beautiful!” She gasps, in her outstretched arms was his grand cloak, one made purely of feathers and gold. Asch holds it with the utmost care and excitement, eyes shining as the plated gold shaped like feathers catch the light. 

 

“Ah a gift from Varian Wrynn.” It was a wedding gift, but he wouldn't tell her that. “What kind of feather is this?” She asks, carefully touching one with delicate fingers “Royal Gryphon- a half bird, half lion beast. Beautiful and loyal.” Asch awes at this, “I have never seen such a thing!” Malfurion chuckles, taking it from her and folding it neatly “when we go to Stormwind I will show you their hatchery, the babies are quite playful.” Asch claps excitedly, “I have never seen- what did you call them? Humans? Are they nice?” Malfurion makes a vague noise “most are. You will see many.”

 

Malfurion sometimes forgets she knew little of the outside world and it’s inhabitants, he knows they were recused by humans when Tyrande came for him but he hardly thinks she was looking anywhere but his neck. 

 

In his musings Malfurion had lost sight of Asch, looking for her Malfurion finds her bend over in one of the bigger crates, rummaging around and humming. Malfurion approaches, silent as a panther and slots right behind her, caging her with his arms, hands gripping each side of the crate.

 

“What have you found?” He purrs outright, watching her jump in shock and bump into him. Asch’s head swivels back to look at him,  large doe eyes stare up at him in fright, he can hear her heart pound. “Oh- oh just- just...” She sputters, train of thought lost. 

 

Malfurion coos, one hand now pulling up her pretty dress, exposing a pale purple thigh “just what...?” He asks, fingers finding her cunt, Asch tries to answer him as Malfurion plays with her slit, spreading it open with his fingers. “J-just... just- oh-“ his fingers swirl around her little bud and her legs shake. Malfurion’s other hand holds her up by her belly as her feet slip off the floor, hands uselessly grabbing for purchase on the crate. 

 

“Oh?” He parrots, mocking her, Asch is past listening to him however and Malfurion was fine with that, allowing his fingers to sink inside and please her as she twists in his grip. Malfurion doesn’t remember a time when he’s been so consumed with lust before, not even when he was first married or ever since. But now, now he couldn’t keep his hands to himself, the need to touch was too great and the noises. Elune. The noises coming out of her mouth were too much. 

 

“Please- please don’t- dont t-tease-“ she moans, begging outright, Malfurion leans over excitement pumping in his blood as he nips her ear “What do you want, Asch?” She shivers as arches at the sound of his purr “I... I- Mhm- Mal!” He strikes her walks slowly, cooing at her struggling “yes?” He knew he was being cruel, but he couldn’t help it. 

 

“D-deeper-“ She blurts, face heating up while her ears drop in shame, Malfurion kissing her back, he wasn’t that cruel. “Oh.... ahh- ah!” He gives Asch what she wants, plugging his fingers so deep sge melts in his grip like a puddle. “I’ll- I’m- Mal!” Asch yelps, coming undone in his arms, Malfurion coaxing her pleasure, enjoying the feeling of her cunt squeezing his fingers. 

 

Malfurion pulls her up from the crate, helping her stand as he licked his wet fingers, rumbling happily at the taste. 

 

Malfurion hums around his fingers, watching Asch shake, ears still crestfallen. He tilts his head “what’s wrong pretty elf?” Did she not like it? No... she never rejected him before- was he too forward? 

 

“I-“ she chokes, Malfurion takes hold of her arms and spins her, “Asch? Was it too much?” She shakes her head vehemently, but that only made Malfurion more confused then he already was. “What’s wrong then?” A million thoughts were running through his head as Asch struggles to speak. 

 

“You... I- you never...” She fumbles, Asch squeezes her eyes shut “I’ve never done... done that to you...” Malfurion gapes, completely shocked- she was upset because she never... 

 

“Asch,” he purrs, completely shocking her “would you like to learn?” 

 

 

 

Tyrande always refused to put her mouth on Malfurion, before he thought it was because she believed it was dirty, now he knows it’s because of his knot, but Asch seemed right at home between his legs, face flushed red and ears cutely drooping while she fidgeted. “W-what do I... do?” She asks eagerly, excitement in her pretty eyes. 

 

Malfurion felt his chest swell, “sweet girl, let me show you.” Tyrande wouldn’t dare be put on her knees, she refused such degradation, but what Malfurion sees is power. 

 

Malfurion presses his thumb into her bottom lip, “would you like to use your hands or mouth?” Malfurion wouldn’t force her to do something she wouldn’t like, he knew while Tyrande didn’t like most things that most girl also didn’t like using their mouths for such a thing. 

 

Asch kisses his palm “I... I would like to do what you do- with- with my mouth” his heart clintches and his cock twitches. Malfurion reaches for himself, pulling his cock free and shimmy out of his clothes, Asch pushes them away, blinking up at him with more innocence than she should. 

 

 

Malfurion jerks his cock, staring at her pretty face, grunting softly as she places her hands on his thighs just watching. Asch opens his mouth, hesitantly pushing her head toward his lap. “That’s it hah...” he moans as her mouth closes around the head of his cock. Asch hums around his cock, looking up at him while trying to take more. 

 

“Elune...” he mutters, running his hand through her hair in praise, Asch swallows, taking a little more in her mouth. “C-careful-“ Malfurion groans, “d-don’t choke- oh....” Asch fidgets, thighs squeezing together, Malfurion hisses. She liked this. 

 

 

Asch takes his cock as far down her throat as she could, his knot begun to bulge and Asch reaches for it, fingers forming a ring to close around it. Malfurion thrusts into her mouth, yelping in pleasure “Asch- Asch oh- hah- I’ll- I’ll” Malfurion couldn’t control himself and finished down her throat. Asch pulls off of him, coughing as she tries to swallow. Malfurion pulls her up into his lap “I-I... Asch I’m sorry” she shakes her head, desperately trying to swallow “it- it’s al-alright-“ Malfurion cleans around her mouth with a cloth, kissing the side of her head “did I do- do good?” Malfurion groans hotly “yes pretty elf.” 

 

“Tastes funny,” she mutters drowsily, licking her lips. Malfurion smiles softly, kissing the side of her mouth “good funny?” He wouldn’t be upset if she said differently “yes!” Her throat was still a little croaky “let me take you to bed. We’ll leave all this for tomorrow.” Asch hums in confusion as he throws her over his shoulder “wh-what are you-“ “I’m going to bury my face between your legs until sunrise.”

 

Asch squeaks. 

Chapter 112: Alex/Krasus dabbles 1

Summary:

Alex/Krasus/Original female dragonkin

So sorry I haven’t updated!!! I’ve been really busy with school preping!

Please enjoy this!

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

“Hello young one,” Alexstraza says happily, bending down slightly to eye the young dragon before her. 

 

“H-hello!” Asch squeaks, fidgeting. Alex smiles warmly, “Your horns are beautiful, may I see them?” Asch tilts her head, embarrassed and flushed. Alex touches the points tenderly, humming in appreciation before standing straight again “What may I aid you in?” 

 

 

Asch fiddles with her fingers, gulping before reaching into the bag strung around her shoulder, from it she produces brilliantly coloured stone. Alex gasps, “You’ve chosen me? I am honoured little one.” Asch flames, watching the queen bend and pluck the stone, “I-I wanted... I-“ Alex pauses, still smiling, “What did you want?” Her voice was so kind, her question curious. 

 

“K-korialstrasz...” Alex coos sweetly, “A-and you... m-my lady-“ her queen giggles happily, reaching out and stroking her cheek “Who do you wish for your prime consort?” Asch gasps, beaming “You’ll have me?” Alex pulls her closer, smiling “Of course we will, we love you.” Alex pets her soft pale hair, threading her fingers gently through the strands. 

 

“I w-want Korialstrasz- if that is-“ “It is wonderful,” Alex chirps, kissing her cheek, “Come come, you wish to do it now yes?” Asch licks her lips, nodding quickly, “Please my queen!” Alex laughs happily, pulling her closer, “My mate little one.” 

 

 

Asch shakily intakes, breathing out “My mate...” 

 

 

Korialstrasz was inside the temple, speaking with another red dragon when Alex and Asch approached. The usually stony face lit up with joy at seeing Alex “Beloved,” he calls, smiling gently. The red dragon he was conversing with departs with an elegant and simple bow.

 

“My love,” Alex says, “I have wonderful news!” Korialstrasz quicks a neat brow, curious and amused by his mate. “Aschstraza wishes to become your mate!” Korialstrasz tilts his head, smiling softly at Alex’s excitement. “Does she?” He peers at the dragon attached to Alex’s hip, chuckling at the pink face and downcast eyes. 

 

“She wishes you be her prime consort,” Korialstrasz blinks, “I am... touched.” Alex beams, unable to contain her happiness. Korialstrasz lifts his hand, pulling Asch’s chin up from her chest, examining her pale face. “It is an honour little one,” Asch opens her mouth, but no words come, Korialstrasz smiles, “It is alright to be nervous, but there is no need little one- shall we?” Alex nudges her toward his direction, coaxing her into his open embrace. Asch halts, tries to stay still but Korialstrasz wraps his arms around her middle. 

 

 

Asch blushes badly as he nuzzles his nose onto her hair, behind her Alex coos, hands stroking her back. “To our chambers, my love?” The clever mage asks, already poised to create a portal. Alex nods, “She is far too little for the sky- and too shy.” Asch buried her face in the soft robes as he chuckles. 

 

 

The dragon queen's chambers were beautiful and colourful, fabrics were green, red, yellow and blue- all of the flights colours. The bed was massive, meant for more than two and the bath was lavish and the water that flows from it drains off the side in a beautiful waterfall. 

 

Alex pets Asch’s back once more before kissing her cheek again, “I will return when you have bonded my love.” Asch nuzzles into her neck, as Alex coos, “Our new mate, you are so perfect.” Korialstrasz purrs contently, playing with the fabric at Asch’s hips, pulling at it almost impatiently.

 

Alex places one final kiss on her prime consorts lips before departing, leaving Asch alone with the lord of the red flight. “Thank you,” he whispers to her softly, “For choosing us to be your mates- for choosing me to be your prime consort. I will do everything I can to protect you and our future children.” Asch swallows thickly, “Thank y-you for... allowing me too at a-all.” Korialstrasz tuts, waking backward with her to the bed, “Allow you? We are pleased. You are the only other to want us for mates.” Asch looks up at him puzzled, Korialstrasz smiles, quickly explaining himself. 

 

“You will be the only mate Alexzstraza and I share besides each other, little one.” 

 

 

“O-oh...” Asch stutters, making Korialstrasz chuckles fondly, “Do you like Dalaran, Asch?” Korialstrasz turns them as they approach the end of the bed, gently prodding her into it as he shadows over her. “Oh- I... I have never left Dragonblight.” Korialstrasz hums in consideration. “I will take you there. I will always have you by my side.” It was difficult to be away from Alex, but their duties were vastly different and it meant they spent ample time apart. Korialstrasz was delighted to become Asch’s prime consort because it meant he would never be without a mate. 

Notes:

EDITED
JANUARY 18, 2019

Chapter 113: Illidan dabbles 22

Summary:

Illidan Stormrage/Asch Stormrage

So this is my characters reaction to the tree burning, mostly lol

I haven’t beeen able to write much since my university is starting up but I’ll try and squeeze out a chapter a week- I know it’s not much but it’s something! So enjoy!

Chapter Text

Illidan never understood how precious time was until this very moment. 

 

Wasting thousand of years meant nothing when you had nothing, but now- Standing in his home, shocked and speechless. 

 

He knew how easily it could be lost.

 

Asch- Asch his beloved, his reason for breath and his very conviction was on her knees, wailing into a void of her own making.

 

No. The Banshee Queen’s making.

 

Edan, his very image and essence was folded in silence, no tears fell from his eyes but the sorrow was plain upon his face. Asch was the only one who lived in Darnassus- really lived there. 

 

And now it was black dust and heaps of their dead people. 

 

Once shock faded from him, Illidan felt rage greater then anything he had felt in a long time. He was doomed to be here and his sacrifice- Asch’s sacrifice was once again, squabbled away because of something so petty as resources. War was now being waged on all fronts- not months after the Legion was extinguished because the witch was Warchief and the boy king had no choice. 

 

Edan- thank all the gods was in Stormwind when news broke, the tree up in flames while his son and Atam were visiting the markets. To think a simple errand saved his heir from certain death. 

 

Illidan curls his lip, slamming his fist into the counter top, shaking his wings while his children curled from his rage. First he said,

 

“This is not our war.” 

 

Edan looks up in utter shock- disbelief perhaps and maybe even rage, but he does not speak to challenge his father, only glances away in thought. Kair gasps, as if it was unspeakable “but father-“ “I will not argue!” Tadeas was far to young to dispute his father and all-together ignored him in favour of comforting his grieving mother, Yllidis was crying softly but made hardly a sound and knew nothing of what was happening around him. 

 

“But our people!” Kair tires again, now snarling and standing ridged, she was beautiful, so truly and purely. Illidan knew there was nothing quite like his daughter anywhere in any world and it pained him to do this.

 

“Our people are here!” He would not have this. He would not have Asch, Edan or Kairous die for something so pointless. “You were born here. Your life is here. I will not have you lose it.” His daughters eyes fill with tears, her heart seems to break within that very moment and she collapses to the floor with her mother, cupping her face into her hands. 

 

“I’ve got them,” Edan mutters suddenly, eyes dull and drawn, as if he was exhausted. Illidan watches his son take Yllidis from his mother, press a long, loving kiss to her temple and gather Tadeas up. It takes some doing but he manages to use his brute strength to pull Kair up from her knees. Without much else he stalks away to his room, no doubt to sooth the wounds so clear in Kair. 

 

Illidan knew he would have to apologize to his only daughter, that she would be very upset with him for a very long time- he only hopes she understands why some day.

 

“Asch?” His wife was slumped on her knees, her crying only soft whispers now. There was no fight in her as illdain pulled her up to his chest, only hallow eyes and pale skin. She was frail, weightless despite being half way into her pregnancy with their twins, both healthy and unaware of this latest tragedy. 

 

Illidan knew she would hear nothing of his comfort, but he still provided it as he set her down in their bed. Like Edan he would have to be a weight, silent to whatever abuse Asch could muster- screaming, cursing or crying. He would not let her go. Maybe she would have some- maybe none at all. 

 

What he wasn’t prepared for was- 

 

“You’re right.”

 

acceptance. 

 

Asch’s voice was hoarse and far away, like a frigid breeze, her eyes focused on nothing as the final word left her mouth. Right. 

 

Illidan never felt so wrong. 

 

“I am so sorry my love.” Illidan says, Asch’s eyes twinkle over and tears begin to fill her cheeks again anew. Illidan pulls her into his lap and she cries, hands on his chest in fists and head hung in defeat “the children...” she moans, “there were so many children-“ the tree was no war zone- it was not ready for siege or what followed. It housed the most precious parts of their people.

 

The women and children. 

 

Illidan closes his eyes, there was pain in his chest- pain because it could have been his children if they got what they wanted and lived there and even more from the countless lives lost. Edan told him what happened- but didn’t know why it happened. The Warchief wanted the tree that much was obvious- why she burnt it was a mystery that maybe would be solved, for now it was puzzling and painful. 

 

Malfurion would pay any price that much Illidan knew- so why kill so many useful bartering tools? Tyrande would trade her life if it meant the freedom of her people’s. Darnassus was far from the most prestigious trophy and it was surrounded by Alliance territory that Illidan last knew. The Banshee Queen might have known that she could not hold the city for long- instead she burnt it assuring no one could have it.  

 

Illidan shakes his head, deciding that it was hardly worth his time to wonder about the motives of a foolish women and her goals.

 

Instead he mourns the life lost and holds his wife while she cries, only hoping he can comfort her. 

 

 

The evening lost its colour to a black sky, the news had spread and much to Illidan’s surprise there was no fighting among his Illidari, not one incident between the elves. Illidan could waste time wondering why- but the only answer he came up with was that they did not want to. All those interested in going home, returning to their Horde and Alliance had. 

 

Illidan was grateful he supposed, he would have to leave and deal with it if there had been fighting. 

 

A sudden kiss was pressed to his throat and made Illidan flinch from thought, before he spoke Asch whispered in his chest “I’m tired,” and slid off his lap and into the covers. Illidan closes his eyes, sighing softly “I will see to Kair,” he tells her and leaves with another gentle kiss. Asch musters a smile.

 

 

Edan slumped over, almost drained of all life- he was tired and worried. Atam was with her father but promised to stop by before it became far to late. All things considered they were lucky. Lucky. 

 

Those children and mothers and priestess’ weren’t lucky. 

 

Maybe if he had been there he could have saved them- 

 

“Edan.” He didn’t realize the tears falling out of his eyes until his father’s voice came from behind him. “Ada...” Edan weakly calls, shouldering shaking in effort “is she alright?” Kair- no. Absolutely not. 

 

“She’s sleeping.” His father sighs, nodding his head, “Atam?” Edan felt his throat jump. “She’s... she’s okay.” 

 

He felt his father sit behind him. 

 

“You are my son.” He begins, “do you know what that means?” 

 

Edan rubs his eyes, sniffling softly “that I only belong here?” He feels his father’s knuckles brush between his folded wings, “no.” 

 

“It means when you are ready, you will become the lord of the Illidari. That your first born will and then on.” Air escapes his lungs and Edan cannot find the will to breathe, his father’s hand continues to pet his back. “Your place is here, just as your sisters and your mothers.” Edan knew that, he hated to hear it. But he knew. 

 

“What about uncle Mal? Aunt Tyrande?” The band pauses, but than continues “alive as I was told.” Illidan didn’t sound as though he believed it himself. 

 

“I met the king,” Edan blurts out, “he... thought I was... you.” Illidan has never met the boy king or his father. Heard of them yes. But never saw. “He thought I came to help- he... he looked so lost.” 

 

“This is his first war.” Illidan mutters, “he will be lost for some time.” Edan was lost, confused and scared. Except his son would come into his crown when Illidan believed him ready for it. 

 

“Ada?” His father hums, waiting. 

 

“Atam knows. I think she’s coming to tell me.” Edan knew about the baby before she had any idea or signs of it. Father pressed his fist into Edan’s spine “it’s going to be fine.” 

 

The first time since his father entered, Edan looks back, “I know, ada.”

Chapter 114: Volbin dabbles 1

Summary:

Volbin Swiftmoon/Asch Cinnis (Original Male Night-Elf/Original Female Night-Elf)

Sorry I've been away! But I come with a new gift! My boyfriend and my RP Characters! (ooo exciting! canon Asch lol)
I hope you enjoy these two because I plan on writing a lot for them!

Chapter Text

 

 

The distant sound of birds chirping, leaves rustling and wind whistling filled the overly quiet forest of Suramar as Volbin walked the familiar path. Dead leaves crunched under his feet as he meandered along the gravel and stone path, admiring the sprouting flowers that grew along the road.

The sun was high in the sky, warming his beautiful mellow blue skin, Volbin’s soft, shoulder length teal hair shook in the breeze as he continued down the path. 

Volbin had taken to coming here as often as he could allow himself, no one but him and a few deer had ever taken these stone paths.

As he walks he looks at the trees, admiring their yellow and red leaves, watching the breeze knock them loose into the forest floor, until he comes up to a rather colorful lump. Volbin blinks, staring at the odd pile of what seemed to be flowers and feathers covering the path, he had never seen them grow in this forest, not deep in the woods or sitting along the path. Bending down he pulled on from the pile, a pink rose without a cut to it’s stem. “Odd,” he thought, than suddenly something hit his head. It was soft and fell straight off, but Volbin’s eyes dart to where it had rolled and to his surprise it was another rose. 

Perfect and full in every way, not a single petal loose or wilted. Volbin snatches it from the ground. It smelt beautiful up close and looked just as captivating. Volbin begin to lose himself in it's beauty until yet another one fell, but this time straight down. 

 

Finally, Volbin looks up, his golden yellow eyes widening at what he saw. 

 

Straight above him a was girl- or at least an overly large white dress.

The bell overflowed and just barely could Volbin could see pink bare feet, toes curled and dripping with blood. 

 

Volbin lurched to his feet, flower dropping from his hand, “Hello?!” He called without thinking. The dress jolted in the tree and a soft, but loud gasp came from the leaves. “Please help!” The girl called, both terror and relief in her oddly captivating voice. 

For a moment Volbin hesitates, frowning at the smooth white trunk, wondering just how he was suppose to get up. 

Seeing no other choice he channeled his power and transformed into a great owl and flew up to the thick branch the girl was stuck on. There was plenty of room for him to find his footing and see exactly why she was stuck. As Volbin surveyed over the mess of dress he could see in the branches just above another lump of cloth, sheer and flimsy looking was wrapped and caught in the branches. Seeing no other option- besides carefully undoing the mess like untangling string, he says, “I’m going to cut you free.” The girl wiggles, but than stops, a worried sigh escaping her lips before she responded, “O-okay..” 

Volbin pulls a knife from his belt and heaves a sigh, grabbing an end he slices the fabric, careful not to cut her pale white hair. Cut by cut Volbin could see the tree losing hold and finally when he severed the last bit that held the girl together with the branches she was free. 

“Stay still,” he says, upon examining further he found her hands were bloody and cut, he assumes from trying to break the sharp branches. Volbin’s clever hands found her middle and pulled her to him, “Don’t panic” he says, but feels her flinch in his grasp already. Volbin slides off the trunk and despite telling her, the girl lets a loud yelp free, bearing into him.

Volbin lets her go after a moment, “You are free... my... lady-“ He trails off, eyes wide as she turns to face him, sparkling white eyes hold happiness, relief and a great beauty. Her cheeks were flushed and covered purple by the ornate pattern of a leaf, around the edges were scratches, long healed but did not take away from her absolute beauty. 

The girl smiles at him, a full and happy one, despite not knowing her, he could tell it was genuine. “Thank you so very much!” The girl chirps, “I was stuck up there for an awful long time!” Her ears droop slightly, many earrings twinkling in the sun.

Volbin took a moment to look over her, the dress had over taken his space and spilled into his legs, but was soft to the touch and elegantly made. The bodice wrapped around her tightly and accented her thin and soft frame. Once his eyes reached her face again he finally found out where the flowers had been coming from. One, as if by magic bloomed from her hair, right under her ear and fell to the ground, than another and another- even feathers fluttered to the ground, all seemingly coming from her.

“I can’t thank you enough,” she says, bringing him out of his trance “is there anything I can do to repay your kindness?” Volbin swallows, mouth twitching in hesitation, watching as she dusted off her dress, leaving red stains. “You’re hurt,” Volbin says suddenly, fighting the urge to look at her wounds.

“It doesn’t hurt!” Already he can tell she’s lying. “It does, let me see.” The girl holds her hands closed before slowly extending them to him. Volbin couldn’t tell how badly they were hurt because of the blood and dirt caking her hands. Without a second thought he grabs hold of her and lifts her off her feet, securing his hands under her soft legs and back.

“Wait-“ she starts. “I know a river not far from here. Your hands need to be cleaned and dressed.” Volbin walked, seemingly oblivious he never got permission.

The river wasn’t far from the path, it took a short walk- longer than it usually took but Volbin had time. 

 

Gently, Volbin placed her on a rock, grabbing his cloak he ripped a large stripe and tore it in two, “let me see your feet” The girl pulled up her dress just enough to show her bloody feet, Volbin squints at the mess and drenches the cloth “tell me if it hurts.” First he wipes the cloth around her foot, “What’s your name?” Volbin decides to ask “Asch- what’s yours?” Asch jolts in pain but there’s still a smile in her face “Volbin.” 

The cuts on her feet were deep, the blood had slowed to a tickle “you must be curious” she says. It was an understatement.

“You were getting married,” that much he knew, the dress and the veil he cut out of the tree was telling enough. “No I wasn’t!” Asch insists, Volbin looks up at her, brow drawn and he gestures to her dress “well... I knew I wasn’t...” Asch plays with her hair as he wraps her feet “my father- he wanted me to get married... I- I didn’t” Volbin nods along to her words “and how did you end up in a tree, Asch?”

Asch laughs, a melodic, light sound “my brother taught me how to transform- but I...  I’m not good at flying. My wing was caught but when I changed back- well...” Volbin snorts, starting her hands, being gentle with her fingers. He wasn’t really paying attention to his work, rather watching her face grow sad “I’m not sure if I can go home anymore.” 

“What do you mean?” Volbin stares up at her, holding her hands in his tenderly. Asch looks anywhere but his face, eyes full of tears “my father is...” he watches her swallow, shudder and just as she was about to begin again there was a roar and barking, faint snarling can be heard.

Asch springs to her feet, Volbin scrambles to catch her “that’s- that’s-“ Asch clings to him, bloody wraps soaking into his arms “you have to go!” Volbin feels her trying to push him away, but it’s a completely wasted effort “we have to go.” He says oddly calm, Asch’s shiny eyes stare up at him, full of confusion and fright. Behind them both his hand plays a practiced spell, just as the portal opens Volbin hears the dogs and without a second thought, he pushes her back into it.

 

Arrows fling passed him, stabbing the ground, Volbin grunts, jerking forward as one hits his shoulder, he follows Asch and he can still hear the shouting even as he’s enveloped. 

 

 

Chapter 115: Volbin dabbles 2

Summary:

Volbin Swiftmoon/Asch Cinnis
(Original male/original female nightelf)

Oh my gosh I’m so sorry I’ve been so busy I wasn’t able to update this story in a timely manner! Please forgive me! I’ll try to do better!

Chapter Text

 

Asch squeaks as she falls, than shivers at the frozen hill she now sits in. Harsh cold wind whipped at her face, causing all the warmth in her to vanish.

 

Suddenly Volbin stumbles out of the portal, gripping his shoulder, Asch gasps “They hit you! I’m so-“ Volbin snarls as he rips the arrow out, glaring at the barbed tip before breaking the wooden stem and tossing it in the snow. 

 

“I’m alright,” he insists, Asch can feel the tears on her cheeks freezing and resists the urge to cry, only because she knows they would crystallize before they left her eyes. “Here, let me help you,” He says, pulling her. Asch goes willingly- more than willingly, she was freezing and her dress was meant for summer weather. 

 

Her arms and the top of her chest was bare to the cold and Volbin was covered in fur and warm. 

 

Asch doesn’t bother asking where he was taking her, only watches the snow become dotted with both of their blood. 

 

Asch had seen more than her share of blood,  her life as a midwife- though short and painful for her, it made her accustom to blood. 

 

Asch doesn’t dare remove her face from the warmth of the fur attached to Volbin, knowing her face would freeze just as the rest of her was. Her toes were stiff and frozen, her back was hurt by the whipping wind and almost felt like she would pass out from the cold, that is until the sudden rush of warmth hit her.

 

Asch peaks out, looking around and seeing nothing but darkness, Asch couldn’t understand how Volbin knew where he was going, but sure enough he walked on and after a moment placed her on the hard floor, which Asch could tell was packed dirt or clay. 

 

Asch felt the cold seeping back into her and shivers violently, the blood from her hands had begun to trickle down her fingers, cold as rolled steel. Asch was almost blinded by the sudden light of the fire, immediately she rushes for it, uncaring of anything else. 

 

Volbin hesitates for a moment, watching Asch scramble to the great hearth in his empty hall, her lips were a sickly shade he didn’t recognize and her back was exposed and only now did he see it was bleeding down her dress too. 

 

Quickly he lights a few more braziers around the lit hearth and leaves the torch, “Asch?” He calls, watching her shake, she doesn’t respond but looks at him, face dirty but still beautiful. 

 

“Stay right there.” He knew she wouldn’t get very far, but he felt better when she nodded to his command.

 

Volbin goes to his storage, knowing there would be dressings there for her wounds. He himself prepared them- he was careless with himself but at least it forced him to learn a good trade. 

 

Volbin gathered towels, a pot and bandages, he found Asch curled in front of the fire, her dress would have looked beautiful, if not for all the slice marks. “Asch?” She was staring at her hands, the flames showed him that her arms were caked in blood. 

 

Volbin swallows, and places the pot full of water beside her, “Let me see.” 

 

First he starts with her face, cleaning the dust and dirt, revealing her pale cheeks “does it hurt?” He mutters, cleaning her arms, Asch shakes her head “n-no not really...” Volbin is careful cleaning her hands, the welts- no rips in her hands were draining blood, worse than her feet. Volbin shutters softly, taking another cloth and this time wrapping them tightly. 

 

They sit in silence as he cleans the other, making sure to wash all the dried blood away before leaning back and treating her feet. They were still cut in stripes but far better then what he saw of her hands and wraps them lightly. 

 

“Asch?” She looks at him. “Your back- I...” Volbin makes an awkward gesture and her face grows pink, but she nods without a word and turns, pulling her long hair over her shoulder, some small yellow flowers fall out of her hair and pool in her dress. Volbin takes a moment to admire them before draining another cloth and gently rubbing it along her back, the cuts here were no larger than cat scratches. 

 

Volbin watches them for a moment, waiting for them to well up with blood, when they didn’t he sighed gratefully. “Is there... a place I can sleep?” Asch asks in a whispered tone. Volbin blinks, distracted “y-yes...I... Yes there is.” 

 

Volbin rarely has guests- never- Volbin never had a guest before. Volbin presses his warm knuckles to her frozen back, Asch arches into him, her spine twists and her breath exhales harshly. Volbin frowns, “Stay here.” 

 

Volbin would have to give her some of his own blankets. He sighs. Being cold for a few nights wouldn’t kill him. 

 

It might kill her. 

 

Quickly he gathers most of the furs on his bed and goes down the hall, making up another room, it was dusty and unused- every corner had cobwebs. Volbin dumps the blankets, knowing even if he made the bed she would undo it in seconds. The last thing he did was light the small fireplace in the room before leaving.

 

 

“Asch?” He calls again. Asch peers up at him, eyes barely holding themselves open “Come here,” she goes willingly, winding her arms around his neck. The only thing that was heavy about her was the dress she wore. Volbin would have to find her something better before long- what that was he would worry about later. 

 

“I’ll change your bandages in the morning,” Volbin whispers softly, knowing she was barely paying attention. Asch nods, but he knows she had stopped listening to him long ago. 

 

 

Gently, he puts her on the bed and lets her be a moment, watching her sink into the fur, he lets himself smile when he realizes she had fallen asleep. 

 

 

 

 

 

Asch had awoken with a gasp, heart pounding and head burning. Asch gulps breath as she realizes it was just a nightmare. 

 

Pulling at the furs she feels her hands throb. They were bleeding through again, Asch hisses in pain, looking at the linen stained with deep red. 

 

Inside there was no window to tell whether or not how late or early it was, but Asch gets up anyway, standing on wobbly feet and leaves. There was no light anywhere in the hall, but she walked, hoping she would find something. It took her to the very end until she saw the faintest light shining from under a heavy wooden dark door, barely open.

 

Asch knocks, watching it hardly move from the pressure, a grunt came from behind it and Asch, for a moment thinks she has disturbed him, but upon opening the door a bit more, using all her strength, Asch realizes Volbin was very awake.

 

The other Druid looks up at her, hands bloody and face twisted in frustration, suddenly Asch remembers he was hurt. 

 

“What’s wrong?” He says, Asch thinks it was the oddest thing he could have said in that moment, because all she can ask is, “Are you alright?”

 

Volbin flexes his injured shoulder, grimacing but still managing a tight smile. “Of... course,” Asch frowns, “let me see.” His clothes were discarded haphazardly around his feet, making his lush blue skin shine with a hue of beautiful orange. It almost looked like a sunset- Asch swallows, and shakes her head. 

 

Volbin sighs, but twists his upper body so she can see, wincing when she gasped in pain. Asch snatches the bloody wet cloth from his hands and starts cleaning his shoulder. “You should be sleeping.” Asch hears him scold, an almost fond tone in his voice. Asch smiles, “I was.” 

 

Volbin grunts when Asch brushes over his wound, it was no bigger then the tip of her finger, but it was bleeding a lot. “Here-“ he hands her long stripes of bandages, Asch begins wrapping.

 

“How do you know what to do?” Volbin mutters, watching his floor become littered in flowers. “I was training as a midwife- we learn how to care for soldiers first...” her hands stops for a moment, perhaps remembering something terrible before continuing with a gentle shake of her head.

 

“Now you are a Druid- why?” It was very uncommon even today for women to become Druids- even more uncommon for Asch considering she was in an arranged marriage to begin with. 

 

Asch laughs and it fills his room, “I liked being a midwife- bringing little ones into the world... but than it became painful...” Volbin ponders her words. Watching women become mothers was a beautiful thing indeed, but watching it forever- without children of your own. 

 

Volbin can’t imagine a more wretched pain. 

 

“My brother loved me enough to teach me what he knew- I’m... not very good yet but I want to get better!” Volbin laughs softly at the pride in her voice, “There!” Asch cheers, tying the ends together “Don’t sleep on it!”

 

Gently, Volbin flexes his shoulder, testing the binding, it was tight but not restricting. Asch did a fine job. “Thank you,” Asch hums, smiling brightly “Still it’s late.” Her ears crest a little at his scolding “Do you need help back?” Before he can finish she’s already shaking her head “No no- I won’t trouble you!” It wasn’t trouble- but he knew she would argue it was. 

 

“Goodnight Volbin!” Volbin inhales sharply, “goodnight Asch.”

 

He watches her leave, flowers falling behind her.

Chapter 116: Traumatize dabbles 1

Summary:

Bronze Dragon/high elf

 

I’m really sorry everyone, I’ve been neglecting this- I’ve been swamped with school and I’m a little stressed out overall.

I can’t promise I’ll have regular updates to this but I can promise that I’m not dumping it.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

The bar was full and smelt like cheap beer, all around were undesirable people, and in the darkest corner sat the most undesired. 

 

 

None dared to look at him more than once, but he was an Impressive sight to behold. Under the candle light you could easily tell he was not of the mortal realm, the soft shimmer of golden scales caught the light and told anyone who looked that he was a bronze dragon.

 

But those who did dare look, could see the molten orange of his eyes and the barely pin-sized black slit that was identifiable as his pupil. 

 

 

The bronze drake waits there, eyes watching all of the patrons, uninterested until the door eased open and his guest walked through. It was a woman, someone who bought his audience. She walks timidly through the crowded chairs, obviously not used to such a place. Traumatize's eyes narrow as he watches her, a dangerous smile stretching over his handsome face. 

 

She looks around for a moment, searching for him and as she found him she jumped, then scurried toward him like a mouse. “Y-you- you’re t-the dr-dragon assassin...?” Traumatize tilts his head, brows drawn up, “What do you think?” His voice was like polished marble and made her shake in fear. 

 

“Y-you have- you have horns-“ Traumatize rolls his eyes, a dull expression overtaking his face “I know. Stop wasting my time.” She paid him to hear her contract, not to talk of his appearance. “S-sorry-“ Traumatize snatches the envelope she carried in with her and glares into her eyes. “Is this it?” Usually his fees were paid in full, but this was a special case, apparently. 

 

First he would be paid for the contract, then when he brought back the proof, but this one was more complicated than his normal ones. Traumatize wouldn’t have accepted, but the payout was outrageous. 

 

“Y-yes-" the girl said, eyes refusing to meet his. “Tell me about this ‘special issue then?” The girl had refused to say anything before meeting him. “I-“ she starts then stops, wringing her hands “M-my sister...” Traumatize sighs, now bored “Killing family isn’t special girl-" “No-!” She squeaks “Not- not kill! Never! Save her- I...” she huffs “My father sent her to be married off to a man she doesn’t love.” Traumatize lets out a loud groan in response. “I don’t save people. I kill them.”

 

 

Traumatize sighs, flicking his head back. “Please just- please listen!” she squeals, soft voice rising. Traumatize glares at her, eyes smouldering. “Speak quickly.” 

 

“I want you to kill her fiancé and bring her home,” she squeaks in a hurry, “her name is-" “I don’t need her name.” He interjects, standing and surprising her. “So- so you’ll-“ “where would you have her returned?” Traumatize hates the happy look on her face. 

 

“At my home in-“ “I don’t care. I will be there with your sister in under a week.” 

 

 

Before Traumatize agrees to any contract he learned every little secret about his employer. The employer's name was Genevieve Firedawn, her and her sister shared the last name, and before all this both lived at their fathers mansion- that was until the younger sister, Asch Firedawn was sold off to a noble Sin’dorei by the name of Altair Umbra. The man was wealthy, and oddly attached to the other faction- evident because the Firedawn family was the other. One Alliance girl and Horde man.

 

The family Firedawn were high elves, the most likely scenario in Traumatize’s mind was their father missed his lavish lifestyle and decided to barter with his daughters, giving them away like broodmares- well, the one. Genevieve was barren and could have no children.

 

From a photo he had uncovered in his search Traumatize knew she was beautiful, pale, and young. Ideal for a noble lord. 

 

 

Traumatize runs a hand over his face, leaving the bar into the light where everyone around suddenly looked at him. He glares, mortals were infuriating. Traumatize has lived in Stormwind for years now, and everyone knew of the bronze dragon- because he was not hiding. 

 

He breathes, silent as smoke lazily drifts from his mouth, Traumatize seethes quietly, agitated- obvious to any who looked. And everyone was looking.

 

 

Traumatize snorts harshly, dispersing the smoke from his face as he trudges into Stormwind. 

 

Notes:

EDITED
JANUARY 22, 2019

Chapter 117: Volbin dabbles 3

Summary:

Volbin Swiftmoon/Asch Cinnis
(Original male Nightelf/original female Nightelf)

Hi!!! I’m very sorry, the update is overdue and I feel bad for making everyone wait so long! Pleas enjoy this chapter!

Chapter Text

 

 

 

A few days pass uneventful, almost like they usually had. Volbin was barely inconvenienced by Asch- in fact he had to tell her she wasn’t many times, which mostly amused him. Asch insisted she wouldn’t be a burden and begun to take it upon herself to actually clean. 

 

Volbin was sure some of the dust in the hall was older than even he was. 

 

Everyday he would wake to find her cleaning something new, in the places she already finished he would find flowers in vases that Volbin didn’t know he had. Today he found her standing on her tip toes, desperately trying to reach something above her on a shelf. Volbin suppressed a laugh before coming up behind her. 

 

Asch gasp as he lifts her, twisting in his grip “Oh-! Volbin!” He smiles up at her, brow raised “I thought I would lend you a hand- well. Two.” Asch’s face brightens, a flush runs over her nose and cheeks. 

 

Dust stirs above them as Asch works, “You didn’t have to help!” Volbin rolls his eyes fondly, “You didn’t have to clean. Yet you still are.” Asch huffs a sigh, “Alright alright.” Volbin tries to ignore how good Asch smells while she works.

 

Asch taps his shoulder and carefully he puts her down, Asch wipes her face, it doesn’t help take the dirt off her face at all and Volbin finds it rather endearing. 

 

Suddenly Volbin realizes how close he is and takes a fumbling step back, a strange feeling stirring in the pit of his stomach, Asch doesn’t notice his sudden awkwardness. “How did you find this place?” Asch moves on as she speaks, wiping down counters and stones that already look clean. “Oh- by accident really. I have no reason to stay any place for very long... I just came upon it in my travels,” Volbin states, still noticeably offput.

 

Asch hums, “A wanderer? That’s lonely!” She makes it sound less so with her voice, sweet as honey. “And you?” Volbin asks averting the conversation from himself.

 

His history was long and harsh, something he doesn’t want to return too, even in memory. 

 

“I don’t know yet- this is the first time I’ve been away from home!” Somehow she was still cheerful “I would like to find a place- settle down- have a family...” Asch was full of longing, her eyes far away and sad “I have four brothers- they don’t like me very much but I love them and...” she pauses, then shakes her head “I would love to have that someday!”

 

Asch continues to talk as she cleans, Volbin mindlessly follows, entranced by her voice “Azor just had a baby- a boy! I don’t know his name though- I didn’t get to meet him before my father and I left.” Volbin assumes she meant for her wedding. 

 

“Which... which is something I should go back to...” she stops and Volbin almost crashes into her “Volbin I- I should go back... my father he-“ her eyes shine with tears. “He’s a... difficult man- I shouldn’t have left.” Volbin’s face twists in a frown, “They had dogs chasing to find you- you told me you weren’t getting married.” If she wanted to get married she would have stayed- if her would-be husband was any kind of good man he wouldn’t have dogs go after her and bowmen at the ready  he thought to himself. 

 

Asch began to panic, wringing the dirty cloth in her hands “No- it's fine! Volbin my father will have you killed- I can’t let you-"

 

“You didn’t want to get married. Your father did. And I do not fear your father.” 

 

“You should!” She snaps, beauty twisted in her anger. “You have to take me back! I... I can’t- you-" “I will hear no more of this!” Volbin snarls, instantly regretting it when she recoils, eyes averted and downcast “Asch I...” he reaches out to touch her, “he can’t find you here, I promise. You’re safe. I can keep you safe.” 

 

Asch shakes her head “I’m not worried what will happen to me!” 

 

Volbin fumes quietly, glaring at her before losing all the strength to be angry. “Let me show you something.”

 

Pulling her gently by the elbow Volbin leads her outside, stepping into the snow first so she has a path to walk through. Volbin doesn’t go far from the doors, left open to the cold and snow behind him. Asch was shaking from the cold, but Volbin presses on- he wouldn’t make her stay outside for long.

 

“Do you see where we are?” He asks, knowing she wouldn’t know the answer, before Asch even shook her head he continues. “Your father can’t possibly find you here. It is more dangerous and far colder than any place he would ever know.” 

 

Asch glares at the snow for a moment, throwing her gaze along it, maybe hoping it would melt under her scrutiny, but finally she sighs. “Now let us go back inside. And I will hear nothing of your father.” 

 

Satisfied, Volbin thought that it was over. 

 

He thought wrong. 

 

 

It had been an accident- completely. Volbin decided to check on her and was very surprised to find the grand door to the hall propped open, letting a drift of snow in.

 

Volbin glares, growl vibrating in his chest as he pulls his heavy cloak on. The snow has only begun to cover his older footfalls, but hers were clearly visible- so he followed them. Trying not to think of anything worse than the cold freezing his cheeks. 

 

Volbin supposes this was more preferable to fighting another world threat. The last and most recent being Kil’jaeden and his tomb. Volbin saw friends die in there and never return. He was one of the lucky few to see the right hand of Sargeras defeated. It brought him no pleasure and when Argus was exposed like a rotting wound, Volbin had had enough. Furious at Illidan- enraged by Khadgar for even allowing such a thing to come to pass, he left. Volbin would donate his services no longer to their cause. He wished them all well- but he would not die for another mans crusade.

 

Not again. 

 

Draenor was his home, ever since he came upon it during- yet another one of Khadgar’s escapades. Which- also, ultimately failed and brought Gul’dan back into their world. 

 

 

Volbin continues to follow the prints in the snow, slightly (though it infuriated him to think it) impressed at just how far Asch managed to get in nothing more than a summer dress meant for no more than the cool breeze of a warm day. Asch had so far been a surprising woman, Volbin made a rather large assumption when he thought she lived a sheltered life- he knew very little, but what he did told him quite a bit.

 

Asch had said she had four older brothers- uncommon for most human families to start with, extremely rare for elves. It told him her father was a man with many goals and ideas for his children. Asch was also arranged to marry some nobleman- no common man would hunt with dogs- and they had come from the city in Suramar. Volbin only knew of rich and high class citizens to inhabit it.

 

After the rise and fall of Gul’dan, nightborne rose in power and esteem very quickly, returning to the glory they once had when Volbin was a much younger man. Asch’s father seemed intent on collecting some of that power by selling his only daughter. Volbin curls his lip, the very idea of it sickened him.

 

Asch was so afraid of her father that she would rather die in the freezing snow than endanger him. Volbin never once feared his parents, not his mother and especially not his father. They were kind and loving and died far to quickly. But- Asch grew up very differently.

 

She and him were the same, night elves. But- they weren’t. 

 

Volbin knew they were different because she held herself very tall, poised and when she spoke it sounded like she was excited to say anything- as if no one ever had allowed her before. Maybe they hadn’t. Asch was raised with expections, a worth to her person Volbin never had, with the consequences that came with failing them.

 

In the small amount of time she had spent with him she had cleaned- and liked it. No one Volbin knew ever liked cleaning. Not even his mother. 

 

 

The sudden sound of a scream broke the stillness, shaking him to attention. Volbin looks up through the snow and sees wolves circling about a hundred meters away. Instantly he picked his pace up.

 

Wolves circle prey. 

 

“Asch!” From the pack rose a cry and Volbin glares at the wolves now looking his way, watching their jaws snap in interest and teeth shine from drool. Volbin didn’t want to hurt them, but waits as they all move away from her to begin circling around him. Asch stayed in the snow, scared and freezing.

 

Volbin watches the wolves begin to enclose around him, and right before they pounced on him, he lifted his hands and they glowed green. In mere seconds vines and roots sprung up from the ground and locked around the legs of the wolves, not hurting them, but stopping them. They struggle and snarl, some bite at the binds but the roots only tighten. 

 

Volbin jumps out of the circle, arms sprouting feathers to give him a lift before they change back, and pulls Asch out of the snow, saying nothing as he takes her back. 

 

The gravity of his disappointment was clear in his face, he knew. Asch shriveled in his grasp, eyes not daring to look at anything but the ground. 

 

Volbin follows his footsteps all the way back to the hall and lets her go once safely inside, “What were you thinking?!” he snaps, furious and unable to stop himself. Asch doesn’t look at him. “They could have killed you!” He throws his hands up in anger, but then watches her flinch and suddenly feels terrible. 

 

Asch looked as if she expected him to strike her.

 

Volbin feels his stomach lurch in pain. 

 

“I’m- I’m sorry!” Asch cries, “I- I...” she trails off, in tears. Volbin feels wretched, he should have known better. Struck with so much emotion, he finally realized this was no permanent solution. “It is truly so terrible here?” Volbin asks instead, Asch’s face twists again. 

 

“He will kill you.” Volbin snorts, though not from humour.

 

“Darnassus will be the safest place for you. We leave in the morning.”  

 

 

Volbin by no means was adept at portals- but he used them enough to understand how to get to a few locales, even if he was sometimes off. They ended up just outside the city, a short walk to the main gates. Volbin stands by the mouth of the portal,  feeling the chill on his back and the wind brushing his hair. Asch has fists full of her dress, holding the cumbersome weight away from her feet. 

 

“Thank you,” Asch says, face still full of happiness, even if it doesn’t reach her eyes. “You’ve done more than enough for me.” Volbin cannot bring himself to speak, overcome with emotions he hasn’t felt in years. Asch’s smile wavers, then becomes pained as Volbin curtly nods, speaking softly, "Goodbye Asch."

 

“Goodbye Volbin...” Asch spins around, and Volbin watches her.

 

She doesn’t look back. 

 

 

Volbin feels cold. 

Chapter 118: Volbin dabbles 4

Summary:

Volbin Swiftmoon/Asch Swiftmoon
Original male character/original female character

Chapter Text

 

Loneliness settled in quickly, regret even faster. 

 

The flowers Asch had left around the hall had already begun to wilt and die. For some reason Volbin has never expected them to, touching one he watched it crumble to dust and felt his heart strain. 

 

It had only been a handful of days but Volbin knew he had made an awful mistake. 

 

Without another thought he waves his hands and creates a portal to Darnassus. The exact spot he had before, not even a foot off. What he found didn’t surprise him. Volbin wasn’t foolish enough to think she would be there, waiting for him. As he turned back towards the portal he notices something out of place in the corner of his eye.

 

Turning around once more to the road and letting the magic fade, he examined the scene before him. Not far off from the portal, only a few steps away and on the road he found wilted flowers, something he wouldn’t have bat an eye at before. But now he knew that they were never wilted. They were dead and dry, never actually alive. Volbin knew only one person that could do this.

 

The gates were not far off and Volbin hurries to find anyone who might have answers, following the trail of wilted flowers. Going from one to the next, knowing he looked like a raving madmen, he continued- asking if anyone had seen a pale pink girl in a tattered wedding dress until finally, he heard someone in a flower patch not far off pipe up.

 

“I saw someone like that,” she says, looking him up and down- as if worried he had terrible intentions. “You have?!” Volbin allows himself to hope, as the girl nods carefully, brushing her white robes. “She was walking on the path until some soldiers caught up to her- I didn’t see where they had come from but a mage with them created a portal somewhere.” Volbin felt his heart drop, a large part of him had known they would find her, but he had let himself dare think something-anything else could have happened.

 

He had hoped she would have been sad, left the trail of wilted flowers and he would find her lonely in the city- but he also wasn’t a fool. 

 

“They were Shaldorei-“ the girl says, wringing her hands, “They wore dark armour and a tabard with a red moon on it... that’s all I saw.” Volbin felt his breath stop, his heart squeeze. “Thank you!” he blurts, watching the girl jolt at the sudden and loudness of his voice. Without another word Volbin set off, both knowing and not knowing where to go. 

 

 

Suramar city was thriving, Volbin had never seen it so busy. People of all kinds were crowding the shops for the finest goods and magic, the Shaldorei boasting about themselves and their works. Volbin thanked the gods at how pompous they had become, each building, shop and even lamppost had a banner exclaim from just whose district you were in. So far he had come upon banners with ravens, tigers, butterflies and sea creatures until finally he found one with a red moon. 

Asking about the shops he had found out the mansion was far from the shopping districts, close to the far edge of the city where the most wealthy and influential lived. Lord Regulous Cinnis was one of the oldest and most well known in name. Volbin had never lived in the city, but according to the many nosy people he had asked, you’d be a fool if you didn’t know the Cinnis name. 

 

“He has five children, I heard the youngest is getting married in a few days time.” The shopkeeper sighs, obvious longing in his riddled voice. “I hear she’s beautiful and getting married to Lord Siethe Fel'yn” Volbin does not hide his confusion, luckily the man only scoffs, “Only the most prominent silk trader in Suramar! He own practically every trade route and shop.” Volbin bites his lip, choosing his next words carefully. Despite their tendency to gossip, Nightborne were very suspicious and easily swayed by gold. Volbin didn’t think for a moment this man would keep this conversation quiet if coin was offered. 

 

“And Lord Cinnis is marrying his daughter to Lord Fel'yn? If Fel'yn is as you say, Cinnis must be even more so,” Volbin scoffs, overplaying himself with exaggerating drama .“But he is!” snaps the rumpled shopkeeper, glaring now. Volbin waves him off, “How can he? Especially compared to this silk mogul you mention.” By now the man seems insulted, though Volbin does not know why and watches as he shoves his finger toward something, “Do you see that, boy?!” Following the bony finger, Volbin focuses on a overly tall spire, decorated with frills so fantastic, they were discernable even this far away. 

 

“That is only a small part of Lord Cinnis’ mansion!” Volbin thought it would’ve taken far more poking- maybe even searching on his own to find the mansion, but he also forgot how foolish Shaldorei truly are. “Is it?” Volbin muses, looking over it critically, appearing unimpressed. “Yes! Lord Cinnis owns almost the entire north-east area!” Volbin feigns shock, “My mistake then. How impressive.” The man looks satisfied, nodding along like it was the only and obvious response to such wealth, not even caring to notice Volbin had slipped out, now knowing exactly where to head.

 

Volbin had pretended to be impressed, but now as he came upon the mansion it was clear just how large it was. The mansion stood on what looked to be a repaired part of the city. Volbin knew Suramar was vast already, but after the legion occupation large portions of it were destroyed. Lord Cinnis looked to be repairing the very ground just so he could continue renovating his already far too massive home. It stood very tall and appeared to have many rooms if the ridiculous amount of windows were anything to go by. The garden around it was huge, fenced in with cold, coloured iron, inside there were hedges decorated like sabers of all kind, as well as figures of what Volbin can only assume were the Lord and his sons. One stood taller than the rest, while the other four looked regal and confident. Volbin notes with a sourness that there was no hedge statue of Asch or a mother of any kind, anywhere he could see. 

 

Workers were coming in and out of the mansion, the doors held open by guards. Volbin watches elves hurry out with arms full of flowers, and ribbons, all manner of things until he is jolted from his trance. “You there!” someone says from afar. Volbin draws back, worry filling his throat. “What are you doing standing about?!” A worker, Volbin could not tell what kind, comes straight up to him, full of rage. “There is work to do and little time to do it, you fool!” he snaps, papers stressed in his hand. For a moment Volbin is ignored as the worker begins hurriedly looking through his crumpled papers. “I don’t have time for this!” he hisses, now glaring at the sheets for information that Volbin knew wouldn't be there. “You-! You're supposed to be attending to the bride! What are you doing out here?!” Volbin’s mouth hangs open, but before he can attempt to answer, the man becomes to impatient “never mind! There isn’t any time for your foolish excuses! Find a guard to escort you!” 

 

With that the man leaves in a huff, muttering something about incompetence. Volbin blinks, watching him go before springing to action. Attending to the bride... fate was in his favour it seemed. 

 

Hurrying along to the doors Volbin finds a guard directing workers to their place, standing in the line he stares at the floor, hoping no one around him wonders who he really is. “Next!” shouts the guard and Volbin moves in front of him “I’m to attend the bride...?” He almost feels his throat jump out as the man looks him up and down. “You’ll need proper attire before you’re taken up to the lady’s quarters.” The guard calls for another guard, one who swiftly approaches, stonefaced and standing at the ready.

 

“He needs to dress and be taken to Lady Cinnis’ room.” With a nod the second guard, a lower rank Volbin realizes, leads Volbin into the well lit depths. Volbin stares at his feet as they walk, counting the steps he takes trying to remember the turns and twists they take while the guard leads him. As they go deeper into the manor, the sounds of the bustling and people working disappear, the only company is the sound of the guards armour, rattling and clinking as he moves. The guard leads him to the servants quarters, and quickly someone is called to get him clothes. Volbin changes into the drab and dark clothing without a word. 

 

“Do not address Lord Fel’yn,” the guard suddenly says as they walk, “He does not speak to the help.” Volbin feels his mouth twitch in agitation, “Do not look at him, do not even think about him, and Elune help you if you do something wrong.” Volbin almost bumps into the guard as he stops, a grand dark door towering over the two of them. The guard eases the door open silently and he announces himself quietly, bowing deeply. 

 

A maid, with a terrified look on her face scurries over, “He is in a foul mood.” The guard groans, and Volbin notices no one besides the servants are in the room. It looked to be a sitting room, with another grand door attached and beyond, there was yelling. “Isn’t that our luck? Ah... let’s go...” The guard hesitates, casting a pained look at the maid, who pities him and Volbin as they walk up to the other door, the guard knocks and the yelling halts. 

 

“Enter!” is barked out and the guard eases the door open. “Beg my pardon sir I’ve delivered my lady’s attendent.” Volbin glances up carefully, and catches sight of Asch, sitting on her bed with tears flowing down her face and across from her, still fuming, Lord Siethe Fel’yn. The man looked liked a raging weasel, his little fists clinched at his sides, practically vibrating with anger. His face was small and pinched, hair tightly pulled from his overly large forehead. His eyes were white, hollow and wide, skin a deep almost blackish purple. Seethe was not a large man, far from it in fact, Asch could likely be taller. Yet he managed to cause the armed guard at Volbin’s side to cower and shrink. 

 

“Fine fine- get out!” The guard is already closing the door by the time his sentence was finished. Volbin stands awkwardly, until one of the other servants in the room waves their hand, beckoning him over. 

 

“I should have you flogged you little whore,” Seethe begins with no hesitation, “I will beat this rebellion out of you.” He hisses, and Volbin can only watch in absolute horror as Asch curls in on herself, nodding her head without a word. “Are you even worth what I paid for you?” His hands fly wildly in anger as he speaks, “Running away with some commoner- you putrid fucking tree elf! Did he fuck you in the dirt and take what’s mine?” Siethe wasn’t looking for an answer. “Did you bend over and howl? I should send you off with your mongrel father.” 

 

Asch suddenly falls on her knees “No- no my lord please! I am untouched! I will be a proper wife to you-!” Siethe shoves her away, looking more disgusted by the moment “oh are you? Are you truly still untouched?” Asch nod silently, tears staining her face. “Maybe I should see for myself. Spread you on the floor and see if you bleed.” Volbin can feel rage boiling in his veins, rage behind his eyes as the little rat-like man speaks. 

 

 

“It w-would be m-my honour as y-your bride,” Asch says, shaking on the floor and completely terrified. Siethe glares at her, “It isn’t meant as an honour.” Than he becomes positively delighted, relishing his next words, “I could, couldn’t I?” He begins to laugh. “Take the only thing that gives you worth and tell your father you were taken by some savage and just give you back.” Seethe looks at Volbin for a moment, dread filling him until the lord's eyes swept past, looking at all the servants. “I’m sure the help would like to see- maybe once I’ve finished I’ll let my guards take their turns.” Seethe laughs nastily, touching her face almost tenderly, “Your savage of a father isn’t here to stop me whore.” 

 

Volbin hears a loud rip of cloth, and before he can stop himself, his throat punches out a single word. “Enough!” It resounds off the wall, and for a few painful moments, it is the only thing said. Lord Fel’yn draws back, surprisingly calm looking as he regards Volbin. “What did you say- you- animal?” His voice is leveled, but barely hiding his rage. Volbin opens his mouth, ready to damn himself once more, before Asch springs up, little hands grabbing Siethe’s sleeve. “Please my love, please-“ 

 

The sound of the back of his hand striking her face is loud and unforgiving.

 

“Touch me again and I will beat you myself.” Siethe snarls, looking between everyone before leaving in a rage. The maids follow after him, quickly escaping through the doors he did not bother to close. Volbin practically leaps to where Asch is crumpled on the floor as soon as the door closes. “No, no, I’m fine I’m-"

 

“Asch.” Volbin gathers her in his arms, pulling her face so it pressed into the skin of his neck. He can smell the flowers in her hair again, reassuring.

 

“Vol-Volbin?” the shock in her voice is palpable “I should have never let you go.” He whispers, eyes fluttering shut. Asch is still stiff with shock, but he only holds her tighter, “We’re leaving.” Asch seems to fall out of her trance, “No- no I can’t-" Volbin pulls her away from him, looking into her still wet eyes. “Asch I’m not arguing. I am leaving here with you even if I have to carry you out.” Asch does not answer him in words, she wraps her arms around him and nods.

 

“You have to leave,” she mutters into his shoulder. Volbin readies to protest, but Asch shakes her head, “If they find you here you’ll be killed-" She pushes his arms, trying to get Volbin to let go. When he didn’t Asch huffs, “I’m not arguing- but I have a fitting for a new dress soon.” Volbin watches her squirm, trying to stand up, before she finally glares at him and sits on her knees when he wouldn’t let her up. “I heard of a service tunnel in the wine cellar- if you truly think we can escape that’s what you have to find.”

 

Volbin muses for a moment, finally letting her go. “Will you be alright alone?” He did not like the idea, knowing exactly what her soon to be husband was like, what he would do to her at any moment, for no other reason than because he could. Asch nods, “Now go- before you get in trouble.”

 

“Call for me- for anything. Promise?” 

 

“Promise.” 

Chapter 119: Hades dabbles 1

Summary:

(Original Nightelf death knight/original female high elf)

 

Hello I’m sorry about the break in content! I’ve been editing the chapters!

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

 

Most of his memories were vague hazes of pain, his name all he remembers. Besides the fresh slaughter of his wife. He could not remember her words, but he saw the blood spurt across his face, his sword so deep in her neck it sliced bone. 

 

 

Hades does not remember her name, almost forgot what feelings were until everything came back in a rush of what Hades could only describe as a personal hell. Days passed and one by one, every death knight he knew, Darion, Koltira and even Thassarian had begun the troubling climb out of their own minds. Some didn’t make it and broke from the sheer pressure and pain of feeling everything, others like Hades survived, forced to endure their new condition. Some parts of Hades was jealous of all those who found their memories, recognizing family and friends and even themselves. Hades did not know who he was before death, no one seemed to find his face familiar, even as he walked in the barracks of Stormwind, populated by so many of his people. 

 

Darion had told him where his place was and Hades, truly having no place to go, decided to walk through the portal with Thassarian and present himself as a dedicated member of the Alliance once more.

 

King Varian was kind, his face was tight and his eyes told Hades that King Varian did not trust him. But the man was kind, despite it all. Hades was given clemency and Thassarian said Darion would be here in three days to discuss the next move on Icecrown. Which meant they would stay here until Darion decided to leave. Hades knew the Highlord wanted to ask for an army, a force to raid the icy halls of the Citadel. If Varian agreed Hades would once again see the insides of Icecrown. 

 

This did not bother him. Arthas had to be stopped before things spiraled further out of hand. Hades did not fear his old master or his castle but he was not eager to return. 

 

King Varian gave them rooms at an inn close by and expected both of them back tomorrow to discuss what had transpired in Northend. Hades did not know what he would tell his new king. 

 

 

Hades did not have a use for sleep, though he could, like all deathknights, he chose to sit by the window and watch people as they passed. The people were plain, busy doing last minute errands and hurrying home, and others were in their homes making dinner. Hades sniffs the air, feeling his lungs lurch at the effort of it. He could smell potatoes roasting and beef stewing. Hades flicks his eyes away, staring at the mirror hanging off the wall. Hades does not remember having white hair or keeping it so long, but he watches it blow limply from the breeze outside and does not think of cutting it with the scissors resting in the table. His skin was by no means sickly looking or diseased, but frost permeates in every shadow. 

 

Hades stares, blinking a few times to remind himself that why he was looking at wasn’t a statue, sometimes it was hard and what people said and thought about his kind were true. Stone soldiers. Those who do not breath but battle all the same, those who do not feel pain but break anyway. Hades wretches his gaze away from the mirror, closing his eyes tightly and felt the Lich fire burn behind his lids. 

 

 

The morning after came, and Thassarian found him in the same spot he had left him, though the other death knight could not mock him. He too was plagued with his own perils and sat most the night at his bedside desk. 

 

Today they would tell the king of those perils and he would listen. 

 

 

Asch, despite her situation smiles, giddy at the front door, holding her father’s coat in her arms, waiting as he descended the stairs. Lord Aesir Brightdawn smiles proudly, kissing his daughter on the head. “Hello princess,” he says, tugging his coat on. “Morning daddy!” She bounces in her heels, the door was open but he did not leave just yet, still holding the knob. “I’m sorry you cannot attend with me.” Her father was a commander under Vereesa Windrunner and for the last four years Asch had been groomed under her father and his command to take his place someday. 

 

Still, she was only a few weeks over eighteen and her father thought it wasn’t a good idea just yet to introduce her to the king and his court. “It’s alright daddy, next time!” Next time would likely not be for a long time. The war in Northrend was becoming a bigger problem then anyone could have imagined. Aesir kisses his daughter's head one last time before leaving. Asch sighs softly, ears drooping in disappointment. 

 

Asch presses herself against the frame of her door, watching her father ride off with his company toward the grand keep of Stormwind. She knew the inside and out of the castle because her father had taken her many times when he had the time. The war room was her favourite and she was excited someday to stand by Vereesa and the king. 

 

Aesir was the master of Paladins, and her uncle Atlas was master of Priests. Father often had Asch running errands for her uncle- he said it was practice but Asch knew it was busy work. It didn’t upset her because she knew that to take her father’s place she needed the skills of a squire first. Asch huffs, pride filling her as she hurried up to her room. No knight ever started out as one. They earned it. 

 

Asch would earn it. 

 

 

Asch scribbled a letter to her father and left it by the door, telling him she was going for a run and that she would be back before dark. Locking the door behind her, Asch took off in a run. 

 

 

Atlas watches his brother fall to his knees, the only thing he could do was touch his shoulder with a firm hand. They both watched with sorrow-filled eyes as decorated coffins were loaded onto the docks. “There’s... so many,” Aesir mutters, chest heaving in effort. Atlas stares past them, watching another ship with black sails pulling into another open dock. Another ship carrying more of their dead. “This war is taking so much from so many.” Atlas feels his brother flinch away, glancing toward his elder brother, “How many are...” 

 

Atlas swallows, “At least a thousand.” High elves, already so few had become fewer. Atlas sees his brothers ears flick, curl into his head and a wet sigh escapes him. Atlas knew most of them didn’t make it home. Most of them would become apart of Arthas army, forgotten and faceless. “Does the king know?” Atlas presses his lips together, shaking his head, “He will soon.” 

 

 

“How... how can I... write to all these... their families...” Soldiers hurry past them with a coffin in their hands, taking it to the furthest back wall before running and getting another. Atlas closes his eyes, letting the heat of the dying sun warm his skin, but he still felt so cold. There would be no peace tonight. They would count their dead, their missing, and they would write until their hands bled. The king would sign their letters and they would feel hollow. Wounded boys and their fathers would never be the same and Atlas would care for them well into the night. Watching those poor souls scream awake in their bed rolls and be completely unable to help. 

 

 

“Aesir,” Atlas calls, ears drooping. “I know. Just a moment longer,” Aesir muttered. Atlas bows his head. 

 

 

 

Asch hadn’t meant to stay out past dark, but her last lap around Stormwind was a bit tricky since all the soldiers were beginning to ship out. So many people throwing roses and favours on the streets made Asch revise her route, not wanting to be in the way. When she returned, all the lights were off and her letter was never picked up. Asch frowns, following the path behind the stairs toward her father’s office. Candle light bloomed from under the door and Asch pushed it open, seeing her father’s head laying on the desk, ink on his cheek and spilt all over whatever he was writing. Asch tiptoed over to him, intending to wake him up and get him to bed, but what he was writing drew her attention. 

 

On the desk in a messy pile were letters. Asch picks the last one up, the writing hurried and a little messy, but as she read, Asch discovered all the letters on his desk were addressed to soldiers' families. Death letters. They were in piles around her, stack as high as the could, four in front of her father and two stacks in each side of him. Asch quiets her pained gasp with a hand pressed firmly to her mouth, hands shaking. It was impossible- how could so many have died?! 

 

Asch’s father hasn’t told her the gravity of the war- only that it had been raging on for months. He had never told her what they were losing. Asch clutches the paper to her chest, heart hammering. She could do something.

 

She would do something. 

 

Notes:

EDITED
JANUARY 21, 2019

Chapter 120: Hades dabbles 2

Notes:

(Original Nightelf death knight/original female high elf)

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

As Hades’ eyes fan over all the fresh soldiers boarding the ship, he thought about how Varian Wrynn had pulled all the leaders of the Alliance together and found thousands of soldiers of all races and proficiencies. Hades was to oversee all the ships while Darion stayed back in Stormwind. 

 

Thassarian pulls his cloak off his shoulder, glaring at everyone stumbling off the boats and shivering in their metal armour. He huffs through his nose, creating a fog around his face. Hades twitches, glancing sideways. The other Death Knight was already looking at him, “Who were you before this, Hades?” Hades stresses his hands into the railing, he feels the bite of his gloves pinch his skin. “Someone old.” He holds his head proudly, blinking away the fresh snow falling, his hair blowing wildly behind him. 

 

Thassarian chuckles, despite not getting an answer, he accepts what he is given. “It’s the same feeling isn’t it? For you elves?” Hades’ brow is drawn in question. “Being like this?” He gestures to himself and then Hades “it’s different for humans. We die young. You live forever.” Hades frowns, “it’s still death.” Thassarian grows quiet, Hades looks away. 

 

 

For a long time they watch the ships unload and more come in their place, with more soldiers and more supplies. 

 

“Many of them will die.” Thassarian says. Hades casts his eyes away, watching snow blow over, “All of them will die.” Hades stalks away, pressing his thick, black boots into the snow, leaving Thassarian. The soldiers avoid him as they hurry past, making a path for him as he approaches the ship. “Captain!” he calls, watching a man who looked run down and frozen. “How many more ships ?!”

 

“Thirty, my lord!” Hades swallows, barely hiding a snarl. Still he nods, letting the man hide his face under a thick woven scarf. Most of the soldiers were shaking, armour clinking like a sea of chains scraping against rocks as they shivered. Hades felt his ears twitch in irritation. Every one of them looked at him as they filed out, staring in either shock or disgust. Hades ignored it, for the rest of time people would look at him like this. Even his own people, the Kaldorei looked at him and judged him, as if he chose to become a Death Knight. 

 

 

Hades had little to no idea what he was before his death. All he remembered was his name, Starsong. That he was incredibly old and that he had a wife. Thassarian said things would return to him. The only thing yet to return was his sense of importance, but he suspected he was someone important before he died. Hades had decided when he found his last name, his true last name, that he would not go looking for who he was, because it was not fair to the wife he killed. 

 

 

He was Hades Coldheart. He would be no one else. 

 

So, in the fashion only he could pull off, Hades holds his head high, noise pointing up at all those staring at him with contempt. 

 

 

Asch couldn’t believe how cold Northrend truly was, she had heard from soldiers returning that it was terrible, but it was one of those things you could never understand until you experienced it. Asch pulls her furs around her, desperate for any kind of warmth as she trudges with all the other soldiers. She didn’t wear the armour of Stormwind, which made her get looks from all the others, but no one questioned her. They likely didn’t want to bring their faces up from their collars. 

 

Asch’s own face was frozen, ears stuffed under her hood and bent in an awkward position that would surely cause her pain later. Still, she felt giddy- scared and ready. 

 

From the makeshift ramparts stood a single man, his hair grey, face old, and eyes the shade of the sky. His face was uncovered and pale, but he did not shake from the cold- in fact he did not seemed bothered by it at all. Asch marveled up at him as he raised his hand, getting the attention of everyone from the last five ships to dock. “Your journey does not end here,” He says, voice strange and echoed, like a resounding gong. 

 

“You will travel to the Shadow Vault!” Asch perks, her father made sure she knew at least a little of the landscape of Northrend and she knew where the tournament was, heard of the splendour, but she had no knowledge of the Shadow Vault. 

 

“Gryphons ready, present yourself to Baron Silver!” 

 

 

Hades watches countless people ride off to the Shadow Vault, anyone standing first would get a flight there, while most were gearing up their horses for the long ride from Dragonblight to Icecrown. Some had their own birds brought from Stormwind, but those were ordinary soldiers. Hades felt the press of a nose against his back, looking over his shoulder he sees his deathcharger, Chaos. “Soon,” he mutters, petting the horses cheek. Hades, much like all the other Death Knights were given their mounts soon after they were raised into the Lich Kings service. 

 

Chaos was like all the others, quiet, black but much like his owner completely intact, save his white flaming hooves and matching eyes. Hades dressed him in black plating and white cloth, matching his rider. 

 

The horse snorts, but then makes no sound soon after and Hades cannot hear him leave but knows that he does. Dead just like their owners, ghostly and silent. Hades sighs, just for the sound. There was no pain in his chest, but his lungs protest the movement, over his left breast he can feel the skin crest with effort, the blow that ended his life. It was an ugly looking thing, the skin damaged and discoloured, puckered like a bad burn. It was stitched expertly, a product of a priestess he was sure, but still. It wasn’t large by any means, it was quite small actually, a curved, deep slice, the skin was jagged around the close and his heart was a dead weight in his chest, but Hades liked the reminder. 

 

There was no other indication on his body he was dead or disfigured besides his Lichfire eyes. A gift he supposed, knowing all too well he could have looked like Thassarian, ghostly pale and gaunt in the face. Hades pitied so many of his brothers, rotted skin and exposed bones, unable to hide from so many eyes. 

 

 

“Hades!” Thassarian draws his attention, looking up he can see the human leaning over the rampart railing. “Yes?” He calls, arms crossed and unmoving. Thassarian seems annoyed by this, but he does not move either, “Darion wants you at the Shadow Vault before sundown!” Hades frowns, “Will you be alright by yourself then?” Faintly, Hades can see a smirk play across the human's face, “As if you were doing anything anyway!” He chuckled, “Go, take a Gryphon and I will see you at nightfall!” 

 

 

Asch did not know what to expect out of Icecrown, but she hadn’t thought it would be so dark. Somehow the sun did not reach any part of this place and the vast majority of it was excavated holes and trudging undead. The Shadow Vault was no better, here it was the darkest. Undead were scaling the walls and moving cargo, idling by while soldiers begun to set up their beds in the near empty hall. Asch did not know how this place would house fifteen ships worth of soldiers, but she supposed they would make do. 

 

Baron Silver was a strange looking elf that spoke with the same echo as the human who oversaw their landing. His face was bare and he did not look cold, even in all the heavy armour he wore. Baron Silver said there was nothing to be done today and to get as much rest as they could while their reinforcements arrived. Asch sat at her roll, squeezed between the cold wall and another bed, but she could not fathom sleeping like so many of the other arrivals did. It was far too noisy and people were coming and going, hurrying about like mice. 

 

Instead Asch leaves her bed, knowing full well someone may take it and exits the Vault, hoping she could be of some use somewhere. The captain that commanded her unit was directing people where they needed to be and Asch waited in a short line to speak with him. The man was short, a full beard covering half his face and his eyes looked almost frozen shut. His voice was harsh and loud, everything a commander should be. 

 

Once Asch came to the front she pulling her hood away from her eyes and said, “Sir!” The commander squints at her, glaring at her through slitted eyes, and Asch wasn’t sure if she had done something wrong or if he was deciding what to do with her. Asch wasn’t a very large person, in fact she supposed the commander thought she was rather weak and thin, maybe he would tell her to go back to her bed because there was no use for little girls with small arms. 

 

But that was not the case.

 

The ice around his eyes broke away and he became shocked, apparently realizing something Asch did not. Until he spoke.

 

 

“You are Aesir Brightdawn’s daughter!” 

 

 

Asch felt the colour drain from her face, “N-no I’m-“ she sputters, heart pounding in her chest, “You shouldn’t be here! How did you get here?” The commander shakes his head, “Never mind that- you’re going home this instant-“ “No!” She protests, backing away as his hand grabs her wrist, “Do not be stupid!” He hisses, pulling her away from the soldiers, who now look confused and intrigued at the outburst. “Your father will have my head-“ he says, “I have to help!” Asch begs, “Don’t send me home I have to be here!” The commander looks at her with great concern, unsure of what to do. 

 

 

“Highlord Mograine will make that decision.” 

Notes:

EDITED
JANUARY 24, 2019

Chapter 121: Hades dabbles 3

Summary:

Original male Nightelf/original female Highelf

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

 

Asch had never heard of Darion Mograine, but there he stood with his cloak still covered in snow, and helmet masking his face. Asch could feel his eyes on her however, as the commander told him just who exactly she was. Darion hadn’t moved in all that time, simply listening to what was said, how Asch was Lord Aesir Brightdawn’s daughter and barely of age to even enlist. That she must have snuck aboard while they were shipping out and that the commander had stopped her right then and there.

 

Asch knew the man would get in trouble, despite telling the whole truth, her father must know by now that she had left, now he would know where in a matter of hours and she would likely be on the way home by sundown. Darion’s movements were eerie as he turns, now fully facing her. He was an impressive height for a human, Asch could not tell what he was thinking as he looked over her like a shadow. “Why did you come here?” Darion’s voice was chilly and restless, like a strange wind howling in the cold. 

 

Asch still shows courage and says, “I want to fight.”  Darion tilts his head, examining her, “What does a child like you know of war?” She felt the blow but did not protest him, it was after all what he’d want, proving further she was a child acting out. Instead she calmly speaks, voice hard and unwavering, “I know thousands die, I know I won’t.” This makes him muse aloud, a daunting sound, “Bold of you to assume that.” 

 

Asch straightens, “I know what I’m capable of Highlord, I know I can help.” Darion considers her words for a long time, why she did not know, but was grateful he chose to listen instead of send her home without discussion. “Your father is a smart man,” he begins, starting to pace in front of her, “He trained you to take his place one day. To become Vereesa’s master of Paladins.” Asch’s eyes narrow slightly, not understanding the importance of his words. 

 

Darion trails off, muttering things she cannot understand before stopping, “You will write to your father, and if he agrees with this you will stay and fight like you wish. Only if he agrees.” Asch hides her excitement well and nods eagerly 

 

 

Hades feels the wind whip his face, as Chaos rides at the speed only awarded to a dead horse. The snow packed ground of Icecrown provided a sleek path for his steed to quickly traverse along the mountain path leading toward the Shadow Vault. Most of the army was there getting settled as he passed, searching for Darion. “My lord!” Baron Silver calls, his own horse trotting towards. “Where is Highlord Darion?” Baron scowls, “Dealing with the Brightdawn girl.” Hades tilts his head, “The what?” Baron blinks, smirking now, “You haven't heard? Some lord's daughter snuck on the ship and thought she’d draft herself into war.” Hades snorts, “is that right?” Baron nods, moving along with Hades as he carries himself toward the Vault. 

 

“He wouldn’t be bothered if you interrupted however, go see him.”

 

 

Finding the Highlord wasn’t difficult, he along with a squad commander were standing with each other in a barely furnished room, which looked just like any of the others. Beside them both however, sat a chair and in the chair was the girl Baron had told him about. Hades doesn’t bother looking more than a moment, what he seeings intrigues him, but also dampens his interest all the same. She was a little thing, much smaller than the humans beside her. Her ears were tall but pressed to her skull and her face held a wilted expression. Hades could easily see she was only a little more than half his size, but twice as small. 

 

It begged the question, why did she want to go to war? 

 

“Lord Coldheart.” Darion says with respect, Hades inclines his head, paying no further interest to the girl before him. “Thassarian said you needed me..?” 

 

 

Asch could not help but stare at the man in front of her, Asch had seen many Nightelves before him, many tall and imposing, many broad and powerful- but this one. Asch had never seen any have it all as he did, his eyes lit up like arcane, bright- so oddly beautiful and leaking with some type of power. The hair drawn over his shoulders was unkempt and wild like most his kind, but held no colour, bleached white like pure snow, and it was long. Longer than any she had seen. He almost looked too terrifying, wearing imposing armour, and face too serious, and jaw chiseled like a marble statue- just like the ones in her father’s garden. 

 

“Yes, I need you to host the army here in my stead,” Darion informs, pulling Asch from her trance, “I have to act as a- well- a go between.” Asch listens to the rich dark laugh that escapes the elf's mouth, reveling in the sweet, echoed sound. “The Horde and Alliance are not cooperating and Tirion wants me at the events upcoming in the Tournament- this isn’t permanent,” Darion shakes his head, “I’ll be leaving in a few days- they all have their orders and you are in command upon my departure.” Darion lifts his hand and grips the elf's shoulder, looking awkward because of the difference in height, but neither make note of it. 

 

“I trust you, Hades.” Asch withheld a noise from escaping her throat. Hades. His name was Hades.  

Notes:

EDITED
JANUARY 30, 2019

Chapter 122: Hades dabbles 4

Summary:

Original male Nightelf/original female Highelf

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

 

Only days past and Asch knew that Darion would leave today just by the sheer commotion of the troops. She had never sent her letter to her father, instead she sat at her desk, up in her guarded tower and stared at the letter her father had “sent.” A terrible pit grew in her stomach as she stared at the seal of her father’s house, blue waxed dented in the pattern of a sun on the horizon while stairs faded in the sky. Asch picked it up, turning it, on the front, in almost perfect penmanship, said the name Highlord Darion Mograine. 

 

Asch knew what the letter said, because she had forged it. 

 

It said that Asch had gone to his surprise, which hadn’t been a lie. Her father must have discovered by now that she was missing. It said that she was capable on her own, that he only wished her safety and that he trusted her. 

 

Trusted her. Her father used to. Asch wasn’t so sure anymore. 

 

 

Still, she wipes away her tears and hurried from her room, calling the guards to take her to the Highlord. 

 

 

Hades stares at the map stretched out of the table, its corners held down by daggers, dug into the flesh of the parchment and meat of the table. Little blue and red figures stand at opposite ends, “Are they so petulant as this?” Darion sighs for the sound of it, aspirated and exhausted he nods, “They will kill each other before the scourge get the chance.” Hades clinches his fist, glaring at the pieces on the map before sweeping them into the floor in a lapse of rage, Darion doesn’t so much as speak a word to stop him as he yanks a thick dagger from his side and stabs it into Icecrown citadel’s illustration “I will kill them before they get the chance.” Darion snorts in good humour, stepping on the figurines as he moves closer to Hades.

 

“Lucky then that you weren’t the one sent to play peace.” Hades had met the king of Stormwind, a vulgar man that only had a mind for war, not one that fit a crown.  The orc Warchief he only heard of in name, Thrall. A man he cared little to know and even less to meet. “The King is a fool and the Orc is soft.” Hades bites, saying little else. Darion can see he no longer wishes to discuss this and decides to only agree, knowing all his Death knights felt the same about the factions as Hades did. Their only enemy should be the Lich King, yet they squabble amongst themselves forgetting the very real and horrible threat at the doorstep. 

 

Arthas would not hesitate to expand his reach from Northrend, Darion knows he had plans to sweep the kingdoms with his army, Darion was supposed to be his instrument in the coming tide. Hades too had his part to play in Arthas’ theatre of war, but would not wish for the reminder. 

 

Hades was a curious thing in Darion’s eyes. The elf had no knowledge of his past, even when his other knights begin to remember themselves, he declined any knowledge Darion had sought out of his life before death. It was an odd thing, Darion knew more about Hades then the man himself did. Darion did not press him, for his reasons were his own and only shared what Hades wished to hear, his name. 

 

Starsong. A legendary name, one Darion hardly believed belonged to the cold, calculating man before him. But then, none of them seemed to fit their old lives now, no matter how hard they tried. 

 

So two pasts are forgotten, but never lost. 

 

Darion lifts his head to look at the man next to him, his brother. His equal. Hades looks at, but not down to Darion, a curious tilt in his brow, a silent question. Darion shuts his eyes with effort, feeling nothing in his chest “fate is unkind.” 

 

To which Hades responds, “Fate is only ever unkind.” 

 

Darion laughs, but feels no joy. 

 

Darion opens his mouth to speak, but the door begins to open and from it the timid Brightdawn girl. “My lords?” Hades waves her in with a quick snap of his wrist, Darion can already tell he is in no mood for the living. “I have my father’s letter for you Highlord.” She was very polite, a surprising thing in all accounts. But Darion supposed he did not give her enough credit. The girl scurries toward them, and Darion assesses her as she stands her tallest next to him, just barely reaching nose. She does not shake from the obvious cold and her pride is her shield as she extends her father’s letter. 

 

 

Darion breaks the seal and all around it is quiet, deathly so. Not even the girl's breathing breaks the silence. He reads on to the last word, carefully taking in the master of Paladins words and sweeping his eyes over the signature. Nodding only once he relents, “It seems you may stay after all.” There is joy in her face that Darion had all but forgotten could exist, “But-“ she slightly deflates “your father wouldn’t take kindly to me if I sent you home in a coffin.” Darion looks between the girl and Hades, making a snap decision “Hades will watch after you- won’t you, brother?” There is intense hatred in the elves glowing eyes, one that will not be forgotten, one that Darion knows he will face soon. 

 

 

But not in this moment, for now the rage is contained behind those icy eyes and Hades curtly nods, giving way to a command Darion had no authority to give the other. “Only until I return!” He quickly adds, knowing it does not soften the blow. 

 

A very tense moment passes before Darion speaks again, more hesitant than before, “My lady this is Lord Hades Coldheart. Hades this is lady Asch Brightdawn.” Hades covers a snarl expertly, but Darion knows what it looked like upon his face. “My lady.” Still he is respectful.  

 

Asch curtsies, “My Lord.” 

 

 

Darion can see the widening of Hades eyes, shocked she would grant him anything more then a simple nod. What Darion did not expect was Hades question. “You bow to the dead.” Asch cranes her head to look up at him, eyes wide and gorgeous “Why?” To her credit, the little elf did not tremble at his tone, merely looked greatly confused, “The dead?” 

 

Darion blinks, head tilted “You know not of us? Of what we are?” At this she shakes her head, “Is there more than what I see?” Darion walks forward, pulling his helm from his head, the hatred in Hades all but gone now. “We are knights of death. Raised by the Lich King and freed from servitude by Highlord Tirion Fordring.” This seemed to spark concerned surprise, at least what Darion could only assume was that upon her face. “You... you are saying you are not of the living?” Hades leans away, observing her with a craned head and baffled eyes. “Have you not noticed our pale skin, strange voice and tainted eyes?” 

 

 

For a moment she looks as if they were trying to trick her, as if the question was a joke at her expense, wearily she opens her mouth and speaks, “I have met many under different influences, such as arcane or druidism... I had thought it was simply another disciple I had never seen before.”

 

Hades eyes glance toward Darion, while the human does the same, both not quite believing how innocent she was. 

 

“I see...” Darion says finally, staring at her with blank eyes, still unsure of what to make of her, “How interesting...” Asch smiles at them, there was no malice or mockery and Hades decides he just isn’t interested now, Darion watches him turn away, pulling his dagger from the table, splitting the wood and ripping the map. 

 

“I’ll see you off tomorrow.” Darion watches him go, watching his mantle drag on the ground.  

Notes:

EDITED ON
February Seventh, 2019

Chapter 123: Illidan dabbles 23

Summary:

Illidan Stormrage/Asch Stormrage

Happy valentines days my loves You can’t imagine how much I love writing for all you wonderful people, seeing your kudos and comments brightens my day!!!

Chapter Text

Illidan had been distracted, mind absent as he only had the heart to stare at the two midnight purple babies now sleeping by his grand bed. Their mother exhausted and sleeping among a dozen pillows. Malfurion was quietly washing his hands not far from him, speaking in whispers about the ongoings on Azeroth. The war seemed so distance now as Illidan watched his newest babies squirm in their sleep. 

 

Tytus and Seker, he decidedly named them. They both had pointed horns and no wings, but scaled skin, fel green eyes and hair a deep black just like their father. Malfurion tied little cloth ribbions on their ankles, one yellow and the other red. Illidan supposed it was suppose to help him tell them apart, but Illidan knew which twin was which without them. Tytus was on the left, wearing the yellow ribbon and Seker was on the right wearing the red. 

 

“I can’t stay much longer,” Illidan faintly heard, “I know.” They lead different lives now. Illidan has peace and his brother has war. Tyrande was consumed with rage that may have ribed his own at one time, Malfurion told him of the ancient ritual she took part in, changing her while self into an instrument of Elune. Illidan heard what they had lost, friends and family, Maiev despite their differences was aiding in the fight, a new purpose now. Illidan wonders if she still hates him, wonders if she knows what his life is now. Someone must have told her- she knew of Edan and did not approve, but does she know about Kair? Yllidas or his twins? Illidan thinks not, and for the first time, he holds no feeling toward the Warden. Not hatred, not rage. 

 

 

“Everyone his healthy and if you need anything you can call for me.” Illidan knew he could not, but promised all the same. Malfurion squeezes his brothers shoulder “be well Illidan.” The great demon nods slowly, “don’t die Malfurion.” The brothers part and nothing more is said. 

 

Not long after the soft knocks of his children come and Illidan allows them in, Kair had Yllidis in her arms and cries when she sees her new baby brothers. Tadeas, a young man now smiles at his father and carefully leans over to look at them. Tadeas looked so much like his uncle now, or what Illidan imagines he should have appeared as if he became a Druid. His middle child was a mirror into another time, a different place and Illidan thought he quite liked the reminder. 

 

 

Much like his mother, Tadeas had taken to healing, but was becoming interested in the nature of balance, he had a well versed teacher and a very long time to study. 

 

Yllidis was getting bigger, speaking more, not as much as one would hope, but Illidan never minded this. Kair shows him the babies, but once she puts him doen he is far more interested in his mother. Illidan watches him climb the bed and curl into her side, easily falling asleep in her warmth. A calm feeling rises in Illidan as he watches them. 

 

Edan had not come with his siblings, but did appear later that day, sauntering in and smiling sadly at the twins. Illidan looks up at his eldest, awaiting him to speak his obvious pain. “Atem miscarried. She doesn’t want to see me ever again.” Illidan exhales sharply, watching Edan’s sorrow bubble over, but he does not cry. Illidan reaches for him, but Edan shakes his head, not accepting his father’s embrace, but does grip his hand. 

 

 

Edan is to young to face such heartache, but the Illidan is reminded that Edan is just like his father and pain will only ever be in his path. “You will endure.” Illidan says, and knows it to be true. Edan will endure far worse, he will climb his misfortune like a mountain and someday he will know peace. Whether Edan wanted to hear it or not, reguardless he nods, absently playing with the rim of the crib. “Is nana alright?” Illidan nods “she’s fine.” Illidan wants to ask Edan so many things, but Edan does not look ready for such a thing, so Illidan will leave him. 

 

Edan shakes his head not long after “I’m going to train with Kayn for a few days.” Illidan can only nod, the fragile peace in his sons face may break at the drop of a pin, st any moment. Edan sucks in a wet breath, shoulders shaking “tell nana?” Quickly he adds “but don’t let her worry.” Edan squeezes his hand before letting go, but before leaving, he says “I will endure.” 

 

 

Illidan flicks his gaze over the vast grounds of Argus, his days filled with nothing but watching, waiting. There is not despair in it though, Illidan longed for such a life, but he had not known it for some time. Trees begin to grow, adolescent now but one day will beach out and cover the sky. 

 

 

Illidan wonders if there will ever be another fight, would he want one? Does he need one? Illidan does not have any answers. But he thinks over all, no he does not. Behind him was Asch, his twins at her breast. Being a father had changed his perspective faster then rotting in a cell all those years- or even being dead. In those days he longed to sink his blade into whatever decided to be his enemy, bite meaningless words at those he did not think his equal and watch their rage dance as he only became amused. Now, he had little need for any of it, little time to spend on such a thing. 

 

Looking over his shoulder, he sees Asch tiredly smiling at Tytos, barely keeping her eyes open as they fed. Being a father had changed his whole world. 

 

Asch spares him a glance, Illidan smiles lopsidedly, making his way over, at first Asch only looks at him, but then leans her cheek on his horn and mutters “no more babies,” this makes him laugh, gaze locked onto her face, “of course my love,” Asch had given him six children, Illidan had been happy with one- would be happy with more if she decided it, but regardless, he was happy. 

 

Chapter 124: Halduron dabbles 1

Summary:

Halduron Brightwing/Original female character

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

 

Halduron sits restlessly, staring at the table full of spread sheets, population numbers and treasury statements. 

 

Rommath sighs loudly, flinging a folder full of papers into the pile, “We have more people dying and even less people having children.” Halduron pulls from the askew pile and glances over the death tool of the most recent battle, eight hundred more men and women dead, five still fighting and and two hundred wounded. 

 

Lor’themar rubs his face, fingers pressing into his eyes before he groans lowly “Well. What are we suppose to do?” Hal shrugs, shaking his head “If it keeps up like this our race will die out.” Rommath lurches off the table, angrily whipping his face toward the window, staring out with his face pinched and brows drawn down “We need our people to start having children,” he hisses, “Half the households reported having none or one child the last three years.” Rommath looks back, they all share a little bit of the responsibility, having no children or wives themselves to speak of. 

 

None of them were helping rectify this, just like the rest of their peoples. 

 

“I’m exhausted.” Hal hears Lor’themar snarl, face still hidden in his hands “As am I,” Rommath murmurs, “Hal?” When his name is called Hal hums halfheartly “Hal.” Hal snaps up, blinking at the both of them, Lor’themar and Rommath tilt their heads in wait, Hal swallows, “What?” He says lamely, watching them deflate “What’s your take on all this?” Hal feels the papers under his flat hands, Hal casts his eyes away, hair falling from behind his ears and brushing his face “Talk to the advisors?” He shrugs, biting his lip badly, having no idea “See if they have anything?” 

 

Lor’themar leans back in his ridged chair, shaking his head, “If you think they will have anything. We certainly did not.”

 

 

Hal left the meeting with a heavy heart and a dizzy head. With his bow in hand and the wind whipping his hair, he set out. The wilderness around Silvermoon was plentiful because there weren’t enough people who called it home to quell the population of lynx, dragonhawks and mana wyrms tripled. This was a blessing as much as a curse, there was plenty of food to go around, but it was dangerous to have these creatures overtake the area as they had. Hal did what he could, killing at least five of each every night, delivering the bodies to those who could properly use the whole animal. It was mating season and it was dangerous for children to be out, the males were aggressive and more than once attacked people going in and out for business. It was easy to see which were which, males were posturing, shoulders held high and always prowling. 

 

It was late enough in the season that most of the females were already pregnant and not out as much, if Hal was lucky he could see a few babies from the earliest cycles of the season, once one had come up to his and sniffled his hand before bounding off. They were cute little things, big eyed and wobbly. Hal wanted one of his own because they made loyal pets and great companions, but never had the heat to take one from its mother. 

 

Hal didn’t bother going deep into the forest this night, lately the path into Silvermoon was becoming a hazard and Hal had already found four male Lynx prowling around the bridge as gates. His hawk strider was carrying a full cart tonight as he led it back into the city, guards saluting him as he passed. Silvermoon has never been so barren as it was now, Hal remembers it always full of people at all times of the day, now he could take his hawk down Main Street and have no troubles. There was so much wealth here, abandon homes and empty buildings, Hal had never heard of a city with more money then people before. 

 

But he supposed it wasn’t the worst problem a city could have. 

 

Hal pulls the bodies from his cart, giving them to the usual shops that were still open, usually waiting for his delivery. Before when he was younger and they had more people to worry over he would skin them himself and give the pieces to families that couldn’t afford anything else, now there wasn't anyone to give them too. 

 

Hal passes Lor’themar villa, seeing the lights on and shaking his head, work followed his friend no matter where he was, someday he’d invite Lor’themar to go hunting and maybe one day he would actually say yes instead of skirting away. They were ranges together before everything fell apart, the best shot Hal had ever seen and the happiest when his face was covered in dirt and they were competing for kills. Another life, another time. Lor’themar used a sword now and it was only for show. One day. 

 

Hal grins. One day.

 

 

Rommath lived in the citadel and no lights were on in his tower, Hal and him did not get along at first, he was a mage and Hal was a hunter and their way of doing things were not at all the same. Hal hated him for a long time, Rommath looked down on his work, being in the mud and “undignified” he had once called it, but after Kael had betrayed them Rommath became far easier to be around, and even apologized. The three of them were nearly inseparable now, bonded through pain and sweat. They were his brothers and Hal would do anything for them. 

 

 

Looking up at his own villa he felt hollow, a large empty house with far too many rooms and dust in every corner, but this was his reward for his valorous deeds. He put his hawk in the eight stalled barn, looking at the seven empty spaces before sighing. 

 

Each room Hal past he knew which ones were used and which haven’t been opened since the first day he moved in. The grand bedroom was overused and full of papers from work, his office even worse. There were more bathrooms than he could use, but the one he liked wasn’t even in his master bedroom. There was a massive marble bath closer to his office on the first floor and Hal often used it just to relax. His kitchen was a mess and the living room next to it was turned into an armoury housing his bows, gear and novelty swords, pikes and a fair amount of animal trophy’s. Hal drops his things on the sofa, still covered in the white sheet that had been her the day he moved in, countless years ago. 

 

He rubs his face, deciding he was too tired to clean the blood and sweat from his body and promptly falls atop his bed, sheets unmade and askew under him.

 

Tomorrow was another day. 

 

 

Hal smelt hot coffee as he entered the citadel’s office and both Rommath and Lor’themar had already drank most of the pot, rolling his eyes he takes the less than half a cup left. "Our advisers have booked a single appointment for today,” Rommath says over his cup, surprising Hal, “Only one?” Lor’themar shrugs, “Only one.” He looks at a sheet, “A doctor... Starshine?” Hal hums, shaking his head, “A lright, when is she coming in?” Lor’themar pulls the paper up, scanning the sheet “in about ten minutes. She has an idea about how to fix our population problem.” 

 

 

A knock came after they had settled and the guards let the doctor in, Hal was surprised at how plain she was, her hair was limp down her back and her eyes were small and pinched, while her face wasn’t anything special. Her figure was drowned by the lab coat and thick sweater she wore, while her skirt was wooly and looked scratchy. “Hello my lords,” she says with a bow, Lor’themar inclines his head, gesturing her to take a seat, which she does. Mousy and small she holds her folders close to her chest. 

 

“What do you have for us?” The doctor licks her mouth, smiling with her small mouth, “Well my lords, to be honest, our birthrate is terrible. I think I’ve created a program that will skyrocket the numbers.” She nods at her own words, “If you would my lords,” she has three green coloured folders, Rommath takes them from her, passing Hal his own and Lor’themar another. “A breeding program?” Hal reads, eyes going wide, “Yes my lord!” she says oddly excited, “Our people won’t increase the birthrate themselves, so we must do it on our own!” The doctor jumps from her chair, explaining away her solution. 

 

“We enroll everyone in the program, eliminate those who are sterile or carrying infections” she paces, jumping excitedly, “We provide a safe environment, physicals, questionnaires then let our couple conceive!” Hal flinches, “And the mother- who may not want to have a baby-“ “Won’t keep it!” All of them look up from their folders at her, but she laughs happily, “We will take the children and care for them in- let’s call it... a group home! Mommy delivers the baby and we take it! There are so many abandoned buildings and so much money left unused that while we bring the birth rate up we can also begin fixing the city!” 

 

Lor’themar leans back in his chair flipping through the pages, “Everyone is required to be in this program- without exception?” The doctor nods sombrely, “Yes, unfortunately it’s what we have to do.” Rommath is frowning and Hal knows exactly what that means, “Have you not considered this as rape?” Always subtle. 

 

“I’ve provided information on that but, boiling it down. We can make our participants as comfortable as they need and all that matters are the results. Again, unfortunate- but the numbers are solid. If we don’t do something about this our people will die out in less than ten years.” Hal wasn’t about to let some doctor scare him, “How are they going to be safe? Why would any of us- them be comfortable in a room alone with a stranger?” Doctor Starshine nods thoughtfully, licking her dry lips, “We will have a priest watch through a mana glass and make sure the process goes smoothly, if something were to happen we would subdue the problem.” The three of them eye each other with varying expression of intrigue, horror and annoyance. 

 

 

“Ten years?” Lor’themar asks, “Less than.” 

 

 

“Pull the program through.” 

 

Notes:

EDITED ON
Feb 26, 2019

Chapter 125: Halduron dabbles 2

Summary:

Halduron Brightwing/Original female character

It’s on the shorter side, but don’t worry!
More to come!
Also super exciting- we have over 40k views! Thank you so much to everyone who has read this story, and been here since the start!

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

 

Hal finished his physical and Rommath was already out in the main area answering the questionnaire. “That was... invasive,” he says, getting Rommath's attention. “Aren’t you used to that?” he smirks, looking over his clipboard. “Well yes. But. Usually I enjoy it.” Rommath rolls his eyes “usually.” He says with sarcasm, “how many questions are there?” Rommath continues to scribble his answers, “Fifty or so,” Hal sighs, yanking the clipboard from the table accompanying the chairs, “‘What is the width of your hips or size of your genitals?’” Hal reads, “'Position you prefer your partner in?!'” Rommath snorts lowly, “Just answer- or are you embarrassed?” Hal flops into the chair, baffled “Me? Of all people you- what?!” His outburst frightened a few people and Hal sunk into his cushioned chair, answering the questions on sheet. “Do you think this is still a good idea?” It had been a few weeks since they finalized the new law, of course people did not like it, they had all the concerns that Hal had, but it was necessary. 

 

Married couples were partly exempt from the process, but they still had to conceive like everyone else. 

 

“I’m not sure. Not for the people. But. We only have forty thousand people.” Rommath says, “Our feelings don’t matter when we barely have an army.” Hal tried to ignore the numbers when it came up, how many that were dead or dying, those pledged to Thrall’s army or missing. Hal knew his farstriders were the bulk of the forces, measuring about fifteen thousand, which were mostly scattered, but returning because of the letter Lor’themar had sent to Orgrimmar asking that all his people return for- well Hal didn’t know what kind of political moves he pulled to get their army home, but they were returning in ship loads. 

 

“What happens when we finish this?” Hal grumbles, glaring at the pink sheet before Rommath takes it “we go back to work until we get a letter- did you not read any of it?” Truthfully, no Hal didn’t read anything because what he had horrified him. “Come, we have work to do.”

 

 

 

 

Lor’themar was waiting for them at the entrance, looking a bit pale and queasy “Hal?” He stands at attention “I want to go hunting.” 

 

 

The afternoon sun beats down on Hal’s face as they sit among the trees, watching the lynx travel in a small pack, they were stalking, learning the pattern. Hal knew it already, but Lor’themar didn’t and it was the first thing you did as a hunter. Watch, follow, learn. Hal didn’t mind, in fact it told Hal that Lor’themar wanted this to be a regular thing. Like they used to do all the time. “That one is weak and little.” He mutters, watching one of the lynx in the back, Hal knew that one, its back legs didn’t quite grow correctly, he’d been waiting for it to get larger then it was, “Still maturing.” Lor’themar hums in response, “it’s been a long time since we’ve been out like this.” 

 

 

Halduron keeps his eyes trained on the lynx, “We’ve been busy.” Lor’themar grunts angrily “I wish I could just hunt.” Hal laughs softly, leaning back on his hunches, “We’re leaders now. We have duty.” Lor’themar laughs, a hard, loud and singular noise that frightened some birds “Halduron Brightwing speaking to me of duty?” Hal grins, then it falters a little, “It’s hard isn’t?” Lor’themar loses his smile as well, “Being lord regent? Being ranger general...” Hal had been apart of a long list of rangers, so many before him had bigger names, better families. 

 

He wasn’t even the longest running yet, but Halduron hoped he wasn’t going anywhere. 

 

“Someone has too.” Is all he says, now laying back, losing interest in the lynx, which have long passed on now. 

 

“If you could go back, would you undo it?” Lor’themar says, something strange in his voice, Hal considered his life, where he might be now if he hadn’t become ranger general “I don’t know.” Lor’themar throws his bow down, laying in the grass “you’re the leader of my armies-“ Hal nods, listening to him but not looking “really tell me Halduron.” Hal swallows thickly, it had been a long time since Lor’themar said his full name. 

 

Looking off to the retreating sun, eyes squinting to see, he says; “Absolutely not.” 

 

 

He hears Lor’themar adjust, maybe look at him in surprise or intrigue- or maybe nothing at all. “Neither would I.”

 

They stay there together until the moon peaks from the clouds. 

 

 

“You’re telling me you have eight bedrooms and five bathrooms?” Lor’themar laughs, pushing his shoulder as they walk back into the city, Hal nods, shrugging as he stumbles, “More- maybe? It’s a big house Lo.” The regent lord snorts, brows drawn high in disbelief “Is it? I don’t even have three bedrooms- how did my commander get more than I did?” He accents the last part with fake pain and fluffed rage, to which Hal laughs loudly at, knowing there were no other people in this block to disturb, “He worked harder-“ The outrage was plain and made Hal smile wide “oh great commander then may I trouble you for one of those rooms?” They’d be passing Lor’themar’s house to get to Hal’s, but he can’t find it in him to tell Lor’themar that. 

 

“Anything for my humble regent lord-“ Hal sings, spinning and feeling young again. Lor’themar jogs to keep up, all the while laughing, “Too bad Rommath hates hunting- maybe we should have invited him anyway.” Hal hums in amusement, “What hunting? We laid in the grass and drank!” He heard his voice echo through the abandon buildings “Rommath would have loved it!” The two stagger toward his villa, climbing the stairs toward the door, their moods only growing higher until the last step, when Lor’themar pauses, eyes sobering. 

 

“Hal.” Confusion hit his addled brain as Lor’themar couldn’t take his eyes off the mat, Hal follows his eyes, finding a large pink glossy letter. 

 

 

Hal had sobered quickly once thy got inside, Lor’themar pulling the letter open for him and reading it. “You’ve been picked for the first rounds of the program...” he says, “In two days you have to present yourself and... do your duty to your.. people...” 

Notes:

EDITED ON
Feb 26, 2019

Chapter 126: Halduron dabbles 3

Summary:

Halduron Brightwing/Original female character

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

 

Hal swallows, looking around him, squinting at the bright mage lights overbathing the room he was sitting in. It didn’t help his headache in the slightest and the cold made him shiver badly while he waited for the priest to finish his writing. They had just finished his- as they called it- his “pre-screening” which the priest dismissed as a formality. 

 

“So- Lord Brightwing.” The priest turns in his chair, smiling toward Halduron, “Let me just explain what’s going to happen.” Hal shifts, uncomfortable, “You’ll go with our handlers to the bathroom, where you’ll give us your clothes and gear to be cleaned and looked after, used the shower or tub- which ever you prefer- dress in the robe and if needed there will be a priestess there with tinctures and oils to-“ Hal flinches visibly, the priest pauses, obviously seeing his distress. “The what?” Hal blurts, the feeling of discomfort rising.

 

“Some of our guests find it very hard to... perform and need help- whether it be with maintaining an erection or anxiety we have pills, potions and oils to help you to conceive,” he says as gently as possible, “We only require you to take some supplements- standard of course, only to help with fertility.” Hal shrivels, face pinching and eyes narrowing. “But- we are all finished here, if you would please follow our handlers they will get you set! Thank you lord Brightwing!” 

 

 

Hal followed the two men as they lead him, for handlers they weren’t very intimidating, in fact Hal compared to them was taller, broader and just. Bigger. They lead him to the bathroom, where the priestess was standing with a tray in her arms, smiling at him while he disrobes- at least being decent enough to look away as he showered. 

 

 

Hal was dripping on the floor as the girl finally turns, “Would you like anything? To help?” Hal grimaces at the tray, little plastic cups held coloured liquids, little pills and even had four needles- which he did not  want to ask about. On her arm were two porcelain masks, decorated with jewels and silk, the priestess follows his eyes and smiles “would you like one?” Hal shakes his head quickly “what.. are they for?” She pulls it from her arm, the silk ribbons were gold spun and sparkling, “To keep it anonymous- or to help with nerves!” The girl was far too cheerful for his liking. Hal casts his eyes away, “No thank you.”  

 

“Very well!” She squeaks, bouncing on her heels, “Please come with me!” 

 

The priestess takes him down the hall, surprisingly there were many rooms, but no sound coming from them, they pass two corridors, which looked all the same, no room had numbers and the mage lights were almost too perfectly in place. Hal was almost too distracted to notice they had stopped, until he bumped into the priestess, “This is your room!” She says without a hitch, pulling a card from her coat and waving it in front of the almost seamless wall. Hal watches it open from the side, revealing a dimly lit, vaguely intimate room. The priestess gestures him inside and Hal cautiously walks through the door, jumping when it closed behind him. 

 

The room was bare, in the far corner there was a bathroom, in the very middle of it was a grand bed, coloured pink and made of silk. Hal blinks at the small figure huddled at the top of it- It must have been his partner.

 

She wasn’t looking at him, despite the noise he made coming in. Her hair was braided in a bun in the nape of her neck and looked like folded snow, a bit messy in a few places, but very pretty regardless. Her neck was long pale, a creamy colour while her shoulders were petite and shapely, from the position she was in Hal could see very little of her.

 

Hal decides to clear his throat, attempting to get her attention. Hal had thought she would jump in shock, do something to show she was surprised to see him, but the woman’s head rolls back slowly, eyes dull and lifeless as she looks right at him. Her face was angled, impossibly lovely, high cheeks and almond shaped eyes, lashes like snowflakes fluttering over her luminescent fel green eyes. Her lips were pressed together and in the dim light looked soft and petal-like, nothing in her face moved as she looked on at him, but suddenly her ears twitched to life, swivelling to a sound. If they hadn’t moved Hal would have thought her a statue, one made of marble and sculpted by the finest artist. 

 

Behind him the door opened and the light made his shadow grow largely in front of him, Hal peers behind him, ridged and flexed like a taught muscle. The priestess smiles at both of them, “Is there anything we can get you both at all?” Hal begins to shake his head until, “No we’re fine. Thank you,” the voice far behind him snaps, drawing his attention again. The woman had an angry snarl on her face, lip jutted in disgust, marring her pretty face. The priestess hums, “Very well, sir?” Hal licks his dry lips, unsure of what to do now. “Yes..?” He says, blinking dumbly. “Please join your partner!” Hal swallows, watching the door close again. 

 

 

He hears a soft sigh, eyes trailing the women he watches her stand from the bed, Hal hesitates a moment, then shakes his head, confidently striding over. Hal knows this dance- at least, he knows what to do with a women. Instead of going to her side, like he assumes she expected, Hal walks directly to her, stopping a few inches from her as she jerks away, eyeing him with wild, unmasked shock. The woman stares up at him, barely coming to his collarbone, Hal wasn’t expecting her to be so tiny, the woman’s tongue pokes out, eyes narrowing. Hal can’t takes his eyes off her face until her head jerks away, a faint flush across her cheeks. 

 

Hal can see her throat bob in effort as she ignores him, yanking the covers from the bed, holding them to her chest, for a moment he watches in confusion, the sheet hiding whatever she was doing until he felt a clump of soft silk hit his feet, looking he sees her robes pooling between their legs. Hal grows cold for a moment, only now remembering why they were here. 

 

The women sinks into the bed, desperate fingers holding the pink sheets to her chest, it doesn’t do anything to hide her figure, the slopes of her breasts or the curve in her hips. Hal shudders quietly, biting his lip, “J-just...” he hears, her voice so soft and vastly different now, “Do it al-already...” Hal’s mouth hangs open, watching the beautiful face grow paler and discontent. Hal nods, pulling at the ties on his robe, letting it fall on top of hers before joining her, mouth pressed in a thin line. 

 

The woman releases the blankets, her legs uncurl and lay limp, her head turned away, eyes squeezed shut. Hal hates the feeling in his stomach as he turns on top of her, hair hanging down his shoulder and bangs getting in his eyes as he pulls one of her thighs up around his hip. Hal can feel her shaking as she kneads the pillows in her clintched fist, Hal forces his eyes shut, teeth biting painfully in his lip, drawing blood as he takes his cock in hand and guides it toward her. 

 

Holding back a groan he sinks into her, shuddering without meaning to as he’s met with wet warmth, her cunt fluttering around his invasion, Hal gulps, hand pulling her other thigh to his hip, gratefully she understands his wishes without having to say them and wraps her ankles around him, pressing them into his spine. Hal felt the heat from her body as he leaned closer, gasping in the woman’s ear, making her flinch. Hal cocks his hips, rolling them in a slow motion as he rocks into her, slowly pulling almost all the way out before easing back in. 

 

Hal’s chest ached, he could feel her heart beating wildly, nipples brushing softly against his skin as he moved. They were soft and firm, perfectly sized in his mind. Hal wanted to lick them, roll his tongue over the rosy pink buds, suck them into his mouth and leave tiny pink hickies all over them. 

 

Hal groans deeply, sweaty hands slipping up her thighs to her pelvis, the woman squirms under him, face pressed deeply to the side in the pillow, desperately trying to ignore him, lips bloody red from biting down. Hal was pleased to feel her hands hesitantly rest on his ribs, nails pinching into his skin- it didn’t hurt and it felt oddly nice that she was at least responding to him, if only a little. Hal had feared she would just lay there- like a corpse, he knew it wasn’t... consensual on either of their parts, but at least she wasn’t crying or fighting him- or completely drugged out of her mind. 

 

Hal had heard some things. 

 

Hal’s ears perk at the sound of her moving, her face turns to him, eyes full of tears, but none falling down her face. Hal slows his hips, gaze locked with hers, searching for something he can’t see. The woman wiggles slightly, eyes snapping away, her whole face flaming. Hal jumps slightly at the pressure of her nails, pricking his skin. Hal feels his mouth twitch, barely helping a smile as he picks his pace back up. 

 

Hal’s mind grows hazy as he relaxes more, teeth clenched, grunting as he bottoms out, feeling her cunt coax him further. Hal holds her hips to the bed, daring to lean his face into her neck, smelling the clean skin as his nose pressed into the tendons of her throat, the woman doesn’t reject him, doesn’t jerk away like he expected, in fact she lets herself get closer to him, allowing his lips to brush the delicate skin. Hal tentatively kisses  her, quick and soft, now wondering how she would react to it. Halduron’s ear twitches as he hears her make the first sound since they had begun, a soft moan, barely more than a gasp. With renewed vigor he fucks her harder, trying to invite something out of this woman.

 

 

A soft moan bursts from her lips, breaking  the near silence from the room as she envelops his cock, and Hal’s smile grows. This is familiar territory. He was no novice to this arena. Hal pumps his cock into her again and again, eliciting little gasps from her as they rock the bed with the rhythm of Hal’s hips, the soft padded thump, thump, thump is music to his ears. She looks to even be enjoying it as her moans become more frequent, filling the room. A clear voice split the air from an unknown source, breaking through the haze and startling them both as magic invades the room with a soft hum, “Hello I am your assigned priestess- I appreciate the enthusiasm, but could you put her legs up on your shoulders? It improves the likelihood of conception.” The magic fades and Hal looks to her, any enjoyment gone from her face. Hal sighs as he hoists her legs up onto his shoulders, sliding his cock between the open lips of her cunt again.

 

Hal slides his hands under her back as he fills her once again, lifting her slightly off the bed and holding her onto his cock as he slips in and out of her. The woman’s gasping quickens as Hal went faster and faster, until her body stiffens. Hal felt the orgasm tearing through her body with his hands before he felt it with his cock, a wave of burning heat rolling through her body that crashes upon his cock like a storm, a simple broken sound escapes her mouth as she writhes in his hands. Hal rides the waves as her body pulses until he drives his cock deep within her and releases, letting the cum leak inside her, mixing with her own climax as it kept pushing out of him, swirling through her cunt as he pushes deeper into her, desperate to consume the space between them. 

 

Hal hangs over her panting, locking eyes with her as he feels a connection between them growing, when the priestess’ voice rings out again. “Please hold her legs up over her chest to improve the chance of fertilization- we can let someone in to do it if you’re uncomfortable, but please wait for up to fifteen minutes while we determine if it was successful.” Hal looks back at her and knows that whatever he had felt had vanished already. “Do you mind if I-“ “Just do it,” she snaps back, lying flat again, eyes far and dull once again. Hal moves her legs into position, and asks, “What’s your name?” She glares at him a moment more before sighing tiredly, “Asch.” Asch. At least he had gotten that, “I’m Ha-“

 

“Everyone knows who you are!” Hal sighs, eyes cast away. 

 

Asch stares daggers into him before softening a fraction, realizing it was equally as painful for him to be here. “This... this is the strangest thing I’ve ever had... to do, I... just... I just want to go home.” Hal looks at her, her face flustered from the outburst but still apologetic, “Forgive me my lady,” Asch regains her composure, calming herself, “It doesn’t matter.” Asch mutters, “We’ve finished.” “Actually,” The priestess’ voice begans as Hal drops her legs, “It didn’t take, you’ll have to either try again, or rest and try again in the morning.” Hal suddenly feels her grow ridged, tense like a bowstring and as quickly as the magic faded, Asch yanks her legs out of his grasp and pulls the sheets over her. Hal gulps, settling in at her side. 

 

 

 

Notes:

EDITED ON
Mar. 4, 2019

Chapter 127: Halduron dabbles 4

Summary:

Halduron Brightwing/Original female characters

Baby we gettin weird.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

 

Asch tried not to stare at the man balls deep inside of her, but it was hard. With each thrust it caused her to flutter, whimper pathetically and just barely did she suppress herself from reaching out to him. 

 

He was on his knees, her ass was in his hands and Asch desperately attempted to ignore how his arms rippled, showing his quiet strength as he held practically her entire body off the mattress. Halduron Brightwing, a man with a grand reputation, leader of the entire army and Lor’themar Theron’s actual best friend. Asch hated it. 

 

Hated his handsome face, his soft golden yellow hair, his beautiful smile, and the absolute god-like cock that filled her better than any before him. Asch hated how big and warm and rough his hands were, hated how gentle they were in handling her, how kind he was despite how putrid this whole situation truly was. Asch hated how she sounded as he brought her to completion again without so much as touching her, a single shout and a long, low moan. 

 

Hal shakes as he feels it, she watches him grind his teeth and carry on, while she could barely keep her eyes open to watch him shudder and shake in effort. His eyes were jaded, a shadowy possessive look came over him as he held back his pending orgasm. Asch bit her cheek to stop herself from hissing at him to finish it, because truthfully, she didn’t want him to stop. 

 

She would hate that.

 

His hips slaps into her ass wetly, the very sound was degrading, reminding her that she was nothing but a broodmare. Asch tried to let it go, tried to think of anything but why they were really here, but as she felt her own slick wet and the cock filling it, it was impossible. Asch finds herself feeling rage, fisting the sheets and yanking, the fitted part had come undone from it and sprang over the corner, which her partner saw and only purrs at, mistaking it for passion rather than rage. 

 

Still- there was something... something in those damn, dark eyes that made her tingle, those perfect eyes like spotlights, only looking at her. It was intoxicating somehow. 

 

Hal suddenly drops her to the bed, dazing her as his cock falls out of her warm, open hole. For a moment her mouth hangs open, but then in a swift, single, degrading motion, Hal has her on her belly, cock filling her again. Asch’s mouth can’t seem to close, her face flushed darkly with embarrassment, humiliation- shame. 

 

Asch feels his hands, those big and calloused fingers dance up her ribs, barely touching the sides of her breasts before returning to her bottom, crudely kneading it in his hands, pulling her open as he spears his cock down into her. Hal folds over her, moaning harshly, his mouth so close to her ear that it twitches to life from the assaulting noise. Asch’s mouth still hangs open, mortified as he pulls her thighs open, forcing his cock deeper than she thought possible. 

 

Asch grips the pillows, arms giving out at her sides, managing to push her bottom higher into his seeking hips and head lower, Hal seems to like it, however, it had him purring wantonly, even going so far as to snake his hand under her belly and circle her clit. Asch jolts, finally her throat produces a noise, one she didn’t recognize as hers until Hal responds by nipping her shoulder, quick and sharp, fangs pinching the skin just enough to make her writhe and whimper, a sloppy wet kiss follows it and Asch preens quietly, hating how good it feels. 

 

There was something pathetic, demeaning about the whines she made with her own mouth, how each time his cock slides out, her voice practically begs him back, or when he fills her out, the humming moan and the grip of her cunt, trying to hold him still. Hal falters, hips sputtering and rhythm broken. Asch feels him pound into her, a pace overly punishing before an absolutely thrilling sound rips out of his throat. Dangerous, dark and it made her tingle as his cock bruised her cervix, Asch can feel it twitch inside of her, his cum spurting against her womb. Asch screams as his fingers twist against her clit, ass violently pushing into him, head shaking and hair wild and loose. 

 

Her cunt squeezes him, milking his whole orgasm into her. Hal pants against her shoulder, keeping her in the bent position as he gathers his breath, his heart pounding wildly into her as his chest slots over her. Asch ignores how he perfectly fits her, from his cock to how his body curves. 

 

“Was I... too rough... with...you?” He manages through strained breaths, hands now next to her head, Asch hated how his body keeps her locked in place, how easy it seemed for him to hold her still with just the tilt of his hips, firmly pressed into her backside, even as his cock softens inside her, he does not remove himself. Asch shakes her head, mouth clamped shut in a cocktail of anger, shame and all-around mortification. Asch wants to scream at him, but knows better than to cause any kind of scene, lest the priestess watching thinks she’s pankicing or otherwise unstable and makes a handler give her something to calm down. 

 

“Please place a pillow under her hips,” the voice rings out, sizzling with magic and annoyance, Hal jerks against her, making his soft cock drag against her sensitive walls, Asch hisses quietly, hating how she revelled in the feeling. Hal gathers a pillow in his hand before lifting her hips up, guiding the cold pillow beneath her with little problem. Asch practically feels her dignity shed away as Hal settles behind her. What was worse; she likes it. 

 

Hal was warm and safe. 

 

Asch wanted to hate him. 

 

They wait like that, in comfortable silence, Hal being insufferably kind to her by dutifully rubbing circles into her back as a way of apologizing. Asch sighs, pulling her arms under herself to rest, “What time do you think it is?” Hal mutters quietly, staring off at a wall, Asch looks behind her, eying him as he forlornly looks at nothing. Asch swallows, “Night? Day?” she hisses, utterly hateful, but not toward him, “Who can say.” Hal fidgets behind her, something he’s been doing a lot. His fingers strain for something as they hold her, sometimes they thrum across her skin, an inpatient tick she thinks. 

 

“I need to hunt something,” he grumbles, fidgeting again. Asch frowns, “What?” She asks, against her better judgement. Hal seems to pause for a moment, maybe shocked she responded, maybe happy. “I hunt. Lynx and dragon hawk. Their population is getting out of control lately.” He explains, a note in his voice, something akin to joy, Asch thinks. “You have time for it?” His hands dig into her back, making her moan in pleasure, Asch can hear him smile, continuing he says, “I make time. I have too.” Asch peers back at him, to which he shrugs “they get dangerous.” 

 

“Why wouldn’t you get someone to do it for you?” Hal laughs and Asch feels it through her whole body. “Why should I?” he asks, while chuckling softly. “You're the commander,” Asch muses, as Hal pets her skin, “My time isn’t more valuable then theirs.” And Asch thinks, not for the first time, that he couldn’t get more insufferable. 

 

Before she can say anything, the priestess’ voice interrupts them, “I’m sorry but it seems to not have taken yet.” Asch openly growls, suddenly getting up, which shocked Hal enough that his cock slipped out and he fell back. Asch turns, hair completely undone from it’s neat braid. Hal looks up at her, skin shiny and eyes wide. Asch hums angrily, eyes narrowing as she climbs in his lap, hands squeezing his impressive biceps, she was angry enough to completely ignore how nervous she really was. 

 

Still Hal. Hal. He was sitting still, looking up at her with beautiful surprise with impossibly dark eyes. “F-fuck me,” she squeaks, face flaming as her voice cracks suddenly, completely ruining her confidence, still she pushes forward, wetting her lips, “I want.. to- to go home-“ her breath is uneven, “And for... forget you exist-“ in one large motion Hal pushed up, hands pulling her down to his lips in the most heated kiss she’s ever been apart of, in the same motion he impales her on his cock. Asch struggles, crying out against his mouth as he completely consumes her, uncaring that she’s wailing in his mouth as he fucks up into her, needily gripping her ass in his hands, forcing her down onto him. His bare chest rubs into her, making her nipples pebble, Asch trembles, feeling herself submit the tiny, shaking control she had to him, letting Hal just. Just. 

 

 

Ruin her.

 

 

He snarls against her mouth, tearing it away and grazing his teeth against her jaw, not biting, not even nipping the flesh, just showing her exactly what he could be capable of. Asch feels herself gush at the idea. There was a force behind him, something she would be terrified of if they were staring at each other from opposite sides, a power overwhelming, even as she sits high in his lap, she feels utterly at his mercy. His hands were bruising, surely she would have marks of his fingers impressed on her flesh long after this was over, no part of her seems to care now however. 

 

Asch moans helplessly as Hal attacked her neck, carefulness gone somehow. Asch runs her nails down his chiselled arms, making him growl into her skin, exciting her- whether because it was dangerous or simply the thrill of danger that wasn’t there, Asch wasn’t sure. But she liked it. Asch gouges his shoulders with her nails, making him falter and hiss, Asch gasps wetly when his teeth savage her collarbone. “Just asking for it,” he purrs darkly, “Aren’t you?” Asch sputters hotly, eyes wide as he looks up at her, gaze hooded and scary. It made her dizzy. 

 

Hal rolls his hips up into her, holding her against him without allowing her to do anything but take it, and she does. She feels him all the way down to her toes, the rolling spasm of sensation. His cock is pounding into her without apology, without concern, forcing her open. Hal stares at her with the intensity of a hunting predator, Asch wriggles uselessly, like a rabbit in a lynx's jaws, and Hal bites. An aborted sound of pain comes out of her mouth, but it turns into a moan as his hilted cock pulses, dragging along her abused walls, his hands pulling and dropping her onto him. Asch would have been embrassassed by the dirty, wet slapping of their skin, but his mouth was a good distraction. Purposefully Hal flats his tongue and watches her watch him lick up her skin in a crude display of desire. 

 

“Fuck.” 

 

The sheer wrecked sound of his voice made her belly fill with butterflies and an emotion she wanted to bury. 

 

Asch yanks his hair, twisting it in her grip, pulling his mouth to her in a moment of sheer control, of course he overtakes her, the force of it driving her insane. Asch feels the coil in her stomach break, wash over her in a crash of pleasure, of heat. Asch clings to him, nose pressed into his cheek, forehead to forehead. Asch gasps gently, pressed fully into him as Hal groans, the fast, hateful swirl between them all but gone, now all that was left was desperate hands clinging to each other, whispers of breath and soft panting. 

 

 

Hal wraps his arms around her, cock leaking into her, warm and safe. 

 

Asch holds his face, delicate hands touching his hard, defined jaw, Hal nuzzles her, sighing contently. Asch feels herself slump into him, drowsy and tired. Sleep overtook her. 

 

 

Asch awoke, warm and boneless, she could hear the soft beating of a heart beside her, a powerful, resonating sound. “Mhm...?” She moans, feeling her bones crack. Her nose was pressed into Hal’s neck, she can smell the sweat and sex still clinging to him. He stirs beside her, arms renewing their grip and pulling her taught against him “Hi...” he whispers, rolling them over. Asch can feel his legs tangle with hers and wonders if she had ever felt this nice before. 

 

“Hi...” Asch mutters back, rubbing her eyes. “Did I hurt you?” The question was loaded, one she wasn’t sure had a definite answer, of course she felt sore, between her legs and on her hips, but she shakes her head against his chest, rubbing her hand over his ribs. “No.” As she says it, Asch feels his lips on her forehead, a gentle, warm kiss. 

 

“I-“ he begins, but then, is interrupted. This time the door to their room opens and in floods the priestess and a handler, holding their clothes, “Congratulations you’re pregnant!” 

 

 

Notes:

EDITED ON
Mar. 4, 2019

Chapter 128: Ezrath dabbles 1

Summary:

Original male demon hunter/Original female blood elf

Shits gonna get wild

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

 

 

Around the command table stood many important figures. Maxwell Tyrosus, Lady Liadrin, Aponi Brightmane and Vindicator Boros. They were arguing about the most recent events on the broken shore. 

 

Asch stands at the head, a headache cracking white lightning behind her eyes. They had been at this for hours, what to do- how to do it. It was getting exhausting and ideas were growing shorter then tempers. “We’ll lose the shore if we don’t do something!” Tyrosus snaps, banging his closed fists on the dark wooden table, shaking the papers and half-empty mugs of ale. 

 

Asch cringes at the sound, shaking her head and feeling her sharp ears ring. “Why must we do anything?” Lady Liadrin huffs, hair flicking with her head, eyes growing bored, “Can we not let another order step in? Our soldiers are tired.” Tyrosus glares flatly at her, nose crinkling, “Everyone is tired Liadrin.” Most around the table agreed with him with ragged sighs and slumps. Asch clutches her head, feeling the cold steel of her gloves, a small comfort. “Demons are overpowering the point as we speak- we must do something! The tomb will be lost if we do not,” Aponi says, slow and worried, her voice soft but carried the wisdom of her people. 

 

Finally having enough, Asch hisses lowly, “I will go.” Weary heads turn, some faces stunned, some relieved- but all staring. “Highlord...?” Asch pulls hair from her face and glares, “Someone must go. I will present myself to Stormrage and be done with it. Alone.” Lady Liadrin begin to speak, but Asch was finished listening and promptly removed herself from the command table without so much as a glance to the rest of her commanders. 

 

Swinging Ashbringer over her shoulder, she entered the portal. 

 

 

The shore as Asch remembered had never been in a worse shape, none of the buildings were erect and soldiers were posted at every entrance to the hill they took for their footholds. Khadgar was at ready, the old mage's face long and tired as he flung another ball of pure magic at something Asch wasn’t able to see and Illidan Stormrage looked to just be returning, glavies salivating with blood and bits.

 

“Lord Stormrage!” Asch snaps, approaching with her weapon drawn and thrumming in her grasp. The demon hunter glances her way, brow tilted in amusement. “Highlord.” Asch knew they had never met officially, for a moment she was surprised that he knew of her, before realizing she looked rather obvious. 

 

Rather than dwell on it, Asch straightens herself and clutches Ashbringer tighter “I present myself for duty.” For a brief moment he looked intrigued, then quickly became smug, “Have you?” Asch felt a pang of annoyance, possibly the beginnings of hatred, “What difference will you make, little elf?” Asch glares, “I am Highlord for a reason, Betrayer.” This made his face sour a little, but then a smirk presents itself in place of it, “That you are.”

 

They look at each other for a long moment, Asch stares because she awaits his direction, Illidan stares because he is completely amused by the determination across her little sunny-kissed face. “Alright little Highlord.” His wings crackle as he moves, stretching them like a bat, head tilted as if he was sizing her up. Asch stays still, staring ahead as he shadows over her, circling like a vulture, suddenly, much closer than Asch was expecting, he yells “Ezrath!” Asch flinches ridgedly, a deep snarl developing on her pretty face.

 

Asch glares to the side, sees one of the many hunters lazing about get up, wings curling behind him. The hunter had a natural sharp face, dark and deep purple skin that looked ashen and rough to the touch, his eyes were hidden behind a veil but blazed alive with felfire. His horns shit up from his forehead and curled, much like Illidan himself- but unlike the lord of the Illidari his looked neat, almost cared for. His hair was black, hanging down his shoulders and catching the wind as he moved toward them with a swagger so confident Asch almost rolled her eyes.

 

“Lord Illidan?” His voice was surprisingly soft, but still edged with roughness, like two pebbles scraping under a stream. “Take the...” he pauses, laughing slightly, “Highlord with you when you leave the point next.” 

 

 

Asch whirls around, hair flying around her hair “I am Highlord of the Silver hand!” She snaps, teeth bared “I do not take orders!” Illidan blinks, seemingly unphased by her outburst, “You presented yourself for duty- have you not?” Asch sputters, thrown off at his response, oddly calm and overly frustrating “and your duty will be whatever my Illidari decides.” 

 

This only made her angrier.

 

“I will not follow one of your pets, Betrayer!” Ezrath tilts his head down to look at her, unamused, “But you will.” Asch can feel her face twitch in irritation. Asch stood her ground, but to the two hunters, her conviction did not matter and they became uninterested and Asch was left to stand proudly, alone. 

 

Asch cursed herself, but followed where they went.

 

 

Illidan and Ezrath walk closer to the middle of the point before pausing, “See what you can do in the front lines. The mage has a team trying to push the borders.” Asch froze, “The front lines?!” It had been an age since she was in any vanguard. They ignore her “Lord Illidan.” Ezrath glares her way and pushes past. 

 

“You die and I’m leaving your corpse.” He hisses, glaives burning in his hands. Asch grips Ashbringer to the point it hurts, “With so much Demon scum around I'll try and not kill you too.” The hunter regards her, looking down at her with annoyance you would give a bug. “A bit big for you isn’t it?” Asch grits her teeth, feeling her fingers pulse in pain as she tightened her hold on the grip, “Would you like to find out, demon?” This only makes him smile smugly, teeth shining. Asch glares thickly, staring ahead.

 

“Keep up little Highlord,” Ezrath says before darting away towards a pack of demons beyond the safety line. Asch stands in shock, eye twitching. “Ass-“ she mutters before charging after him. 

 

 

 

Asch has begun to wonder how long they would be out here, after a gruelling six hours- going on seven now, it was beginning to wear on her patience. Ezrath snorts, wiping fel blood and guts off his weapon with his cloak, “Tired, princess?” Asch glares sharply toward him. “I will cut you where you stand!” She all but screams, angry beyond belief. Ezrath smirks, only amused by her rage, “Go on then, try. If you can.” 

 

Asch lunges for him, but Ezrath vaults back, laughing in derision as he lands, head cocked in a challenging manner, “Is this the best the Silver hand has to offer?” Asch glares in anger, a ball of light develops in her hands before she throws it, the hunter steps to the side, hardly bothered by it. Asch snarls, “I’ve had enough of you, demon scum!” And Ezrath watches her storm off, raising a brow but making no move to follow. 

 

 

The shore was in better shape than when Ezrath had left, the rubble had been cleaned and was starting to form the next command center, Illidan had heard him come and left his conversation with Khadgar. “Where is the highlord?” He asks first, fel riddled eyes squinting in annoyance. “Off on her own. What should it matter?” Ezrath has known Illidan long and he can see when the great lord is enraged, despite it being subtle, Ezrath still flinches at the quiet, measured tone. “That is the Highlord of the Silver Hand, you will find her and bring her back.” 

 

 

Ezrath glares at his lord, “She decided her fate why must I babysit her?!” Illidan stands at his full height, dwarfing him in his shadow, wings flexing minutely, “It will be your head upon the gates if she is not returned intact,” he leans closer to Ezrath “and I will do little to stop them when they call for it.” Ezrath snarls pure smoke at his master, both glare at each other before finally, Ezrath backs up a single step, resigning his fate, eyes glaring to the side. “Go. And do not return until she is with you.” 

 

 

Ezrath had scoured the entire shore, looking with his sight to see if he can spot the irritating golden light Paladins posses, he had almost given up until a cave on the very edge of the shore finally produced results. Inside, surrounded by demons, was the little fading light. Ezrath snarls quietly, glaring as he approached. Inside three demons were circling her, among them were heaps of bodies, but Ezrath didn’t have a moment to feel impressed by it. 

 

 

“Look at the proud Paladin,” one demon cops in a dangerous, dark voice, sword poking her dented armour, “Broken and beat.” Another laughs, “And little,” it purrs, leaning down and pulling her shoulder plate off in one tug, throwing it in a heap. “Too little for our cocks?” the last chimes, head tilted and face dark with a smirk. 

 

“For the first,” another chuckles, yanking the rest of her armour off, pulling at the bloody soaked linens underneath, revealing more sun kissed and damaged skin, they pull at her legs, sharp claws playing with her naked thigh while another dangerously curls around her naked chest. Ezrath can smell new blood as they touch her, finally moving to action in one quick step.

 

Ezrath can see them begin to pull their cocks from their leathers and hurries, darting behind the demons, his weapons slice into the flesh, the two other demons jolt in surprise, and Ezrath doesn’t wait for the shock to pass before sinking his blades into their bodies. They fall in heaps, blood spurting, Ezrath wipes his weapons on their flesh, sighing before pulling his attention toward the elf on the ground. 

 

Ezrath sheathes his weapons, taking the highlord into his arms, looking around he knew he couldn’t stay here, it was too open, too large a space and far too dangerous. Ezrath huffs, and begins to walk off toward the exit. 

 

 

Asch shudders, feeling great pain as she opened her eyes to see a tall rock ceiling. Without thought she springs up, panicking greatly, “Stop-“ a voice commands her, while an oddly warm hand pressed on her shoulder. Asch looks up, “Demon hunter?!” She spits, rage filling her. “You’re hurt,” he says, pushing her down. Asch can feel her wrappings tug, the bindings in her chest strain as he forces her in the pelt beneath her “did you- am I naked?!” She chokes out, enraged, from somewhere close she can hear a scoff, “You were bleeding-“ Asch forced herself upward, clutching her side and grinding her teeth, “You are insufferable!” Ezrath was looking at her flatly, unamused with his glaive resting in his lap, “Don’t flatter yourself.” Asch snarls at him, launching herself at him in an attack.

 

Asch shoves his weapon into the sand, slicing open the soft underside of her hand, Ezrath. Ezrath tilts back, watching her shove his shoulders but not really moving him. “Enough-“ He belts, rumbling in annoyance. Asch glares at him, hands still pressed firmly on his shoulders, Ezrath can feel her bleeding on his skin, “I fucking hate you,” she says, climbing in his lap, before kissing him hard, full of teeth and rage. 

 

For a moment he’s stunned, unable to move, then in a fit of his own anger, begins to kiss her an equally violent manner, hands gripping her hips, claws just barely puncturing her skin. Asch’s hands move over him, her blood smearing along his skin before she clasps his horn, yanking his head back and ruining the kiss. Ezrath hisses through his teeth as she bites his neck, gouging his hard flesh with her teeth, licking up her own blood with large sweeps. 

 

 

Ezrath rakes his claws over her flesh, cutting the wrappings he just put on, revealing her naked chest. His rough fingers pinch her nipples, electing a hard, snarling moan from her as she sinks her teeth into his shoulder. Ezrath forces her mouth off him in one quick motion, hands pushing her higher in his lap so he can free his cock. Asch claws at his skin, “Hurry up!” She barks, yanking his hair. Ezrath squeezes her ass in his hand, the echo of his hand hitting her flesh resounds across the cave. Asch jumps, face screwed in displeasure, “Be quiet,” he threatens, eyeing her dangerously, challenging her to speak. Asch’s face twitches in anger, teeth pink and exposed. 

 

Still, she says nothing. 

 

Ezrath holds his cock straight, pulling her down onto the head before smirking as he watches the rosy wet lips part at his intrusion “You want it bad- hm?” He says, watching her cunt twitch at his question, “The pretty highlord wants to get fucked by a demon.” Asch goes ridged in his hands, nails angerly digging into him, “Say it,” he coos nastily. Asch hesitates and Ezrath waits, instead of responding Asch pushes him. This time Ezrath was not expecting it and falls back, the sand hits his back. 

 

Before he can get up Asch pushes him down again, swatting his hands away and sitting on his cock in one swift motion. Ezrath groans at the warmth of her cunt, nails sinking into the sand below him. Asch bounces on his cock at a fast, rough pace, hands pressed on his abdomen for leverage. Her moans reach the rocky ceiling as her head falls back, Ezrath begins to meet her, shoving his hips up. Asch pauses, shaking as he continues, Ezrath for a moment wonders why, but then a wail rips from her throat and her whole body writhes, cunt squeezing him mercilessly. 

 

Ezrath gasps, hisses out like an animal, hands finding her hips and holding her still as she forces his cock into her as she climaxes, ruthlessly finding his finish, his cock pulses, spurting into her cunt. Ezrath growls, stilling himself as his cock twitches, filling her, he can feel it oozing out around the base, messily pooling into the sand beneath them. 

 

Asch shakes, leaning over him before easing down on top of him, shuddering in effort “I fucking hate you,” she mutters, tired. Ezrath runs a hand over her back, smearing sweat and dirt along her skin. He says nothing as he feels her bleed on his skin. 

 

 

 

Notes:

EDITED ON
Mar. 4, 2019

Chapter 129: Ezrath dabbles 2

Summary:

Original male demon hunter/Original female blood elf

Chapter Text

Asch bend over in front of a bush, wrecthing the contents of her stomach, frowning as she wiped her mouth, staring at the ruined rose bush. Gripping the golden stair bannister, Asch heaves upward, instantly getting dizzy and collapsing into the marble staircase. 

 

 

Asch heard steps echo along the marble floor, head pounding with each footfall, looking up Asch sees her house manager Sellius Starseeker. His eyes search her face for a moment before smiling softly “my lady,” in his hand was a plastic cup fulled with two small, white pills. “These should help.”

 

Asch glares at the cup before yanking it, displeasure in her face as she swallows them dry. “Th-thank you.” She mutters, forcing herself up, wobbling. Sellius grabs her waist, “my lady be careful.” Asch shoves at his hands, batting him away as she moves to the glass doors, on looking her garden “I want to work.” 

 

Sellius shakes his head “my lady-“ “Asch. How long have you known me?” Sellius laughs softly, rolling his eyes “long, my lady.” Asch glares back at him. “You know you’ve been taken off active duty” he says, firmly. Asch’s can see her lip pull into a snarl, taken off active duty and barred from leaving her own property. Her only company Sellius, a man who watched her come into this world and knew her better than she did herself. 

 

“I’m not disabled!” She hisses, seeing his eyes rolling in the reflection “you are six months pregnant, my lady.” Peering down at herself, the bump was visible under her loose robes, mocking her. “Oh yes. Do not remind me of that mistake.” She snarls, biting her words. Everyone knew. The capital was abuzz about the pregnant heiress, her neighbours constantly stopping by, wishing her well, even as they gossiped about the single mother to be, who the father possibly is and how she could possibly raise it by herself. Asch sways, feeling the pain in her head squeeze behind her eyes, she felt weak, irritable and tired. Asch wanted to get rid of it from the moment she threw up in the order hall trash bin, but since her race numbered a total of fourty thousand, doing so was against the law. For now. 

 

Especially since she had found out it was a boy. 

 

The regent lord had put a ban on aborting children until such a time their race could afford the losses. Asch was an important figure and there was no possible way of hiding her condition, Lor’themar was absolutely ecstatic when he heard, advocating how wonderful it was a leader of her magnitude was pregnant, he didn’t even care that the father was suspiciously absent. Asch was glad that no one had outright asked who it was, because she did not have a good answer.

 

A foggy few months ago, a chance encounter with the most infuriating man. 

 

A Demon hunter.

 

A Nightelf.

 

A member of the Alliance. 

 

 

Ears bounced between his legs as the sound of wet slurping echoed around him. Ezrath sighs overly loud and the warm mouth stuffed full of his cock pulled off, angrily staring at him “am I boring you?!” She hisses, wiping her mouth. “Yes. Obviously.” Ezrath snaps, baring his teeth. The girl was beautiful, pinkish skin and starlight eyes, a perfect face. Her ears twitch, and Ezrath becomes furious for reasons he wasn’t prepared to admit. So he ignores it, glaring at the girl holding his cock and she glares right back. 

 

Ezrath elbows the soft pillows he was resting on, looking passed her and around at the others in the room, various couples, various positions, all at various stages in their copulation. “Did I tell you to stop?” He suddenly says, eyeing her with annoyance. The girls mouth twitches in hatred, the beginnings of a snarl before she flicks her gaze away and into his cock once more. 

 

 

Ezrath feels his breath hitch as her mouth connects with him again, but his mind wanders elsewhere, his vision clouds and through the fog he sees tall, sunny kissed knife-shaped ears twitch, bend and curl. Hair drawn up and behind them in a tight, neat bun, held up by so many pins. Ezrath remembers pulling them out with his sharp teeth, watching that tight bun become a snow drift curtain of lush soft hair. He remembers the cold feeling of her blood, wet against his skin. He remembers the sand under his palms and the bite of her nails sinking into his forearms. 

 

 

What he remembers most were the blazing hatred in her eyes as she looked at him and bit into his lip when he kissed her.

 

“Asch...” he mutters, feeling his hips jerk up into the warm mouth. The girl takes it, swallowing around his pulsing base, Ezrath basks in the feeling, he can almost feel the soft strands of snow white hair in his fingers, his own blood on his lips and the feeling of her body shaking and her breath coming out in quick pants. 

 

Ezrath is brought out of his cloud when he feels a sharp pain in his thigh, looking down he sees the pink faced girl, lips wet and cum pearling down her chin “who is that?!” She barks, nails stabbing his skin. Ezrath opens his mouth. 

 

 

“Asch.” 

 

She had slipped off the staircase once and suddenly she wasn’t allowed upstairs anymore. Asch had had just about enough- but she had no one to yell at like she wanted. The only person in the house besides her was a man who was practically her father. The only person she cared for. Loved. The only person that would be there for her after this accident was born. Come to think of it.

Would he?

 

 

Asch remembers giving in, kissing that infuriating elf and making the single most catastrophic mistake of her life. 

 

 

Sellius was there, fixing her pillow and Asch was going to let him leave, but then she grabbed his arm, for a moment he stares at her, confused. “My lady?” He muttered, head tilted in question. “What if I did something wrong?” She says, forcing the words out of her mouth, regretting it already. 

“Asch, it’s only a-“ “no. It’s. No.” 

 

Asch adjusts herself, eyes downcast “the father isn’t. He’s.” She swallows, “Alliance.” 

 

Sellius looks at her, green eyes bright and shocked, “it was a mistake- I- I made a mistake-“ “Asch.” He quiets her rambling, pressing a kiss against her “it will be fine. I will make sure it is fine.” Asch crumbles, crying. 

 

Little time went on and Sellius, knowing now what he did, made plans. Asch was to write a letter to Lor’themar, resigning her commission as Highlord of their order and they would leave for Dalaran before the baby was due. This gave them precious little time to pack what was needed and be off. Lor’themar of course came to her villa, questioning her up and down about her decision of leaving her command, but as Sellius told her, Asch said her part, securing the lie.

 

“My lord I want to fully dedicate myself to my baby, I cannot do this if I’m away. A mother... should be with her child.” Asch felt sick as she spoke, swallowing bile as she lied, slowly cutting the threads of her own life away as Lor’themar looked on at her in despair. “This is what you have chosen?” He whispers, eyes long and disappointed “yes,” she grinds out, adding “I want to live in Dalaran, I want my son to follow my grandfather and become a mage.” Sellius said the only sanctuary they would have left was Dalaran. She would not be welcome in Silvermoon once it was discovered her child was of Nightelven blood. They may put her to death if found out. The Kirin Tor would protect her, as Khadgar promised. 

 

Lor’themar’s lip thins, staring off behind her “so far away.” He mutters sadly “I had hoped... you would have accepted my help in this matter.” Asch blinks, shock blatantly   on her face as he chuckles, pain obvious in his chest “Dalaran.” He says, not caring to explain his words. “I shall miss you then I suppose.” Asch opens her mouth, but Sellius, who knew far better, speaks for her “my lady is fatigued my lord- perhaps we let her rest?” Lor’themar withdraws, face returning to a flat stare, pain resonating in his eye. “Yes... I’m... terribly sorry Asch. I will leave now. I will see you again.” Asch smiles, knowing that she never will. 

 

 

When he leaves she turns her back, eyes filling with fresh tears “he wouldn’t have told,” she argues, despite Sellius saying nothing, “yes my lady he would have.” Lor’themar was a good man, one she might have been happy with one day, but he could not keep her secret.

 

Watching Sellius work with movers was a system shock Asch never thought she would endure. This estate has always been under her family, cared for and lived in by her great great grandfather since the day it was built. Passed on to the next generation until it came to her. Both of her parents had died in the attacks, she was an only child and Sellius always said one day it will be full again with life, one she would make herself with whomever she chose. Now the halls were decorated with white sheets and delivery labels. No one would live here now. 

 

No life would walk these halls, eat in the dining room or sing by the piano by the garden doors. 

 

Asch wasn’t suppose to be upstairs, but she waddles along, coming to stop in front of a room she only ever twice been inside.

 

The doors creak and dust flies up in her face, Asch coughs, frantically waving the dust away as she blinks it out of her eyes. This room. Her parents room. It wasn’t anything special, dark wood surrounded a white sheeted bed, a canopy of pink silk falling over the sides. She was born here, this room. As was her father and his father. Asch thought she would deliver her own child here. But there was nothing left here. No shipping labels or indication anyone had stepped into this place since the day her parents had passed. 

 

Asch touches the silk, watching the dust fall off of it like sand. She wonders why Sellius had never cleaned this place, as he did everywhere else. But then, he only spent time dutifully cleaning places she had frequented. 

 

Asch wonders what her new home will look like, what the halls will sound like. Will it house laughter? As these once did? Will it consume her pain and rage, will it become a prison like this place had? Asch did not know. Decided not to think about such things as she shut the door to her parents room one final time. 

 

Sellius was not angry with her, in fact he looked forlorn, displaced as he stood awaiting her at the grand entrance, four luggage bags at his feet. He had grown up here too. Asch had forgotten that until now. He was a very young man when she was born, it had been an age since then and this was as much her home as it was his. Asch smiles a watery, upset smile and he does the same. 

 

No one questioned them beyond Lor’themar, it was not strange of her to decide to uproot herself and leave to Dalaran. Sellius was clever in that way. He knew everyone would say how thoughtful she was being, that it was the best idea for her baby, giving up her commission to be a full time mother was as noble as any of the deeds she had done as a paladin. 

 

So when no one came up to their carriage to stop them, Asch sagged in relief. 

 

“On to better things, my lady.” His voice was strained, wrecked with emotion and Asch. She took his hand and closed her eyes as the carriage begun to carry them away from home. From Silvermoon.

Chapter 130: Ezrath dabbles 3

Summary:

Original male character/original female character

So hey everyone! I wanna share my first erotic rp story, so to the guy that my dragon oc had some great sex with kudos- but also really fucking funny that right in the middle of it he DC’d and didn’t come back so. That was actually amazing lol

Anyway enjoy!!!

Chapter Text

Dalaran was a far to busy city, Sellius and Asch had found the biggest and most removed apartment they could, but the noise below was still irritating, to both of them. 

 

Moving in was going slowly, Asch couldn’t help much with any of it besides little things, and Sellius wouldn’t allow her to do much. Despite leaving Silvermoon, whispers still followed her in troves. Some said Sellius was the father and how scandalous it was for a noble lady shared her bed with her house manager. Asch endorsed that. The other rumours were she was a whore that got pregnant by a more powerful man and had to escape before he found out. Some said she was exiled out of her family. 

 

Whatever was on peoples mouths she had to once again endure it while out of her house. 

 

Even still as she walked the main paths toward the vendors people looked at her, Asch ignored them, held her head high and breathed as little as possible. The smell of Dalaran was pungent and made her throw up daily. The only thing she could eat was the fresh food the strange tree called Applebough grew. His apples, watermelons and grapes were mostly what she ate the passed five days. 

 

“Hello Asch!” The tree calls, a long a strange bark smile, splitting the wood around his lips “same thing as yesterday?” Asch smiles softly, “and the day before...” 

 

Ezrath had few duties when it came to the Fel Hammer, one of them was collecting bandages from the priests in the Silver enclave and the other was grabbing enough food to last out the week, then he would do it all over again. It was another ordinary day, the sun was beating down in his face and heating his skin, looking around he saw the usual bustle of people- a group of young mages playing with a ball of arcane, girls at the flower stand smelling daisies, Asch, pregnant and standing at the fruit stand inspecting an apple. 

 

Ezrath pauses. Squints. 

 

Asch. 

 

Pregnant.

 

Ezrath’s eyes widen, the fel blazing around his empty sockets, his fingers stab into the linen before completely releasing it, rage peaked in his blood, boiling over as he rushed over. “What the fuck is that?!” His snarls, startling both the tree and Asch, who turns completely white, eyes wide and unseeing “is it mine?!” He can see her throat bob, slowly she staggers back, shaking. Ezrath steps forward each time she steps back, before it became a chase and Ezrath would not let her go “Asch!” She hisses back at her, following her as she waddles away, “Asch!” He shouts, the little elf whirls around, face red and angry “what?!” She shrieks, hand pressed into her open door, “you know what.” His eyes dart toward her stomach before returning to her face “is it mine?!” Asch looks around her, worrying over the people “get in here!” She barks, yanking him into the foyer of her apartment, if it could be called that. There was a grand staircase and a chandler above her main entry. 

 

Ezrath narrowly avoided moving boxes in her entry as she dragged him inside, slamming the door “what is fucking wrong with you?!” She screams, face pinched, but Ezrath snarls “is it mine?!” Asch’s lips twitch, before she sighs loudly and angrily “of course it is!” Ezrath glares “how do you know that?!” Asch looks in disbelief, mouth open and baffled “look at me, you fool!” And Ezrath did, for the first time in a very long time. Asch was thin, sickly so and her skin was pale. Ezrath had seen very few pregnant women, but he knew they did not look like this. 

 

They looked full and healthy, motherly even. 

 

 

This looked deathly. 

 

 

“I can feel this demon spawn pulling the life from me!” She snarls, supporting her back with her hands, huffing in exertion, Ezrath snaps, head pulled back, “that’s not my problem!” Suddenly her face colours, and her little fangs glint as she screams “get out!” 

 

Asch shoved him out, breathing heavily as she leans on the door for support “the father... I take it?” Asch ducks her head under her arm, glaring at Sellius “let me help you with the food,” he says instead, smiling as she huffs at. 

 

Hours went by at a fast pace, Sellius keeping her busy with conversation while they cleaned the fruit/ then gasped drawing Asch’s attention “I forgot to pick up the moving boxes from the postal office.” Asch snorts softly, rubbing an apple under the flow of water “they should be open, I’ll finish washing these.” Sellius begins to wipe his hands “I’ll be less than an hour, be good.” Asch frowns as he laughs. 

 

 

Asch had placed the fruit in a draining basket, eating one of the apples while aimlessly putting things away, she wanted watermelon, but Sellius had put the knives higher than she could reach- apparently not trusting her to use them. Which annoyed her greatly, she was pregnant. Not broken. Asch rolls her eyes, putting books on the shelf as she waited for Sellius to get home, there was a knock and suddenly Asch wondered if he had forgotten his key- likely since he hurried out so fast. 

 

Asch waddles over, “Sellius I’m not helping with the boxes!” She calls, undoing the lock, “oh- I’m sorry!” Beyond the door were two blood elves, mages by the look of their robes. “Hello my lady, may we come in?” Asch stand in the door, shaking her head lightly “no I’d rather- what- stop!” They push inside, friendly aura now gone as she’s shoved back into some boxes, almost falling over. 

 

Asch clutched her stomach in reflex and the two laugh. One shakes his hair, rain water flies everywhere, thunder cracks as they slam the door shut, a defining thud. 

 

Asch stumbles away, hands pressed to her stomach, she could feel the baby kicking badly at the sudden jolting, the pain however was nothing compared to the fear she felt as she hit the door of her balcony, she was trapped against it as the advanced and all she could do was fumble it open and desperately back into the railing.

 

“What- what do you want?!” She cries, rain pelting her face, watching the two advance “we know.” One says, smiling smugly, dangerously “that demon hunter was loud-“ he laughs “you’ll have to do something for us so we don’t tell your little secret.” The other supplies, rounding behind his friend, Asch scowls, watching them get closer “what?!” She snarls, despite knowing she shouldn’t. They laugh at her, “if she bent over for demon scum- I bet she’ll love doing it for us- don’t you think?” Asch flinches as one gets closer, roughing and rudely grabbing her breast, Asch pushes at him. 

 

“Get off!” The thunder booms and suddenly, a deadly a flash of steel rings out and the one touching her jolts, his eyes grow dull and he falls, blood spurting out. Asch crawls back, staring at the scene before her, heart pounding in her ears, a black figure lands, wings stretching out in front of her, then was a short, pained yell and the other blood elf collapsed. There was a sizzling sound and Asch watches rain water touch blazing tattoos and instantly she knew who it was. 

 

Asch watches him lean over and wipe his blade clean, pulling the other from the body, Asch scrambles up the best she can, supporting herself on the wet bannister, she can’t help herself “why?!” Ezrath whirls around, eyeing her with some strange emotion, in one motion, he grabs her, pulling her into his embrace and kissing her deeply, “no one can know.” He hisses, darkly and like rolling thunder. Before she can ask anything else in a great show of strength, he leaps from the balcony with the use of his wing, and Asch cannot follow his shadow as he disappears into the darkness.

Chapter 131: Volbin dabbles 5

Summary:

Volbin Swiftmoon/Asch Cinnis
Original male night elf/original female night elf

Enjoy!

Chapter Text

“Your excuse of a daughter is an idiot whore!” Seethe belts, absolutely enraged. Across from him, sitting in a grand lush chair, is lord Regulous Cinnis. Regulous glances over, briefly sizing up the furious Seethe before rolling his eyes back toward his letters. “What has she done now?” Lord Cinnis was already bored of this man, Seethe came to him expecting a fix to every problem he had, as if marrying his daughter allowed him the privilege of it.

 

Regulous squints, maybe the fool truly believed he attained the right. 

 

“She slights me with her sweetens words. Thinking she can sway me-“ “your inability to control my daughter isn’t of my concern” Regulous interrupts, growing more annoyed by the minute. “You let her run off, lest you forget, you little fool.” Seethe snarls at this, but Regulous ignores him, “your fool guards allowed it!” Regulous dips his quill into the ink, eyeing the other before continuing his writing “is that all?” He sighs, hardly paying attention to how Seethe vibrates in anger, until he swipes his letters off the desk in a great show of rage. 

 

“You are trying my patience.” Regulous says slowly, powerfully. Seethe flinches, eyes wide like a child, “you... you give me- you give me a used whore and expect me to not rage?” Seethe says in a more measured tone, Regulous eyes him above the parchment, narrowed and searching for a moment “you paid for the privilege of marrying into my family. Not for her innocence. If she has been spoiled it is of no interest to me.” Regulous places the letter down, leaning toward Seethe, “is that all?” 

 

 

Volbin stands watching Asch not even five feet away, he watches the maids pin up he hair in styles to determine the prettiest way to decorate her hair for the wedding while two other women squeezed her into a dress that was blinding white. There was another girl in the room as well, a lords daughter who was blathering on to Asch.

 

“Oh isn’t he handsome?!” She says, cooing “you are truly so lucky to have Lord Seethe’s attention.” Asch’s smile is forced and liked awful on her face as she nods, agreeing without a word to the girl. “Aren’t you excited to be married? How many babies do you want to give him?!” Volbin feels his lip twitch in irritation, Asch were her lips, smiling uneasily “as many as he wants.” Her voice was soft, distant. The girl doesn’t seem to notice and squeals, a putrid noise “oh- lucky!” She says, before flopping into the sofa close by, fiddling her dress “it hurts, you know- I’ve heard.” Volbin watches the girls face colour pink “it’s suppose too- but I’m sure Seethe will be gentle as he always is!” Asch smiles, but there is no life behind her eyes as she does “he is noble and kind, of course.” 

 

The girl was about to begin speaking again before the door close to Volbin clapped open and from it, an imposing man came through, face as handsome as if the gods carved it from marble and eyes a hard and determine as stone. “Lord Cinnis!” The girl says in surprise, curtsying quickly.

 

“Get out.”  His voice was dark, rich. It held command without much effort and the girl scurried quickly out of the room, horrified as the servants stood still “My lord?” One of the seamstresses mutters, not daring to look up from her feet. Lord Cinnis glances toward her, then a simple wave of his hand “continue.” 

 

 

Volbin searches Asch’s face, watching it pale considerably, ears pressed flat to her head in terror and even he could see her tremble as lord Cinnis steps into her sightline with deliberate, large steps that were lighter than the mans presence ever could be.  

 

“Your mother never loved me,” he begins, voice leveled and powerful, it demands attention without trying, “but she did her duty.” His hand reaches toward her face and Asch does not move as his fingers press into her jaw, almost cradling her face. “She was dignified and provided four sons” his eyes narrow slightly “and a daughter. One who seems to have forgotten her place.” 

 

Asch visibly shakes in his grasp, eyes filling with tears “because of you I’ve had to listen to that fool prattle on about you’ve bled on another mans cock.” Tears roll off her cheeks and down his fingers, but neither of them move to do anything about it. “What have you always been told?” Asch’s mouth pulls open, and a soft sad sound comes from her lips, but her father waits, eyes dark and patient. 

 

“Legacy i-is everything...” his hand falls from her face and his fingers drip with her tears, “legacy.” He repeats, satisfied with her answer, “your mother produced my heirs with poise. You will provide lord Fel’yn a son and if anything but his child-“ he pauses, glancing up and down at his daughter, face without emotion “-comes from you, I will slit it’s throat without hesitation.” Asch nods frantically, eyes never daring to look upon his face “you have been an embarrassment.” Again, she nods without saying a word in protest “y-yes lord f-father-“ he regards her a moment, blinking slowly “see this corrected.” He says before swiftly exiting her rooms, all the servants follow behind him, exacept for Volbin. 

 

Asch crumbles to the floor, hands covering her eyes as she bawls, forgetting she wasn’t alone.

 

In one motion Volbin rushes over to Asch, dropping the plates from his hands, swooping her into his embrace tightly. Volbin cradles her face into his shoulder, letting cry into his clothes, the soft sound of her cries make his head ache with unrecognizable pain. “Shh-“ He mutters, close to her ear as his other hand holds her back, pressing on her to force her closer. 

 

 

Volbin can feel her fists clasp onto his chest,  and tremble in terror, “I’m here” he says softly, Asch wails into his shoulder, shuttering out all the breath in her body, tears leaking out of her eyes as Volbin coos softly in her ear, petting her back with warm, large strokes. Asch sniffles, the shaking beginning to dull away as Volbin eases her off, letting her sit on the floor in front of him, dress a pile of snow. 

 

A smile comes to his face as his finger tips toug the silk, “you shouldn’t cry,” he says, “you’ll ruin your dress.” Asch smiles, the barest hint of laugher escapes her throat, Volbin’s breath hitches as their eyes lock together, without thought he falls forward, lips pressing into hers in a crash of effort. Volbin can taste the salt of her tears, the hands now clutching at his forearms. Volbin can feel her try and pull him closer, the tremble in her fingers and the smell of the flowers. Volbin groans softly, hands reaching for her again, but they fall short and his lips part from hers and Volbin snaps from his daze. 

 

Asch had pushed herself away, eyes wide and scared, hand clamped over her mouth in the sudden realization “I- I can’t-“ she yelps, suddenly scurrying upward, Volbin blinks, “out!” She cries, terrified “please get out!” Volbin opens his mouth, shocked “I- I’m sorry-“ the words spills from his mouth as he scrambles, “I didn’t- I-“ he tries to say something, but his mind is a mess a Asch pushes him toward the door, and Volbin let’s her, he allows himself to be pushed until out of the room, but he’s stil surprised when the door slams in his face, not another word able to escape his throat as he stares at it, heart long and lost. 

 

Asch gasps softly, horror filling her mind as she still felt his lips upon her and how desperately she missed them already. 

 

 

Chapter 132: Ezrath dabbles 4

Summary:

Original demon hunter/Original blood elf female
300 kudos!!! Thanks so much you all mean the world to me!

Chapter Text

Asch did not feel well, again. Sellius was fretting over her, worried that she was throwing up more than she could keep down, that a visit to a priest was in order, but like always, she refused.

 

Moving was a chore, she was too heavy and her feet hurt. They had become twice the size she remembered- at least when she could see them. And her stomach made her tip over from the imbalance, as well there were yellowish bruises on the underside where the baby kicked, Sellius was scared for her, it wasn’t natural they both knew, but neither was the father. 

 

Ezrath. Asch knew little of the father of her unborn baby, not his last name and often forgot his first. 

 

Still, she toyed with the image of him, remembering faint details, such as the colour of his skin and shade of his hair. Sellius was surprised the day he burst into her home, but hardly said a word of it besides the single passing comment, “he is quite rugged.” Asch’s mind would not let her free of him. 

 

 

Apart of her loathed to admit she missed him.

 

 

“Shall we unpack the study today, my lady?” Sellius muses, looking over the paper, idly skimming the articles with little interest, Asch huffs loudly, pulling her feet onto the coffee table in front of her, she would sit while Sellius unpack the study “you mean accompany you?” He laughs at the jab, smiling very fondly at her, despite her glare. “Why yes exactly, my lady.” His laugh was rich, and always welcome to her ears. “Those books are heavy you know...” he trails off, “I wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself- or your son.” Asch feels a pit in her stomach open at his words, but takes them without a complaint, smiling tensely. 

 

“I’m worried,” he mutters, “women don’t carry to term very often- you know this.” Yes Asch did. While it was easy to get pregnant, it was very difficult to carry a baby to full term without their being complications, Sellius had no doubt that her son would be premature and was on edge awaiting the day he would arrive. Asch pets the top of her belly, thinking not for the first time that Sellius would be more excited about her own baby then she was- then again Sellius loves babies where she... wasn’t sure. 

 

Asch had not noticed him placing his paper on the table next to his chair, but she snapped out of her mind when he cleared his throat “I think I shall... unpack the study now... and leave the two of you alone.” Asch frowned deeply, about to speak until sellius’ eyes shifted toward the balcony. Asch follows his gaze, suddenly full of rage as she sees Ezrath, standing there. 

 

 

His eyes- or what was left of them were looking already at her and didn’t seem to waver when Sellius had cut in front of them, hurrying away to the study behind the staircase, far from the sitting room. Ezrath breaks his gaze, eyeing the room before entering it, careful about where he stepped and very light footed at she walked to her. Asch feels her annoyance spike as he sits close to her, watching as he looks over her, face unreadable. 

 

“We need to talk.” He says, voice honey thick and just as smooth. Asch hates the feeling in her chest as looks at her face finally, eyes surprisingly gentle. “Then talk.” She bites back, despite not meaning to she turns to him, captivated without a cause and hates it so much. 

 

“It’s mine.” Ezrath says, stating what they already knew. “I should be here.” Asch scowls deeply, feeling the lines crease on her face as he speaks, “I should... be with you.” He mutters, strained. Asch does not like the feeling that bubbles over in her stomach, or the urge she has to suddenly touch him. Ezrath looks equally uncomfortable at least, his hands caught in fists, dangling between his open thighs as his elbows dig into his knees. 

 

 

Asch wasn’t sure what to say to him, whether she should let him was never a question she thought needed to be answered. Did she want him around? How often would he be here? Would people notice? 

 

Asch did not like the answers she came up with, but couldn’t deny him the most basic right he had as a father; to see his baby.

 

“It’s a boy,” she blurts, without really understanding herself why she said it. Ezrath looked shocked for the moment, eyes flickering between her face and belly. Instead of waiting for him to come up with something, she starts again, “you can’t come here like this-“ she hisses, stopping herself, shaking her head “I mean. During the day.” Ezrath breathes deeply, chest cresting in effort and Asch finds herself watching the motion “when the sun begins to set.” Ezrath simply nods, comfortable with the idea despite the tense appearance. 

 

 

Asch wasn’t sure what else could be said, and once Ezrath came to the same conclusion he glances back at the balcony, nodding curtly before beginning to leave. What possessed her in that moment, Asch didn’t know, but she heard herself yelp the word, “wait!” Before she could stop herself. Ezrath pauses, turning his head to look at her. Asch swallows, unsure of what to say. 

 

“I...” she mutters, “I can’t get up-“ she feels her face grow pink, warm with embarrassment as he blinks at her, a curious and almost endearing look on his face “I-I can’t- with...” she watches him come to her, sputtering as his hands extend toward her. Asch takes them, watching his muscles strain from the pressure as he pulls her effortlessly. Asch feels his flat, hard stomach press into her and remembers just how close  she could get to him, Ezrath must have as well because his eyes dart away and he steps back, before he leaves altogether in a hurry. 

 

 

Asch’s mind had been absent since the moment he left, idle in everything and Sellius had noticed but didn’t say anything to inquire. In fact he did not bother to converse with her as they washed the food together, he did not think it wise to draw her from her train of thought- despite his curiosity. When he had, the very few times, she had snapped at him, Sellius wouldn’t dare ask if her mood was affected by the demon hunters visit, knowing it very well could be. 

 

In reality Asch had felt empty, longing. If she was crass the word for it was aroused. Asch bites her lip, huffing almost silently as her stomach stirs. Asch presses her thighs together, wishing it would help. Not for the first or last time she curses that demon hunter, furious that she could do nothing to quell the ache between her legs. Outwardly her mood had only blackened, Sellius had fixed their food and quietly secluded himself to the sitting room, avoiding her without going to far. 

 

Asch had begrudgingly chocked her food down, fuming at the thought of the demon hunter making her feel this way after so long. Asch thought she had been done away with these feelings after the first trimester had ended, at least than she could reach. Now she could do seldom little. 

 

Asch leans onto her hands, belly pressed into the counter as she sees her face in the window, it was impossibly dark out and she could see the clear expression in her face, one of pure misery, ruddy with colour and puffy. Asch glares at her expression, but it loses edge. 

 

Sellius had begun to wonder if he should ask her what exactly happened today, but as he sat in the sitting room, wringing his hands he figured better of it, he didn’t like it when she yelled and she would certainly start if he allowed the option. Sellius didn’t want to leave her awake like this, knowing it would only serve to trouble her, but couldn’t find a solution to her ire- that is, until the softest sound of feet and nails clicked against the floor of the balcony, Sellius peers over and see the hunter looking at him, expression blank. Quickly he opens the glass doors, the hunter stalks inside, looking around the room. 

 

“She’s in the kitchen, my lord.” He whispers, hurried “she’s very upset.” Ezrath looks at him oddly, brow furrowed “what?” He does not whisper, but his voice is soft and it does not carry passed the entrance. “My lady has been very... moody since you left last.” Sellius says, easing the doors closed. The hunter huffs, “through there...” Sellius practically shooed him out, leaving to his room before he could be caught in the mess. Small parts of him felt terrible, like leaving a child to wolves, but Sellius figured he could endure it. 

 

 

Asch rubs her thighs together, biting her lip to suppress a wail of frustration.

 

“Asch.” Asch spins, her face must have been surprising because his eyes bulge at the sight of her, there was a hint of absolute fear “why are you here?!” She almost screams, both from exasperation and overall pain. “You... said too...?” He answers, Asch growls at him, irritation raising. Ezrath leans in the door, crossing his arms “why are you upset?” The sound of his voice makes it feel like asking was a chore and Asch, whatever she had been feeling, amplified to unmanageable “don’t ask if you don’t care!” She snarls at him. Ezrath somehow makes the motion of rolling his eyes- despite having none. 

 

“I don’t have time for this.” He curtly bites, pushing off the doorframe to leave, Asch hesitates “I- I want you-!” Ezrath pauses, and humiliation sinks under her skin as he regards her, “how?” He almost sounds puzzled, like what she was asking didn’t have an obvious answer. Asch screams quietly, swiftly moving toward him as Ezrath just watches, waiting to see and is shocked when she pulls him by the belt and yanks him to her. “I want you.” She says flatly, face red but eyes still sharp. Ezrath eases away, eyeing her stomach with caution, and for the first time, placing his hand upon it. 

 

Asch doesn’t acknowledge it, rather moves onto her tiptoes and kisses his throat, Ezrath shakes his head, fully stepping away from her reach. Asch tries to follow, but he holds her at bay, watching confusion spread over her face “I can’t.” He mutters, keeping her at arms length. “You’re... I can’t.” Ezrath could see she wasn’t healthy, her eyes were dull and tired, she was smaller than any pregnant women he had seen before, but it was better than when he first saw her, her face had filled out considerably as well as the rest of her, but still. 

 

In that moment her face had twisted, absolute rage and mortification enveloped her and suddenly she was shoving him away, face filling with tears and betrayal “get out!” She screams, voice a mixture of shrill and loss. “Get out! Get out!” Instead of waiting for him to leave she shoves passed him, frantically escaping as she cries. Ezrath has no choice but to watch her, sagged against the counter of her kitchen before the inevitable slam from her door arouses him into leaving, again. 

 

 

Asch had never felt more putrid in her life. Lor’themar had called her beautiful when he saw her before they left, Sellius said she was glowing- but no matter the amount of honey words that come from those around her, none of them compared to his. Asch digs her nails into the palm of her hands, Ezrath. 

 

Asch should have known- should not have excepted anything but his disgust, a desperately small part of her thought he would find her alluring, because it was his baby and- Asch felt stupid. There was a wretched hole inside of her that swallowed up everything but her despair as she looked at herself in the mirror, remembering how pretty she once was, how lovely and angled her face had been. What looked back at her was nothing short of disgraceful. 

 

Asch sunk into the plush of her bed and wailed into her hands, embarrassed, humiliated and angry. She had hardly cried as a girl, not when her mother died or her father. Not when his body was brought to her door or the day she buried him. Now she couldn’t stop crying, almost everyday- oddly it felt as though her pregnancy wasn’t the cause and that is what concerned her most of all. Asch fell to her side and cried into the pillows, staring at nothing as she wallowed in her misery, falling asleep with a wet face and a weighed heart. 

 

Ezrath idled on her balcony, staring at the low light of the candles. Sellius wasn’t anywhere to be found, but he tried knocking on the glass anyway. Sellius must have been awake because his head poked through the door, shocked to see Ezrath before hurrying to open the door. “I thought you left long ago, my lord?” Ezrath shrugs, “I did.” Sellius frowns at his answer, but saying nothing in return, so Ezrath adds “I decided to return.” Sellius hums gently, beginning to blow out the candles scattered along the room “will you be staying the night?” Ezrath walks with the elf, watching his ears twitch in interest “if she’ll have me.” Sellius smiles gently, stopping in front of a door deep in the house “I’m sure she’ll do with your company.” Without meaning too, Ezrath caught his words and thought terrible of himself. Asch could have done with his company hours ago but he had turned from her. 

 

 

“Goodnight, my lord” Sellius says, leaving him in the hall. Ezrath sighs, pulling his belt free and palming it in his hand before pushing the door open. Her room was modest as he first noticed, likely not the room she was meant to sleep in, but the one she had too for now. Her bed however was elegant, far to large for her. Ezrath sees her, curled in on herself. Quietly he walks to her, somehow she looked delicate, a word he never thought described her in the slightest. Ezrath eases down, rubbing his hand through the bed until it reaches her belly, pressing his hand directly onto the hidden flesh. Ezrath felt the soft inside of her, but it was a gentle motion, one that made his mouth twitch in a smile. 

 

 

Asch moans softly, eyes blinking awake as she turns, Ezrath says nothing as she jolts to his presence, face sour “get away-!” She chocked out, suddenly in a fit. Ezrath reaches for her, holding her still “stop.” He mutters, thumb caressing the tears from her face as the begin to fall. “Haven’t- haven’t you done enough?!” She snarls, pushing herself up and away with difficulty. “No.” He says, smirking at his own joke, one she did not find funny. Sighing he runs a hand over his face, “I didn’t mean... what was said earlier.” He says, hoping she would listen to him. “You hate the sight of me.” She hisses, wiping her eyes. Ezrath swallows, pained by her words “I don’t.” He argues, shaking his head, leaning into the bed “I don’t want to hurt you.” 

 

 

Her face screws at his words “no one wants to hurt me.” The words spit from her mouth, “I’m more delicate than glass- all men are fools!” Ezrath looks at her “you are.” Her words mocking but he agreed with them. “Did you want to lose him?” Asch looks away, weighting his words as one of her hands brush along her stomach, passing over his fingers without acknowledging them. Ezrath watches her face, how lost in thought she was. 

 

Ezrath presses his lips together, she was truly beautiful, and she oddly reminded him of a caged bird, one that was never meant to be one, but forced by circumstance. 

 

“You are very...” Ezrath’s throat bobs as he watches her hair fall over her shoulder “beautiful.” He finishes, as he speaks he moves, coming to sit close to her, hand cradling her stomach “what will you have of me-“ “stop talking,” Asch shutters, passion on her voice as she moves to him. Ezrath meets her, kissing her fiercely, but with gentle care.  

 

Asch pulls her dress from her legs, shifting on her knees to climb into his lap, Ezrath helps her, not breaking his mouth from hers. Asch gasps against his lips, groping his arms, playing with the muscles “am I?” She says hotly, face coloured in pleasure “beautiful?” Ezrath fists her dress, the silk felt nice against his skin “every letter of the word,” Ezrath whispers, watching her intake noisely. 

 

Ezrath feels her hands press against his chest and push, curious he lets her push him all the way back into her furs, it felt delightful against his back, never knowing- or truly not remembering what softness felt like. Above him soft, plush thighs spread, though he cannot see it. Ezrath sighs warmly as she straddles him, but her face grew frustrated and she huffs in effort “I can’t- reach your-“ Ezrath smirks, chuckling. Asch glares at him as he reaches under her dress, pulling the fluffed fabric away, squeezing her thigh before unlacing his pants, pulling his cock from its confines. 

 

Asch’s legs shake under her as his cock brushes between her lips, Asch bares down on the head of his cock, Ezrath tries to sit up, but her finger tips strain to keep him down “you aren’t ready-“ his words were bitten off by a groan as she presses down, taking his cock without pain or trouble “I- ah- am...” she doesn’t stop until she’s fully seated, whimpering at the feeling as he struggles to sit still. 

 

Her cunt was warm and wet, tight as he remembered but far more welcoming this time. Ezrath feels her cunt flutter, he chocks slightly at the sudden feeling of her squeezing him desperately, Asch shakes above him, eyes screwed shut. Ezrath watches her bask in pleasure, shocked and aroused all at once as he realizes that she had cum just by sitting in his cock. 

 

 

“Oh-“ she gasps, as he gently rolls his hips, feeling her wetness ooze between her legs and into his balls. “Asch.” He calls to her, hands clawing at her dress, kneading her thighs “let- let me...?” His breath was coming in pants, Asch struggles to answer, so she simply nods and Ezrath with quick but gentle movements has Asch on her back, cock still as deep as it could be. 

 

Asch’s face was flushed and her hair spread over the pillows, she looked far more comfortable this way then atop him. Despite liking how familiar it was, it would be cruel to keep her like that, knowing how heavy she must feel. The weight was nothing to him, he could easily lift her on his cock for as long as she would have him. But seeing Asch on her back set something off inside of him, though he wished he could be closer. 

 

The backs of her thighs rest on the front of his legs, wrapped loosely around his hips. In this position however she could do little and her frustration showed on her face and the mute, brief wiggling she gave in return. Ezrath bears into her before beginning a slow, deliberate pace, breath shuttering from his chest as their hips meet. Noises stem from her mouth wantonly, head thrown back and digging into the pillow as her fists yank the bedding below. 

 

Ezrath runs his hands over her sides, thumbs grazing along the edges of her stomach, Asch catches his hands, pulling them into her with desperation, threading hers between his, the softest noise “Ezrath...” escaping her lips. Something fills out in his chest, a burning warm feeling, an affection that spreads through his whole body as she moans his name again without pause. Ezrath squeezes her fingers, swallowing harshly as her cunt threatens to lock him in place as she comes undone again, until a soft snore hit his ears. Glancing down Ezrath saw Asch's soft face stretching with her snores, letting a smile break his own face as he slowed, then stopped. "Good night," he whispered, pulling out of her and lying down beside her. After a moment's thought he brought his hand to his cock and started finishing himself off.

 

Chapter 133: Volbin dabbles 6

Summary:

Volbin Swiftmoon/Asch Cinnis
Original male nightelf/original female nightelf

Chapter Text

As a beautiful woman had been staring bereft of emotion, a gentle sorrow caught her eyes as they blinked back, she women barely watches the hands work in her hair to pin it in place, watching them get frustrated by the wilted dead flowers falling from the very cavities of her hair. 

 

Asch sighs softly at the woman who looks back at her, the beautiful face twisted in pain as she was, the stranger of herself shared her lack of enthusiasm. Beside her, carefully hung was the drapes of her house, it was black, a void without colour- save the punctured wound that spat blood and shaped like the moon. Asch had seen that family crest all her life, but never once thought it resembled a moon. 

 

The moon was pearly, beautiful, something Asch wished she could hold in her hand and feel. 

 

Father had crafted their world from little, but Asch had only heard faint whispers of the wars, the little she knew was he had shed so much blood that the moon itself had tainted under his presence. Asch supposed it was only fitting, but she shrunk a little as her maids pulled it over her shoulders and secured it. Despite its meaning the heavy fabric felt safe, grounding her almost as she stood on shaky legs. 

 

Everything was heavy, almost suffocatingly so, her dress made from spun silk was adored with gold, a fortunate wrapped around her every curve in beautiful rolled ropes. Jewels littered her chest in patterns of brilliant white, red, blue and green. There was a crown woven into her hair, it was the heaviest of her accessories, thick poured gold shaped like a half moon, this had beautiful diamonds, some bigger than her eyes, others too little to see, but crushing all the same.

 

Asch know that it was to apase her husband, father had been furious with her because he had threatened to break the engagement off and the trinkets and jewels were payment for his silence. Asch knew her innocence was a question no one could answer now and Lord Fel’yn had been angry that it had been taken from him, despite her knowing the truth that did not believe her. 

 

Asch brushes her fingers over the jewels incrusted along her gown and sighs delicately, in misery of her own making. Her father and she at least shared the same fear- again of her making- that once she was pregnant that he may say it is not his and there would be no way to prove it false and she would be sent home to her father and beg forgiveness. 

 

Asch had always been told a baby would keep her safe, mother had told her this an age passed, she remembers the words, cruel as they may be, mother always said it softly. “Whoever your husband, if you hate or love him, you will love his babies.” Asch recalls her gentle hands in her hair, weaving a braid into it as she spoke. “It is expected, little flower,” she nods to her own words, “you must give him a son, so no one may deny your place.” Mother had spat those words, hatred for something she did not understand. Now she had, but now it was far too late. 

 

Asch does not think a child will keep her safe any longer.

 

“My lady it is time.” Asch straightens herself, standing as tall as she could, leaving with her dress trailing behind her like waves jostling in the ocean. 

 

 

Volbin sighs quietly, pulling straw stiff white hair into place, keeping his eyes on his task as Seethe stands proudly, prim and pompous, flouncing like a peacock “Seethe?” A voice calls, opening the door without leave and another elf walks in, smirking at Seethe “Telryn- my friend, come in.” The other was already shutting the door “is this finally the day?” Seethe sneers, chuckling “hopefully- so long as that mewling cunt does as she’s told.” Volbin jolts, the pin in his hand pricking Seethe, who yelps “idiot! Be careful or I will take your hands!” Volbin nods meekly, biting his lip harshly so he could stop himself from lashing out. 

 

“I hear speak of her cunt,” Telryn says, grandly “the speak of it used and full of another mans seed.” Volbin watches Seethe scowl “do they?” Telryn nods, musing over the fruits in the table “they do.” Seethe scoffs, unamused by his words “if true I’ll make her bleed and do away with her baseborn bastard and fill her with a proper child before she’s finished birthing the first.” Telryn laughs, nodding as he eats grapes from the table “and if she isn’t spoiled?” Seethe rolls his eyes, “women lie as easily as they draw breath, if her fucking tree elf father would have me believe she’s pure then he is a fool.” Seethe brushes the front of his robes, idly sticking his nose up as she speaks “I will fuck the rebellion out of her until she’s bruised and begging her new lord for mercy.” 

 

Telryn smirks, head tilted “do tell me how pretty it is.” Seethe smirks madly, “maybe I’ll let you watch me fuck it.” Telryn coos in interest “how gracious my lord.” They laugh together and Volbin’s fingers slip again, Seethe hisses, batting his hands away “get out- you idiot!” 

 

Volbin nods frantically, swallowing as he hurries out, hearing them laugh uproariously as he begins to feel sick. 

 

 

Asch stands with her flowers clutched in her hands, awaiting the doors to open while her maids fret over her veil and pull the train of her dress, holding the heavy fabric in their hands. Asch bites her cheek, willing herself not to cry as the door ease open. A harp plays as she walks, she can see her father staring at her, no approval or any emotion in his eyes. Asch looks away, toward her feet not daring to look over toward her soon-to-be-husband. 

 

Asch stops in front of them all, her maid drop the train and her father comes to her side, “who gives this woman?” The priest begins, “I do. Regulous Asterious Cinnis, first of my name, lord of Suramar, keeper of Spellblades.” The priest bows toward her father, “who accepts this woman?” Seethe clears his throat, “I do. Seethe Fel’yn.” There was a detestful tone in his voice as he spoke, having no titles like her father. 

 

“Cloak the bride in your sigil.” Seethe did not remove the cloak of her father’s house as he draped his. Asch wanted to sag under the absolute weight of it all, but she stood stiffly, feigning pride and dignity as her father watched her with scrutiny. “Bring your hands together so that I may bind you both as one-“ “stop!” Asch and all those around her whirl around, in the middle of the aisle Volbin is there. 

 

A soft gasp escapes Asch’s lips as she sees Volbin there. “The wedding is off,” Volbin states, staring Siethe down. With that, Siethe throws his head back and howls in laughter, before pushing through his laughter, “A servant- a servant has decided to call my wedding off! My own wedding! And why is that?” 

“I challenge you to a duel for her,” Volbin utters, only for his words to be broken once more by Siethe’s laughter. “I refuse! You’re less than dirt and barely worth my words!”

“Well that’s too bad,” Volbin casually remarked, “I assumed you had even a sliver of honor left, but I can see now why Asch ran away with me the first time. The man she was to be wed to is an honorless shrew, and even a savage such as myself is a more attractive option.” At this both Regulous’ and Siethe’s eyes squint at him, until Siethe breaks the stillness first. “How.. dare you.. you insignificant.. gnat!” Siethe spits out through clenched teeth. “You wish to duel me? Then you’ll get your last wish. You there!” he yells to one of the guards, “Give the.. man.. your pike so that he has a ‘sporting’ chance.” Siethe grins wickedly at Volbin, “Since it’s your challenge, you may pick the place of battle.” Volbin smiles back solemnly before speaking slowly, “This aisle works fine, I don’t intend on making a mess.”

 

Siethe’s eyebrow arches dangerously before he speaks, “Priest! Commence this duel.” The old nightborne that stands there gulps nervously before beginning, “This is highly unorthodox, but.. combatants sheathe your weapons and turn away from each other.” Volbin’s last glimpse of Siethe was of him smirking dangerously before he was put behind him. “You may begin the duel in three, two, on-“ Siethe whirled around, before emptying his arcane reserves into a powerful barrage directly into Volbin’s back, sending him flying back until he thudded dully into a column. Asch gasps loudly as Siethe cackles, brushing his hands off. “Now where were we?” Siethe chuckles. “I believe,” a voice rings out as Siethe turns, “We were dueling,” Volbin stands from where he had been crumpled, brushing himself off and readying his pike. “Wha-,” Siethe begins, face paling, “How- That should have-“

 

“Should have, maybe, but didn’t,” Volbin spits out before advancing. Siethe begins backpedaling away, firing missile after missile of pure arcane energy, only for Volbin to deflect them as he expertly twirled the pike. “Why- why aren’t- you- dying!” Siethe frantically shrieks as he finds his back to the wall while Volbin gets closer. Siethe fires another large missile, darting to the left, only for it to get deflected back to where he had just stood. Suddenly Volbin lunged, darting past another erratic missile before sinking his pike into the wall, straight through Siethe. Siethe’s hands scrabbled at the handle as he sunk back gaping, “How?” he rasped, staring frightened into Volbin’s eyes. “No!” Telryn yelled, jumping to his feet as the room dissolved into panic. Volbin draws an unstable portal shard from his pouch, throwing it at Asch’s feet as he dashes over. A wild portal opens directly under Asch, swirling and already decreasing in size. She lets out a wild shriek as she falls through, disappearing from the room. Just before Volbin dives in he feels a cold presence on the back of his neck, and turning, sees Regulous still staring at him, the only spot of calmness in the raging room. Volbin shudders to the feeling, and seeing the portal already a quarter of its size, dives through.

 

Chapter 134: Volbin dabbles 7

Summary:

Volbin Swiftmoon/Asch Swiftmoon
Original male nightelf/original female nightelf

Sorry to have gone so long! I’ve been a bit busy with exams!

Enjoy!

Chapter Text

Asch panicked outright as she fell, albeit softly, but she was scared, clutching her drapes and frantically looking around at everyone who was gawking at her. “A pretty bird has fallen out of the sky it seems,” a man, peach in colour and strange looking says to her, eyes wide but not unkind. 

 

“I-“ she begins, but does not know what to say, “covered in riches no less it seems” he chuckles, a certain look about his face Asch could neither as place evil or well intended. Suddenly the potral that spat her out produced another, Volbin falls from the mouth of it, toppling the peach man over, Asch heard him yelp as they crash together in the stone, Volbin jumps up, groaning and rubbing his head. The man stumbles up, face pinched and red “terribly sorry,” Volbin says in a rush, not truly caring as he begins to gather Asch. 

 

Asch feels practically weightless as he lifts her, feeling his large hands in her ribs, gentle as she never felt before. Asch regains herself quickly, appearing ever proper despite how much her shoulders begun to strain and feet ache. Volbin’s hands linger as he peers over her, trying to determine if the fall had hurt or maybe something else Asch could not tell. 

 

With her heels on she was almost as tall as he was, Asch liked that their noses barely touched now, Volbin quickly turns his face away, letting her go in all the same motion. Asch wanted to cripple under the stress, Volbin didn’t get much time to compose fully and promptly pulling her along by the wrist. Asch doesn’t know where he is taking her, Asch hardly knew where they were in the first place.

 

The noise, the lights and the people were all strange and Asch could only wilt at it all as he weaved through people, suddenly stopping, but Asch didn’t not allow herself to stumble. Volbin turns to look at her again, examining something upon her face before nodding curtly to himself. Asch blinks up at him as he looked toward the bell of her dress, and without prompt scoops her up into his arms “you look exhausted,” he tells her, voice soft to her ringing ears “have you even eaten?” Asch clings to him, toes almost threatening to fall from her shoes, she shakes her head silently, head throbbing and stomach empty. 

 

Appterenly this had already been his assumption and Volbin swiftly begins to move now, finding her state somehow not cumbersome as he carried her effortlessly. Asch felt very improper as he walked with her, embarrassment had begun to settle in as Asch wondered just what her mother would think of all this. Mother would not be pleased of what she had done in the first place, Asch knew she should not have run as she had the first time, with a man no less. 

 

Asch hadn’t intended for all this to happen- but then she didn’t know what she really thought at first. She just knew that Seithe was terribly unkind and she was scared, she had forgotten her manners and how to behave and once again, she was doing it again. Except now Volbin had killed her fiancé and her father was more furious than before. Mother would be mortified, a lady should never act like a fool, she heard in her mind. Asch had been a fool and she could stomach such a thing no longer. 

 

Now she was laying in a bed of her own making, one that was rooted with embarrassment and rumours. People must have begun to talk, that was all they did in Suramar, Asch didn’t like it, but it was custom. Now they must be talking about her, what’s worse they must have been talking about father. He did not like appreciate foolishness, the opinions of the people and always told her brothers never to allow their family to become gossip for the unimportance, Asch was given different lessons then her elder brothers, one with a very different tune, but all the same she had figured. 

 

Mother had taught her to be proper before she left this world and then her teachers taught her to please, taught what was expected of a noble lady of such standing. Asch would endure her husbands affections and adore his children, and keep his house in order. Asch had seen children born into the world, she had helped deliver some of them. Her father had called it a hobby of hers, her teachers said it was good practice for what to expect for herself. Mother did the same once, but she had long given it up once she was married to father. 

 

Mother was a quiet, stern lady and Asch had been told stories of her propriety. Mother married father very young, she was half his age and bore him Dyon while father was away in war. Long after she gave him twins, her brothers Tytos and Tyr, later Azor came and shortly thereafter Asch. Father doted on his sons and provided them a grand path while Asch was never an interest to him. 

 

Asch had never met Dyon once in her life, father loved him very much and was so proud of everything his eldest was. Tytos and Tyr has returned home a few times, to meet with their father for things Asch was not privy to know and Azor was Asch’s greatest friend. While very much like father, he cared for his little sister, taught her things she wasn’t allowed to know and upset father but he was his son and father was not cruel. 

 

After Azor had left, the house had become cold and lonely, father barely spoke to her and when he did it was to tell her how irritating it was to find her a suitable match. It was mother’s duty to do such a thing and that is why it had been an age before he found someone to marry her off too. Asch was not displeased with this outcome, she had been scared as a girl when they told her mother had been younger than her when she was given to father. 

 

Her father’s negligence in this regard allowed her to experience a little of life, form her craft as a Druid and truly come to terms with what she had been told. 

 

Volbin for all Asch knew about him was kind, sombrely gentle. Asch knew he was not a noblemen, for she had never seen him once, heard his name spoken and Asch was taught all about the houses and their families. Volbin was a commoner, someone of no importance but Asch had seen more than she was taught too. Mother would call him a savage, a low born dog that was not worthy of her presence. 

 

Volbin was not someone she was accustomed too, in fact he was very different to any man she had met in her life. His hands were rough, calloused and beaten. Proper men did not have scars like he did, but Asch was embarrassed to admit she liked them. His nose was pointed and handsome, it framed the rest of his face from his hard jaw to his beautiful sunny eyes.  Volbin’s brow was furrowed, the sea green colour matched his soft blue skin. 

 

Volbin looked like a noblemen, there was nothing to say he wasn’t but for his name. 

 

 

Volbin jolts her out of her thoughts when he places her down, Asch looks around, she could not take everything in before Volbin is directing her through the wooden door. Asch feels his hands on her arms, half his body pressed into her. Volbin didn’t make her walk far and he pulled the chair from under the table and lets her sit before seating himself beside her. Asch felt ridiculous, everyone was looking at her and she could feel the heat from her face flood all the way down to her toes.

 

“Let me get you something to eat. Stay right there I’ll be a minute.” Asch nods, watching him go before darting her eyes to the table, desperately pretending no one was looking her way. Volbin returns with a large bowls of soup and a basket of bread. They begin to eat in silence before Volbin clears his throat, looking a bit sheepish as he says “I... should apologize.” Asch stares at him in quiet shock, “I didn’t ask you if this is what you wanted- I just. He was a fowl man.” His voice grows tight as his face. 

 

“I thought I’d have time to... talk to you about it before- you told me about the service tunnel and I found it... I just.” He pauses, chewing his lip “I’m sorry.” Asch smiles, though it is a little one “my father will be... unkind if I return.” Volbin gazes at her, it was a gentle word to use for what would be in store if she went home and they both knew it. “I don’t know what to do-“ “stay-“ he blurts, a desperate tone “I...beg of you.” 

 

Asch feels her chest tighten, a terrible feeling “stay where?” Volbin licks his lips, a nervous shake in his hands as they tighten together in front of him on the table “with- with me” Asch opens her mouth, colour draining from her cheeks as she says “that- isn’t proper.” Asch had learned her lesson quickly the first time. “Why is that?” Volbin blinks, face baffled and lilt confused “you... you aren’t- family and... and you are unmarried” Volbin breathes out a smile, chest shaking in quiet laughter “lets change that.” Asch blinks, sitting straight in her chair “h-how...?” She utters, Volbin carts a hand through his hair, fluffing it away from his face. 

 

“Marry me Asch.” 

 

Asch sputters, “w-what?!” Volbin nods firmly “you heard me. Marry me.” He reaches for her hands, taking them within his, “what... I- well- I’m... you’re... a- a commoner- I-“ The words are spoken from her mouth, but they are her father’s. Suddenly his hands draw away and it’s clear that he is hurt “is that what you truly think of me?” Asch trembles, “no- no... I- it’s... what- you... you are?” Volbin frowns “why do you think I’m a commoner?!” Asch feels her face drain of colour “I- I... learnt everything about the houses. The... the families and the names and- and I never- you’ve never...” Her eyes begin to mist over, tears pearling in her eyes, Volbin doesn’t seem to notice this and crosses his arms, “and so I’m not good enough since I belong to no house?”

 

Asch feels her heart strain badly in her chest, tears begin to fall down her cheeks “I-  I’m- I just-“ she rubs the palm into her cheek, wiping away the tears, “I’m sorry I’ll-“ Asch pulls herself from the chair, but before she can escape, Volbin grabs her wrist “Asch.” She looks up at his through tears, “do you want me?” Asch nods frantically, to choked to speak “will you marry me?” 

 

 

Asch clutched his hands, dizzy and leaning into his embrace, Volbin’s mouth twitches in a smile, “y-yes-“

 

 

Volbin rushes them to the cathedral district, hoping up the steps until they get to the top of it, carefully he lets her down, so excited that his vibrating on the spot, smiling uncontrollably. Before they can enter a Draenei lumbers from the church, tail swinging as he walks. Asch jumps back into Volbin, pawing at him in terror “what- what is-“ Asch trips on her gown as the Draenei stops, blinking at the two of them “very grand dress my lady,” he says, bowing before swaying down the steps. “That was a Draenei-“ he pauses, realizes that she has never seen any other race but her own kind. 

 

Suddenly he laughs at the thought of it, Asch looks up at him worriedly, head tilted “I’m- I’m sorry it’s-“ he snorts, kissing the top of her head, “let me explain.” As they enter the church Volbin quietly tells her about the different races, pointing out those that were idled in the church.

 

 

Volbin takes her to the very end of chruh, toward the dais where a priest is standing, nose stuffed in a book “we’d like to get married.” The priest slowly stops reading his book, turning his nose up at Volbin, both his beady eyes glancing between the two of them “I cannot do that. You must petition the church and then you will receive a date for-“ “how much?” Volbin bites, rolling his eyes as the priests eyes light up. “Five hundred.” Volbin scowls deeply at the other, but Asch blinks between the two, looking far too innocent as she lifts her hand from where it clutched his arm, she pulls a small gem from her sleeve, pressing it into Volbin’s palm. Volbin sighs, blatantly annoyed. “Here. Is this enough?” The priest perks up, nodding quickly with excitement “yes absolutely- shall we?” 

 

 

“Dearly beloved-“ “the short version.” Volbin hisses, glaring at the priest, who gulps, “do you...?” “Volbin Swiftmoon.” “Do you Volbin Swiftmoon take...?” Asch presses on her toes, kneading her hands into Volbin’s arm, worried as she speaks her name “Asch Cinnis.” The priest nods, “do you take Asch Cinnis to be your lawfully wedded wife?” Volbin eagerly nods “I do.” Asch feels him squeeze her hand, “and do you, Asch Cinnis take Volbin Swiftmoon to be your lawfully wedded husband?” Asch smiles up at Volbin, “I do!” Volbin chuckles at the eagerness of her voice.

 

“By the power vested in me I now pronounce you husband and wife, you may kiss your bride.” 

 

Volbin turns to her, letting only a second pass before his lips are consuming hers, arms wrapping around her middle, under the cloaks uncaring if they fall off her shoulders. Asch giggles against his mouth as he lifts her from the ground, squeaking as he spins her. "Ahem," the priest coughs. Turning, Volbin saw a glint of gold in his hand. "These are yours." Volbin takes the rings from him, nodding his thanks before putting the smaller one on Asch's finger, and letting her put the bigger one on his. "Now if you'll excuse me," the priest begins, "I have a scheduled wedding in fifteen minutes to get ready for," and hurries off.

Chapter 135: Lor’themar/Arthas dabbles 10

Summary:

Lor’themar Theron/Asch Theron

Enjoy!!

Chapter Text

Asch felt a soft, long kiss right behind her ear, and giggled. “Isn’t it bad luck to see the bride before the ceremony?” Asch felt her stomach flutter when rough hands rubbed down her bare shoulders, giving her goosebumps. “And if my eyes can only see half- is it still?” Asch adjusts to look back at him, Lor’themar had the kindest eyes she had ever come to know, one was blue and beautiful, the other one a pale cloud that somehow still saw her. 

 

Asch reaches for his face, which he gladly allows, her soft fingers touch his scarred  cheek, the puckered ruin. It was a bad scar, skin sewn hastily, no ones fault in particular. Lor’themar told her the story, it was during battle, he was cut with a long sword, but wasn’t able to seek attention for it until well after the fights were over. Asch wondered sometimes if he had- would he still be able to see? 

 

Lor’themar leans into her hands, sighing deeply “I want to make you happy,” he confesses, eyes closed in effort, “I want to give you everything you desire,” Asch feels her heart strain “Lo...” he shakes his head “I can’t give you a wedding or a home- or the life Kael can... I- I can only give you myself...” Asch feels tears prickle in the corner of her eyes, watching the pain erupt in his face was too much to bear. 

 

Asch hushed him- because she can’t bear to hear it anymore “you are everything I want,” she promises, watching his pain ripple away from his face, “I should have known that,” she should have known after the first few days in Kael’thas company that he would never love her- her father was already questioning whether or not to agree to the marriage, but Asch begged him, begged to marry the prince of their people, even after her father told her that she deserved a man who would be tender, one deserving of her love. 

 

Asch wonders what he would think of Lor’themar. 

 

Would he like him? Would he worry? Would he frown upon Lor’themar’s station? His scars? 

 

It was true military men couldn’t offer much, she would never have the life she knew now, Lor’themar simply couldn’t afford such a thing. War would bring him away from home, like it did all soldiers, and she would stay and wonder if the next time he was due home, if it would be in a coffin. 

 

Would their children be provided for? What if he died, Asch had no idea how to live without luxury, no skills to put to use. She would be a soldiers wife, no longer a princess and due none of it’s benefits.

 

Asch felt sorrow in her heart as she looked at him, deciding that no, her father would not approve, no matter how much Lor’themar loved her. 

 

“I love you,” she says, trembling “so much.” Lor’themar opens his eyes and looks at her, all the love in the world in his eyes. But then, she watches a cheeky smile cross his mouth, “come here,” he says, playfulness in his voice as he coaxes her to stand. Asch goes where he guides her, letting his hands pull her own.

 

“I won’t have time to say any of this later,” he tells her, swatting his cape to get down on his knee, still holding her hands in a most tender embrace, “I thought about what I would say to you, when we stood together- what I would vow to do and uphold.” Lor’themar smiles, so bright and full up at her “but I decided on only one thing to say.” Asch swallows, tears beading down her cheeks, Lor’themar laughs wetly, shaking his head “I will never leave you lonely.” Asch had not expected what his words would truly do to her, she hadn’t expected to feel a weight lift from her heart, or the utter emotion that bubbled over. 

 

Asch hadn’t realized just how lonely it had really been all these years, how cold her bed has been, how vast the castle she lived in was, or how empty her heart truly was. 

 

Asch rushes into him, hugging him so tightly it hurt, Lor’themar squeezes her into him, desperate to eliminate the space between them. Asch could not think of anything remotely as beautiful as what Lor'themar had said to her, it made her feel terrible, but he didn’t seem to mind. 

 

Asch parts from his chest, hands shaking in his as she looks up at him, Lor’themar gazed down at her, a question in his eyes, Asch flushes, trying to say something but failing as the door behind them opens. Halduron blinks down at them, then laughs at the sight before him “c’mon you two,” he says with utter fondness “everything’s ready.” 

 

 

The ceremony was not one he had wished for, he wanted to provide a grand affair, one that fit a princess, but Hal had done his best and Lor’themar couldn’t imagine anything else as he stood next to the high priest, surrounded by twinkling mage lights, beautiful bunches of flowers and fireflies. 

 

There was no music when Asch stood in the isle, made from flatted long grass and ribbons, but Lor’themar was still in awe as she begun to walk with Hal toward him. Her dress- the dress. It was unfinished and pinned in places, but Lor’themar didn’t want anything else, her hair was decorated with little white flowers, something he almost missed- which he suspected Hal had something to do with. 

 

Asch had only one flower, a sunflower, but it did nothing to hide the nervous shake in her hands as she clung to his best friend, and her toes were peaking from the bell of the dress, which Lor’themar could only laugh at. 

 

When they came to him, Hal gave Lor'themar her hands and Asch kissed the rangers cheek, making him fumble and sputter, much to their amusement. 

 

The high priest gave them a moment, before he spoke, “do you take this women to be your wife?” Lor’themar smiles at her, “I do,” Asch squeezes his fingers, eyes filling with tears again “and do you take this man to be your husband?” She nods, quickly and practically cries out; “I do!” The high priest smiles, nodding “you may now kiss the bride.” Lor’themar didn’t wait for him to finish, his lips already on her before he could say ‘you may’ he could hear Hal chuckle, the soft pads of his boots leaving down where they came. Asch fists his cloak, trying to find purchase on his ornate armour, but soon giving up. 

 

Lor’themar lifts her, arms wrapped securely around her as he spins her, finally ruining the kiss with a full, carefree laugh. Asch’s face was flushed, such a beautiful pink. Lor’themar puts her down, suddenly realizing they had nowhere to go now. 

 

A sudden squawk alerts him, looking at the end of the isle he can see Hal’s strider waiting there patiently, once again he could not express how thankful he was to have a friend like Hal. 

 

Lor’themar leads her toward it, putting her atop its back before getting behind her, “look at this,” she says, pulling a parchment from its place under some ruffled feathers, Lor’themar peers over her shoulder, it was a map. 

 

Lor’themar gently takes it from her hands, looking at it for a moment, turning it he finds Hal’s writing, which says;

 

‘I know you can’t return to the inn- for reasons be both know, but I hope you like my wedding present. Follow the path in the map, and I’ll see you tomorrow- or... whenever you've finished. Hal.’ 

 

Lor’themar snorts at the crass nature of his letter, of course he expected as much from Hal. “What is it?” His bride asks, looking up at him. Lor’themar feels warm. His new bride. “Let’s go find out.” 

 

Lor’themar wasn’t sure he had read the map correctly, it was leading them deeper into the woods and well passed anything recognizable, not to mention it was very dark now and making him rather nervous. It wasn’t until there was a break in the thicket did Lor’themar finally understand where they were. 

 

They came upon a small clearing, one that was protected by overgrown grass and trees, willow branches overhanging the area like curtains, in the middle was a single, massive tree.

 

Lor’themar looks up at it, willows hung down to the ground, it’s lush green leaves cascading over the grass, completely overgrown. The only break in the sheet of leaves as a single red tie, which Hal must have put, Lor’themar halts the strider, sliding off it’s saddle before pulling Asch down. She goes ahead of him, but before she can touch the trees leaves, Lor’themar scoops her up, causing her to gasp in confusion. 

 

“It’s tradition,” he says, watching her blink in surprise “to carry you over the threshold.” At his words her face grows red, her sunflower falling to the grass bed. Without much trouble Lor’themar stalks under the leaves, shocked at what he finds.

 

Hal had placed down a bedding of blankets and a basket of some kind, three dully lit mage lights float around aimlessly inside the tree, providing the only source of light inside. 

 

Asch’s eyes grow large “oh Lo...” she mutters in awe, “it’s beautiful...” Lor’themar can only nod as he sets her down, amazed. He would surely have to thank Hal for this. 

 

Asch had ventured away from him, her toes touching the soft blankets laid out, she looks at it a moment longer before spinning around to look at her new husband, who is already looking at her. Asch fiddles with her dress, swallowing a lump in her throat before she speaks, “Make me your wife.” 

 

Lor’themar feels his face heat up at her words, the dim light hopefully masking it, doubtful since her face was inflamed with reddish blush, extending from her cheeks all the way to the tops of her breasts. 

 

Lor’themar licks his dry lips, swallowing nothing as he felt his throat bob painfully, in a way that had him wondering if he was breathing or if his chest was pretending. When her eyes cannot take it any longer, they snap away, her face twists in humiliation and Lor’themar snaps quickly, rushing to her before she felt too mortified by his silence. Lor’themar takes her waist in his hands, roughly, pulling her to his chest and before he could recognize his own actions, his lips were upon hers in a fever. Asch gasps into his mouth, flinching like a frightened deer at his actions before melting in his embrace, tilting her head up as she sunk toward him. 

 

Lor’themar’s hands venture toward her back, feeling the way it curved in effort, desperately trying to make her taller than she was. Parts of him felt terrible, he could not provide an ivory bed to lay her upon, not a grand castle to call home- or even a roof he mused to himself. But then- Kael had crossed his mind, he could give her those things, but he could never make her happy. Never love her as Lor’themar would every night. 

 

Never touch her in the way she deserved.

 

 

Lor’themar takes the clasps from his cloak, dropping it behind him in a heap, before fingering the bow at the small of her back, pulling at its tie. Asch pulls away, giggling softly as his hands fumble, which flusters him a little, Asch kisses his jaw, turning for him silently, Lor’themar kisses her neck, eagerly undoing her dress with both his hands. The ribbons slack, and Lor’themar watches it slip from her, but not fall. Lor’themar eyes it carefully, tugging it gently, still it resists, then he sees her arms squeezing the fabric against her.

 

“Asch?” He whispers, kissing her shoulder lovingly, rounding to stand in front of her. Asch swallows, looking smaller than usual, nervous and shoulders hiked toward her ears. Asch’s shyly looks up at him, cheeks turning darker as the seconds pass. Lor’themar smiles softly, making a show of removing his armour, pulling his linens shirt over his head. 

 

“Still scared?” He mutters, stepping closer “look at me,” he tells her, lifting her chin up with a gentle hand, with the other he sneaks under the dress, carefully drawing it down while staring into her eyes. Asch fidgets slightly, Lor’themar can feel goosebumps prickle where he touches, Lor’themar kisses her again, chest to chest. Asch feels warm, soft where he was hard. Her hand shakes as she touches his breast, fingers brushing over a raised scar, a sword had gotten a lucky blow there. 

 

Lor'themar leans over her, drawing her head back while kissing down her lips, tasting her jaw and wetly kissing her neck. His hands smooth their way down her skin, cupping her behind and making her squeak. Lor’themar dips her forward, groaning softly as her nipples brush into his skin as he slowly lays them in the blanket, a noise escapes her throat that he can’t quite place, but as he looks at her face he can tell she’s terrified. Lor’themar stops, pressing his nose against her, “we don’t have too,” He promises, never taking his eyes away. 

 

Asch shakes her head as best she can, “I- just- I... don’t know-“ Lor’themar silences her with a firm kiss, “let me show you?” At her nod Lor’themar begins to kiss along her, Asch shutters beneath him as his lips come to the tops of her breasts, careful, butterfly-like kisses pepper the tender flesh. Lor’themar kisses around her nipple, cupping the other breast in his hand, finger copying his mouth before his tongue pulls from his mouth and tentatively licks the bud. Asch whimpers at the feeling, spurring him on as her hands grip his forearms. 

 

Lor’themar applies a little more force, rolling the nipple between his fingers, sucking the other with his mouth as she squirms under him, little moans escaping her like breathes. Carefully, his lips travel downward, leaving her chest and kissing trails toward her flat belly. His lips come to the soft, linen panties and he openly lifts it with his teeth, exciting a worried gasp from her mouth “may I?” He hears how choked his own voice has become, the need and desperation as it throbs between his legs. Another curt nod is his answer and Lor’themar begins to hastily peel them away, exposing more creamy skin and soft, snowy curls. 

 

 

Leaning away to look, Lor’themar is consumed by what he saw, between her thighs was rosy pink lips, shiny in the dim light. Lor’themar takes her legs in his hands, lifting her thighs with ease, he watches the pink lips open, and Lor’themar’s heart hammers in his ears. “Yes...?” He finally mutters, looking back at her face, how covered by her hands. “Y-yes” she quickly says, chest heaving “tell me to stop and I will,” Lor’themar whispers, leaning toward her cunt with his tongue pulled from his mouth. 

 

Asch must have not expected this, because she jumps in his embrace, a surprised cry falling from her mouth as Lor’themar licks between her slit, tasting her sweetness. Asch squirms as his tongue quests around, licking up her cunt, nose burried in her curls. Lor’themar likes the sounds she makes when his tongue pokes into her and continues pressing it lightly, quickly. 

 

Lor’themar felt her writhe against his mouth, moans wantonly, desperate and needy, coming from her mouth. 

 

Asch’s delicate fingers wrap into his hair and tug his high ponytail loose, Lor’themar putts as they knead against his skull, thighs coming around his ears and squeezing desperately. Lor’themar slows his licking, kissing her cunt lovingly before pecking her thighs as they slack. Lor’themar kisses up her stomach, toward her chest as returns his lips to her mouth in a long, searing kiss. “I love you.” He says against her lips, forehead resting gently with hers as Asch pants in his face, overwhelmed. 

 

Lor’themar takes the opportunity to lift her legs around his waist, easing himself as close as he can and allowing his cock to press into her thigh. “I-I love you t-too.” Asch stutters, eyes fluttering and cheek flaring in colour “may... I?” He whispers, chest heaving in anticipation. 

 

“Y-yes” Lor’themar bites his lip, nodding slowly as he draws his fist around his cock, carefully pressing the dark pink head of it between her wet slits, rubbing it up her cunt drawing a groan from him as he dips it back into her hole, carefully pushing inside of her. Lor’themar bites his cheek as he suppresses a noise of pure pleasure as her cunt tightly wraps around him. Asch gasps in pain and Lor’themar pauses, kissing her deeply as he continues. Asch breaks away from his kiss, whimpering “it hurts-“ Lor’themar nods solemnly, “I’m sorry- I-“ Lor’themar swallows, stopping himself completely, deciding to try and distract her before attempting try anything more. 

 

Lor’themar licks her skin, sucking her neck and drawing his lips downward toward her flushed chest, licking the budding nipples in hopes it would help. Asch sighs tensely, hands pressed into his sides. “It- it’s-“ Lor’themar nods, allowing himself to move again, pulling out and gently back in. Lor’themar watches her face as he continues to rock into her, watches the pain melt slowly to pleasure and finds and nice, soft rhythm to his thrusting. 

 

Soon Asch is moaning into his neck, gasping his name as he basks in the feeling of her cunt squeezing him. “I- I won’t- I’m-“ Lor’themar bites his words out, moaning deeply from his chest as he stills inside of her, cock pulsing as it spurts. Asch gasps at the feeling, overtaken by it. 

 

Lor’themar holds himself up by his elbows as he pants, head resting between the slopes of her breasts, feeling her heart pounding against his forehead. 

 

Lor’themar rolls off of her, laying on his back before pulling Asch on top of him. “I love you,” she whispers, voice full of happiness. “I love you too Asch.” 

 

Chapter 136: Aethas dabbles 1

Summary:

Aethas Sunreaver/Original female Highelf

Sorry for the late update! Enjoy!

Chapter Text

 

 

 

There was little Aethas knew about being kind, humiliation he knew plenty of, but kindness? 

 

Khadgar was seated across from him “Jaina will not return to the Kirin Tor but she pledged someone in her stead.” Despite providing his full attention, Khadgar was irritatingly fiddling with a quill, tapping the end of it on a parchment. “Pledged someone?” Khadgar sighs despairingly, nodding solemnly “it is a stepping stone for her return- so we must take it.” Khadgar pulls the parchment up from the quill and scans it over “her name is Asch Sunheart- a student of Rhonin in fact.” He says, reading “until... Kalec overtook her training during the Icecrown campaign. Since then she had been working along side the dragon-“ Khadgar paused long “she was a resident of Theramore.”

 

Khadgar frowns and he placed it back down, rubbing his eye with the tips of his fingers before speaking again “you know as well as I do how important Jaina is-“ he heavily sighs now, looking anywhere but Aethas, “and just how wounded she is by what happened.” Aethas scowls, crossing his arms as he listens to Khadgar. Since the purge of Dalaran things have no been as they were and Khadgar was now up to the task of repairing the damaged relations. 

 

“I need you to mend fences with her. Jaina won’t speak to you so it’s up to you to make an impression on her pledge, Asch.” Before Aethas can say anything, Khadgar has him beat, “it is your fault, after all, that Jaina isn’t here in the first place.” The words held no bite, but Aethas felt it either way. “So I ask you, for your own sake- mind you- that you be on good terms with her. Whatever it takes.” His voice highlighted his words, punching Aethas with them one at a time. 

 

 

Jaina had expelled his people from Dalaran, including his Sunreavers, it had been a long road since that time, but still they were not allowed to return to the city of magic. Aethas was only just permitted to return, even that was as solid as wet parchment. Aethas had thought about his words however, Jaina was important and if there was a chance this pledge would have her ear maybe it was possible they could all have what they want, Sunreavers readmitted into Dalaran’s ranks and Khadgar could have Jaina. 

 

Aethas sighs, if he must play nice, he will. It wasn’t the first time he had to be diplomatic and surely not the last. Without much choice, Aethas nods “I will do this thing,” he mutters, watching Khadgar’s lips pull into a satisfied smile “good. Jaina told me where you can find her, I said we would send someone to retrieve her.” Aethas fumes quietly at this, of course he had. “She’s living in Northrend- you remember Coldarra I take it? A cottage in the mountains, you’ll have to fly to find it as Jaina didn’t specify where.” With a nod to himself, Khadgar stands to leave, delighted as always “I’m sure you are up to the task. Don’t tarry, or you’ll be late for the party!” At his own words he laughs, leaving Aethas to stew in his plush seat. 

 

 

With Dalaran having moved from Crystalsong Forest it meant that returning to Northrend would be largely annoying, thankfully some portals were set up in the inner sanctum and Aethas shortly found himself in Dragonblight, standing atop the Wyrmrest temple. Waving his hands he summoned his outlandishly coloured dragonhawk and mounted him, pointing his beak toward Borean Tundra and settled for the long flight. Aethas took the time to read what Khadgar provided him of Jaina’s pledge, Asch. 

 

Her father used to be a general in Vereesa’s Silver Covenant, now a simple bookkeeper and her mother was a simple seamstress. Asch had been born before the war and fled with her family when the scourge attacked, though she was close in his age, it appeared they had lived vastly different lives. Instead of follower her father’s footsteps Asch became a mage, first under the tutelage of the alliance magi order, than quickly Rhonin himself found untapped potential in Asch and took her as his student, the only since Illidan Stormrage and after. 

 

This Aethas had gawked at in particular, Rhonin was and would always be important to not only the history of Dalaran, but to the worlds as well. No one fancied themselves a mage if they did not respect the influence and power Rhonin Redhair had upon their order. It came as a great surprise then when Khadgar had told him and even now as he read it. 

 

However impressive it was, what was equally was Kalecgos, the blue dragon had taken up the task of teaching her, and as he read continued this day. Both man and dragon were proficient in frost magic, with Rhonin being the far more astute of the two, but this allowed Asch to become equally acquainted in all three classes of magic and major in her former teachers speciality of frost. 

 

As he flew over the wastes of Borean Tundra he reads that she lived in Theramore, and that Asch had been luckily away when the bomb had hit, but takes the loss as hard as Jaina. One could understand, Khadgar’s notes on the subject of her apprenticeship that Rhonin had great interest in her and Khadgar continues to write that Rhonin saw impressive potential. Most of Khadgar’s writing- which was extensive- was about Rhonin, Theramore and just how deeply wounded Asch was. His notes recount the bond they formed and how close she was to the family and Aethas supposed thatit was Khadgar’s way of telling him to tread lightly. 

 

Aethas would have to take a few days, in fact, to read everything that was inside the file, but for now he continued to skim. Some of the file contained Rhonin’s own handwriting and most of it was pertaining to Asch as his student, a teachers journal of her progress that goes on in length of his excitement, Aethas reads the first entry carefully and Rhonin exclaims how impressed he is with her first days progress, that she was proficient with a blade and that he would delight in teaching her his style of combat. Arthas folds the corner of the page so that he may continue to read the journal entries at a later time, since he was coming close to Coldarra, it would do no good if his attention was divided. 

 

Neither Jaina or Khadgar knew the exact whereabouts of her cabin, so Aethas pulled his Dragonhawk low to the mountains and begins to scan the tree line for smoke. It was peaceful up here and he supposed it was as good as any other place to live, it was quiet since Malygos and his followers had been uprooted from the Nexus and it was close to her teachers home. It would have been and ideal spot if Khadgar hadn’t whisked Dalaran away, but Arthas assumes there are other reasons to stay here. 

 

 

His careful watching had paid off as he comes upon a very thick, small forest of trees gathered in a low flat dip in the mountains edge, high enough one could not simply walk here, but low enough that it was still under the clouds. Aethas dismounts, letting his mount vanish as he weeds through the trees, following the smoke, though as he entered under the blanket of pines it became harder too see, and darker. There was no snow on the ground and the grass was healthy looking, odd for such a place but Aethas found it rather beautiful. 

 

Despite the branches folding over one another, Arthas could see his way, little floating mage candles were floating about the area and he followed the makeshift path they provided him until he came to the smallest clearing. 

 

Still no natural light came to the place, but the candles bathed the cabin, it was made of the same wood the trees were, it had a neat brick smoke stack that was puffing out greyish clouds and a window, too clouded over with ice and snow to look in, but at least glowed with firelight, telling Aethas she was at least home. 

 

Climbing the single step he knocks firmly on the door, there was no sound for a moment, then the door swings open, revealing a very confused woman on the other side. Asch was about a head shorter than he was, delicate looking in every way. She wore her hair up in a messy bun, and it was a white as the snow on her porch, her eyes were soft blue, the colour his people once possessed and her skin was a milky white. Asch wore a simple dress, which was mostly hidden under a fluffy yellow robe, and her feet were dressed in matching slippers.

 

Aethas clears his throat, attempting to smile before he speaks, the girl before him waits, brow furrowed and ruining her pretty face “Khadgar sent me- I trust you were expecting me?” It was a jab, they both knew, because she did not look like she had been expecting him at all. To her credit she does not snap at him, though the look upon her face says she wishes too. “I was. But not so late. It’s nearly eight.” Aethas supposed it was rather rude of him to come so late, but Khadgar had insisted he did so. 

 

“I do apologize,” Aethas says, “my name is Aethas Sunreaver, a pleasure.” As he bows, Aethas can see the dawn of realization upon her face and the immediate scowl of displeasure. So she hadn’t known of him. Well, she does now. Despite the obvious tension, Asch steps from her door and allows him inside. “Let me get my things,” she mutters, uncomfortable. Aethas now left in her living room, takes the time to look around. 

 

The cabin was much larger than he believed it to be, there was a kitchen directly attached to the living room and he watched as she went through it toward a door, which seemingly lead to stairs that appeared to go down. Walking leisurely around he notes the expensive nature of her furnishings, much of which he has seen in Silvermoon in the Citadel itself. There were few things scattered about, books of magic taken from their shelf, which stood proudly in the corner on the back wall, tucked between it and the fireplace. 

 

Despite what he knows about her, Aethas notes, with surprise that she was reading books of fire, though on the shelf there were largely more frost tomes, with a few arcane littered about. Stopping at her fireplace Aethas could see there were small frames with photos painted inside, one of her parents no doubt he can tell, just by the fact the two were snowy haired and blue eyed. Another was of Vereesa and her twins, one of Kalec and Asch herself, but as he moves from end to end, he can see one frame that was greatly cared for. One larger than the others, standing gold with banished ends, was one of Rhonin and herself. 

 

 

In the painted photo, which now he sees was treated with magic, both figures begin to move and Asch has started to laugh, Rhonin following shortly after. She was holding his staff and sword, when it loops, he can tell that the photo was intending to show her weilding them expertly, but ruined by something- no doubt something said by Rhonin himself.  

 

Aethas moves from it and continues on to her kitchen, looking at the food askew on the lush decorated stone countertops, bread fresh in the basket as well as fruits that looked just picked and a little neat plate with a stick of butter atop it, hardly touched as of now. Her table is made of fine wood and decorated around the edges with carved flowers and leaves, the stem made with intricate woven vines that provided the support and legs. The chairs, only two, match it elegantly, legs of vines and seats of plush. 

 

Atop it was barely a thing, no plates of old meals or cups of any kind, simply neatly folded cloth napkins of pure white colour. Aethas dares to peak beyond the door she left through and sees only one light on, deciding without thinking, he walks down her hardwood steps and follows the light. At the bottom of the steps was a landing, a decently sized space, but there are only three rooms, directly in front of him was a bathroom, large in size and very clean. The bath was the greatest thing inside, taking most of the room and far more luxurious than anything he had known. Quickly he moves on, easing open the second door to find an bedroom, one without any possessions or much of anything, a guest room he muses to himself, touching the linens that were tightly tucked in the bed. There was no dust of any kind in this room, though it does not look to have ever been in use. 

 

Moving to the last, he sauntered inside, noting that it must have been her room, because now it held life that the other had lacked. The bed was made to perfection, but looked more welcoming than that of the guest bed, the sheets were a golden yellow, pillows decorated the end, matching the sheets exactly. Two end tables were on each side, holding two lamps, but the one on the left had a single book upon it, making him assume that was the side she chose to lay. 

 

Toward the front of the room, nearest to him was another sofa and end table, before the end table was a lit fire and atop its fine wood was more books. Her sofa held a few soft looking throws and across from that on the other wall was another bookshelf, but beside it was a vanity, which also only had a brush on its surface and little else. Aethas sees a large trunk, leather brown and open, filled with clothes. However it was not large and promptly told him that she was not moving. 

 

Asch comes out of another room- seemingly a walk in closet, a dress in her arms and she jumps in fright at his presence but quickly grows irritated with his presence. Aethas wasn’t sure what to say, he should apologize again since he was not rightly suppose to be here, be he finds he cannot speak at all as she ignores him now. 

 

So he watches her pass in and out of the walk in, filling her trunk with clothes in silence. She had changed in the time he was upstairs, into a light blue robe and flat, comfortable looking shoes. It was quite pretty honestly, her hair had been styled in a tight fishtail braid that stubbornly did not move as she did, with the exception of feathery bangs that fell down the side of her face and stopped just below her chin. Her ears were stark straight on her head, properly at attention, even he did not do this, often finding that his ears would ache long after. She dawned two golden rings on each, which was the only rebellious looking thing about her. 

 

In his inspection he had lacked to noticed that she had finished and was now throwing a coat- that matched- on herself, only when she had cleared her throat did he snap from his thoughts, trunk closed and locked at her feet. “Dalaran awaits, does it not?” She says flatly, clearly having none of his foolish behaviour, it oddly reminded him of Rommath, but even he wasn’t quite so lovely as her. 

 

“Yes I believe it does,” he finally manages to say, and unlike his trip here, he can easily create a portal to the city and does so right in he middle of her bedroom. Asch waves her hand and the trunk pops up from the ground and Aethas watches it follow her through the portal, which he than stumbles into. 

 

Khadgar is on the other side of it when they come through and greets them both with a smile and a bow toward Asch “my lady,” he says very politely “hello Archmage,” Asch responds, providing a curtsey in exchange “I am so very glad you are here- I trust Jaina has informed you as to why?” Asch nods, and Khadgar gesture her to walk with him and Aethas has little choice but to follow as they begin to trek toward the Violet citadel. “She had imformed me you wished that I take up her duties.” Khadgar nods eagerly at this, “yes exactly that my lady-“ “Archmage if you please,” Asch corrects, Khadgar jovially hums “Archmage.” 

 

“I must say you are as beautiful as I remember, Archmage.” Khadgar continues, smiling handsomely, Asch smiles, but it does not reach her eyes “and you are as kind as I remember.” Khadgar laughs wholly at this, nodding along “we are very excited to have you join us- aren’t we Aethas?” At his mention he can see Asch tense and frown deeply, but it doesn’t not affect Khadgar’s mood “yes, indeed we are.” As they climb the steps Aethas can see balloons inside the open archway and once the full view of the citadel comes, he can see there were troves of people in midst of a party.

 

“Our guest of honour-“ Khadgar proclaims, than says “I do hope you don’t mind this,” people begin to clap in excitement as they come inside, “Archmage Sunheart such a pleasure!” Modera comes up, drinks in hand and extends one toward her “good to see you as always, Modera.” Asch says kindly, obviously meaning her words as she takes the glass and presses a kiss upon the others cheek, “come find me later- so much to catch up on!” With that Modera dismisses herself, not first without eyeing Khadgar longingly and Aethas despairingly. 

 

“You’ve been long overdue to return,” Khadgar chuckles, “you’ll have your hands full of people tonight.” Aethas withers as Khadgar eyes him, what the look means he does not know, but takes it under advisement either way. “I suppose I will,” Asch says without much behind it, looking rather exhausted at the prospect. Khadgar pats her shoulder once “glad to have you back, my dear.” And that prompts a softer look from Asch as he leaves, walking behind her and toward Aethas, before he leaves altogether, he whispers “good impressions.” And it echoes their much earlier conversation and Aethas knows there will be no escape for him tonight. 

Chapter 137: Illidan dabbles 24

Summary:

Illidan Stormrage/Asch Stormrage
I have something important to say to you readers, please take the time to read this!

I know a lot of people really enjoy all the different characters in this story and as long as I like them, I will continue to write them.

As the writer I have to say, while getting comments here and mail in my tumblr inbox is wonderful, and I really enjoy hearing for you guys, but I wanted to bring to light the abuse I have suffered from some of you.

Some of you have been, rude, harsh and have called me names- all because I’m not writing a character you want to see.
Now I understand that people like certain things but I’m not someone you can just command and abuse. So here is the deal, no, I will not be writing any more Garrosh ever, period.
Why? Because when I have, I have people demanding and threatening me to write more of him. So there is absolutely no way I will continue, or continue to allow people to do this to me. Find another story or write it yourself. Now do not ask or comment about Garrosh every again, because I have had enough of it.
Thank you to those who like my story as is.

Chapter Text

 

Illidan groans, wings crumpled under him again, which had become a bad habit as of late. His discomfort had lessened as he felt his wife’s warm, wet cunt squeeze around his cock. 

 

A purr escapes his mouth as his eyes flutter open, Asch was sitting atop his hips, speared in his cock and looking flushed “oh...” she moans, softly, hand pressed over her mouth, but failing to hide the noises. Illidan blinks leisurely, she didn’t know he had woken up yet. 

 

Illidan smirks as he watches Asch, breasts heaving with each breath she took, her heart pounding in his ears. In one swift motion he jerks his hips up toward her, making her shake and gasp loudly. “Illi-oh-!” His hands grab her thighs, pulling her on his cock at his pace “Asch,” he purrs in a loving, deep tone, watching her colour deeply in embarrassment “aren’t you bold,” He coos, pulling himself up, letting his wings stretch out. Asch kisses his jaw, peppering kisses toward his lips. Illidan seizes her mouth in a long, deep kiss.

 

“How long have you been using me for your pleasures?” He asks, but as he speaks Asch shutters, and he can feel her cunt grip him, thighs shaking. “Ohh,” he purrs, delighted as he watches her come, listening to her gasp him name, nearly out of breath. “How unfair” Illidan says, but really doesn’t mean it. “Was that the first?” He nips her shoulder, kissing the pink mark it left, Asch shakes her head, lost in the throngs of pleasure, still slowly riding him “t-third...” she mutters, biting her lip. 

 

Illidan hums, licking her sweaty skin, admiring the way she trembles in his hands, completely submitting herself- the control, the trust. 

 

 

Illidan rolls them over, cooing in delight as she sighs happily, a smile coming over her lips as he continues rolling his hips between her thighs, shuddering softly as he finished. Asch rubs her hands over his skin, laying with him and Illidan purposed sleeping again, until soft destressed sounds erupt from the cribs beside them. Asch giggles as Illidan huffs, allowing her up and following her to the twins. 

 

“Hello little ones,” Asch coos as she scoops them from their bedding, kissing their ashen hair. Illidan snakes his arms around Asch, curling his wings around the four of them. Tytus blinks his eyes up at his father and squeaks happily, Asch laughs, nose pressed into Seker’s head. 

 

Illidan helps Asch dress the twins and leave to the living quarters, where Kair promptly greets them and steals the twins from their mother in a bubble of excitement. Illidan watches his only girl curl into the furs with her brothers and babble at them, making the two giggle. 

 

“You didn’t have to hit so hard-!” Tadeas’ voice rings loudly from the door as it swings open, Edan is behind him laughing smugly. “Oh did I hurt the Archdruid?” Edan coos, mockingly. Tadeas snorts, fanning a hand through his feathery black hair, smiling handsomely. The two were covered in dirt and sweat, Tadeas recently had formed tattoos in the shape and curve of his father’s which were marred with greenish-black blood. 

 

“Ass-“ Tadeas jabs, but does so smiling, “morning nana, ada.” Illidan nods toward his children, “good morning my loves!” Asch smiles, but wrinkles her nose “you smell terrible.” Tadeas shrugs, smiling lazily “sorry nana...” Tadeas pulls a towel off one of the chairs and wipes his face. Despite becoming a Druid, Tadeas has grown to look much like his father, though he had a few more scales than the rest of their children. 

 

Tadeas flings the towel back onto the chair, taking one the blades from Edan’s hand, spinning it elegantly, thrusting it with Percision. “He cheated you know?” His head kills back to look at his father “he did your move-“ he tuts, Illidan tilts his head “that is?” Edan crosses his arms, amused already “I just jumped back-“ “and threw your glavies at me!” Tadeas pokes at Edan’s arm, shaking his head “I ‘ought to cut those things off.” Edan flicks his wings, face rumpled “I’d like to see you try little brother.” 

 

 

Asch blinks in horror, mouth drawn open in shock “when did you both become so irritating?” Illidan smiles sharply, chin jutted up. Tadeas frowns playfully, glaring at his father “since always- you know this.” Kair laughs from her spot “that’s for sure. You were such a pest as a baby.” Tadeas rolls his head to look over at his sister, sticking his tongue out “love you too Kair- Oh-! speaking of pests.” Tadeas flashes his father a toothy smile “Maiev says ‘hello’” Illidan cocks a brow, coming to settle by Kair, plucking Yllidis from her nest, to her despair.  

 

“Aunt Tyrande too-“ “what did Maiev say to you?” His father interrupts with a curt and angry tone. Tadeas claps his mouth shut, growing quiet, “she. Well. She didn’t say much. Just that-“ Tadeas runs his hands through his hair once again, nervous “that it's a waste for us to be here, really that was- that was all.” Edan looks dubiously at him “tell ada what she called you.” All of them grow quiet as look at Tadeas. 

 

“Archdruid Stormrage...” Tadeas mutters, colouring pink “I think- I don’t think she hates us so much anymore ada...” Illidan scowls badly, not fully believing him. “She’s changed quite a lot since you last saw her ada- she’s... vengeful still but-“ “the horde killed Sira Moonwarden.” Edan supplies, leaning his hands on the table behind him, ankle crossed over the other. “She wants us to join in the fight against the Horde.” Edan toys with his words for a moment before saying “the enemy of your enemy is an ally.” 

 

 

Illidan feels his rage boil beneath his skin, and it is only held at bay by the baby in his lap. “What have you decided?” Tadeas and Edan look up at him in shock and confusion, Asch saunters over to sit with him, “ada you said-“ “I remember.” Illidan hisses, without meaning too. Asch presses her hand on his arm, smiling softly “we don’t want to lose you, you all mean the world to us,” Asch says, tears threatening to spill from her eyes “but if you wish to fight, we cannot stop you.” 

 

The three eldest children look upon one another, regarding each other silently with unreadable expressions “my home is here. My... hunters are here.” Edan shakes his head, “I will not uproot them for another pointless war.” Edan would tell them the events and if his hunters chose to leave Argus than that was their decision, and they would be welcomed home if they returned, but the lord of the Illidari took up arms they all would too and Edan would not allow any more of his demon hunters to die for a war that wasn’t theirs. 

 

Tadeas hesitates, nodding quickly after “I have duties here- with you nana.” Tadeas was Archdruid of Argus, he along with his mother were repairing the damaged planet. Kair agrees vehemently “we’re a family nana of course we aren’t going anywhere!” At this Asch begin to cry and Illidan felt at peace. 

 

 

The day bled quickly away and soon the sky had begun to melt, a familiar but comfortable darkness begun to deep over the lands and Illidan watched his children settle for the night, allowing Kair to keep her youngest siblings before retiring himself. Edan smiles from his spot under the furs, not bothering to move to his room, neither did Tadeas, who waved goodnight, focusing on a small sprouting in his palm.

 

Yllidis waddles along with Kair as she carried the twins to her room, swaying along to a melody she was humming, Illidan watches until he can no longer see the four and promptly begins checking the rest of the house. 

 

First he places his hands upon the prison of Sargeras, knowing nothing had changed, but needing too anyway. Illidan slowly snuffs our the fires lit around the house, leaving little mage lights to flow as they pleased, he checks on Edan and Tadeas, watching his eldest prod at logs in the hearth, making sure it out continue to burn but not so brightly. 

 

Satisfied with efforts Illidan makes his way to his own bed. 

 

Asch did not aknowledge his return at first, focused on closing the windows so no breeze would filter in, but once she had finished the last she looks toward him and smiles softly. “Do you miss Azeroth?” Illidan finds himself asking, watching as she pauses, “there is nothing to miss,” she mutters, climbing into bed, looking rather little. 

 

“Isn’t there?” Illidan says, sitting upon the edge, mindlessly rubbing his fingers together. Asch, despite her worried expression, manages to smile “no,” she says without a hint of doubt “you had left it long ago, there is nothing for me on Azeroth.” Illidan felt his fingers clench into a fist, could there have been? 

 

It wasn’t a question he desired to answer, but one that still clouded his mind. Could she have had a life there? Wouldn’t it be better? Argus was isolated, there was little here and even less people. 

 

Asch interrupts his thoughts by coming to his side, hands pressing into his skin warmly as she hugs him. “My home is with you, no matter where that is- you should know this by now.” Illidan hears her playful chiding and chuckles softly, bringing his arm around her middle and basking in the softness of her skin. Illidan tilts his head and rests it against hers, sighing grandly “do you remember when we were young?” Asch nods slowly, sagging into his embrace. 

 

“I remember how pretty you were,” he says, seeing her face in his mind, the unmarked cheeks that coloured when he spoke to her, the way her lashes fluttered like snowflakes. “How short your hair was-“ Asch laughs, while it was never truly short to begin with, it had grown very long since. 

 

“I remember how scared you were when you thought I’d reject you, that day.” Illidan recalls it, feels dread because of his actions, “I was so cruel to you,” he mutters with great shame, Asch shakes her head “not always, not for long.” Illidan knew she made excuses for him at the time, like she always had when he was awful too her. Tyrande told him so, at least, before all that happened did. 

 

Malfurion kept telling him to stop being a fool and tell her how he really felt before it was too late. But in its essence, it was always too late. Illidan hadn’t realized it was until he was rotting in his prison. Purpose had gotten in the way, but every night when the war seemed far away, in his chambers atop the Black Temple, he dared think about her. 

 

Illidan would think about her when he doubted himself, he wanted to reach out to her in some way, but he was far to careful to allow anyone to know of her, in case they decided to harm her. Illidan told himself that he was doing it to protect her, that all of it was for her, but that was romantic and his life had no place for such things. 

 

So when he faced his end, his last thoughts were regret, pain, and longing for the one he had been so cruel too. Even as his soul threatened to rip apart in the twisting nether, he thought of her and endured. 

 

“I shouldn’t have been a fool,” he finally admits, but wishes back for a simpler time, the time when everyone knew his own feelings, and Illidan wished he believed them when they tried to tell him. “I was too,” Asch whispers, “I should have told you- at least much sooner.” Illidan chuckles bitterly, he would still have been stupid, possibly even more harsh to her than he had been. 

 

“I wish I knew you were alive.” Asch laments, “they didn’t tell me- to spare me I think. If I had known I would have done something foolish.” Illidan pets her side in thought, wondering if Asch would have found him, stayed with him or finally yelled her pain to him like he always thought she would. But then, Asch was never so cruel, she would have loved him still and forgiven all his slights as always. 

 

“I think,” he feels her smile brightly “I would have found you.” Illidan pulls her into his lap and embraces her, feeling his heart ping from the sheer pain of it. “I think I would have loved you.” He whispers into her hair, tightening his arms around her. Despite the pain it brought Illidan, Asch only laughed “the imposing lord of the Black Temple, loving a simple elf- how silly.” Illidan shares in his humour, but pulling her face to look at him “you are not simple,” he says, kissing her softly “I love you.” 

 

Asch presses her forehead against his, humming contently “I love you too.” They bask in the moment before Asch kissing him once more, pulling his with little effort to the head of their bed, tangling her legs and fingers with his as she settles to sleep. 

 

Illidan waits until she is finally asleep, idly kissing her hair in thought, before he decides to let himself rest. 

Chapter 138: Alternate universe Volbin dabbles 1

Summary:

Volbin Swiftmoon/Asch Cinnis
Original male character/original female character

So I’ve been toying around with this idea, it’s just an alternate universe with these two characters, it’s shorter than I would have liked but, I haven’t updated (my bad, school..) so enjoy!

Chapter Text

There was a breeze present over the docks, the salt water sprayed in the air and coated the flesh of the workers, and their lord watching over them. 

 

His eyes were steeled, desolate and purposed, squinting at all the boxes being heaved onto the deck. The golden glow of his eyes coloured his skin, lighting up the high and handsome cheekbones. His hair was wet from the water, the teal shade darkened green and stuck to his neck and face.

 

 

His impressive shoulders were tight with emotion unknown to all before him, arms crossed and legs planted and spread, a powerful display to all among him. Even his weapons master, a man who had been an ageless companion, shrunk in his presence as he came to his side, eyes drawn to the floor. 

 

“My lord Volbin,” he begins, likely bowing, though it was unseen, “what?” The weapons master shuffled behind him, a nervous sound pulling from his throat “Lord Regulous Cinnis has arrived to see you.” Volbin glares, head tilting as he continues looking at his shipyard “why is he here again?” Volbin grunts, barely glancing at the other as he speaks, “to offer his daughters hand- he’s a very wealthy man, my lord.” Volbin snorts, pulling his hand through his wet hair, “I’m a very wealthy man.” His weapons master laughs lightly, an awkward noise to Volbin’s ears, but not a unpleasant one. 

 

“Bring him here. I don’t imagine this will take long.” From the side the weapons master shakes his head wildly, “yes of course my lord.” Volbin sighs heavily, sauntering toward the railing and resting his elbows upon it, leaning his weight in his arms as he stares out at the never ending sea passed the docks. Eight men had come to him this week alone, pledging their daughters, the wealth and land. Volbin rubs his fingers against his eye lids, feeling irritation rise. 

 

“Lord Swiftmoon.” Volbin perks, hearing the deep, booming voice behind him. Turning his head without moving he sizes the man he only ever heard of. Before him is Regulous Cinnis, he was as impressive as Volbin had been told. His gaze was measured and intimidation rolled off his broad shoulders. His face was chiseled and holding a smirk, hair loose around his face and tied with golden spun string at the very end of it. 

 

His clothes were elegant and proper, dark colours that matched his deep purple skin, his ears were sharp and covered in wealth, chains dangling, gems twinkling and gold wrapped nearly all around. 

 

Volbin pushes off the railing and the two size each other without words, Regulous does not hide his inspection, acting as if he would decide whether Volbin was good enough for the offer before giving it. Volbin scoffs, but recognizes that despite his elevated status Regulous was his equal. The man before him was equally drowned in wealth, having his hands in nearly all the trades he could. Volbin also recognized why Regulous was interested him in the first place and could appreciate the cunning, though obvious.

 

Volbin had become the single greatest purveyor of weapons and the marvellous enchantments that accompanied them. His dedication to his craft had made Volbin the forefront of the war, and war was lucrative. 

 

“Lord Cinnis,” he finally says, stepping closer, crossing his arms once more. The man was nearly taller than him, their build was equal, but unlike Volbin who was comfortable with nearly every weapon, this man made his danger with his hands. He was a celebrated war mage, one that built the city around them, one that watched the foundations raise from rubble, one that was powerful and not at all humble about it. 

 

“You know why I’m here,” he says, almost as cocky as any younger man would be, but nothing about Regulous was aged, not even his eyes. Looking at him you’d never know he was father to five children. “I know why you’re here.” Volbin conforms, nodding curtly, brow drawn in question, but mostly amusement. “Her name is Asch.” Volbin tilts his head, eyeing the other with suspicion “all the others brought their daughters.” Regulous’ brows raise “I am not like the others.” That he wasn’t, nearly all the others were begging him, hardly as wealthy, but Regulous was exactly opposite.

 

 

Which irritated Volbin. 

 

 

“You’re wasting your time. I have no use for a wife.” Regulous laughs then, a rather dangerous sound Volbin thinks, but does not fear it. “Every man has a use for a wife.” Volbin glares, “find another man to marry your daughter, I do not want her.” Regulous sweeps toward him in a truly epic fashion, a smirk still present in his face “there is no other man that will marry my daughter.” A paper is in his hand, which I held out to Volbin to take. Regulous does not flitch as Volbin yanks it from his grasp, pulling it open with force that creases the paper, upon it was excellently scrawled numbers, her dowry.

 

“Take your offer somewhere else,” Volbin hisses, Regulous does not look phased by his fuming, and simply says “double it.” Volbin blinks, swallowing as he glanced at the paper once more, “I look forward to the wedding.” Regulous says, rather smugly. Volbin glares, watching him saunter away. 

 

 

Volbin stands there clutching the paper in his hand, his weapons master had returned and bowed deeply, “My lord?” Volbin snaps from his stupor, head shaking and eyes blinking, “Cinnis doubled his offer if I take his daughter as my wife.” He blurts, slapping the paper into his chest, passing him in a flurry of movement. The weapons master struggled to keep up, looking at the paper and tripping on his feet “my lord this is a substantial amount- you said he doubled this?” Volbin waves his hand, “yes I said that!” He barks without malice, “My lord- if I may say?” Volbin glares at the other, clenching his hands against the rails, watching the carriage that brought Regulous take him away from Volbin’s estate. 

 

“I believe you should accept this offer- lord Cinnis is a powerful man to have as an ally.” Volbin presses his lips together, unable to weave through his own thoughts “she wouldn’t trouble you I'm sure, my lord, I believe you should take lord Cinnis’ proposal and benefit yourself. A wives duty is to please her husband of course.” Volbin frowns, letting the idea rattle about his brain.  “Fine. Send my acceptance.” The weapons master nods, “yes my lord right away.”

 

 

 

Chapter 139: AU Volbin dabbles 2

Summary:

Volbin Swiftmoon/Asch Cinnis
Original male character/original female character

Chapter Text

Asch watched through the window as carriages pulled into the gates, hours before she had arrived at Lord Swiftmoon’s estate along with all of her belongings in tow. Asch had yet to see her fiancé, she had been told he was busy working and would be ready for the wedding. 

 

Asch bit her lip, looking around the grounds, there was nothing but grass and stone paths, simple but it lacked the interest she was accustomed too at home. Asch smoothed her dress, she had been ready for hours, her dress was long and soft, her hair was piled atop her head with braids and pins. Asch sighs delicately, lifting herself from the chair “my lady?” One of the maids calls, “yes?” Asch responds, sauntering around the room, “is there anything we can do for you?” Asch shakes her head, “no... I think I shall go for a walk.” Two ladies follow her, holding the train of her dress. The mansion was elegant, the grand stair case was covered in white for the wedding and each vase at the four points of the stairs were decorated with pretty white flowers and roses. Asch took one and rolled the stem in her hand, finding that she liked her new home. 

 

Beyond the stairs was the massive entrance and beautiful doors to the front, on either side of the stairs were long halls that were filled with guest rooms that mirrored the top floor. Asch did not descend the stairs and instead went through the massive entrance behind her, she watched without causing trouble to the servant who were making up the room, past it was another room that was also being treated and cleaned, a beautiful living area that had a truly huge fire place surrounded by lush furniture. 

 

Asch moves beyond the room and finds another grand set of doors, no one has stood her so she presses on the wood until it slides open. Inside was a bed room, it appeared to be the master room in the mansion, the bed was in the middle of the room, but the length of it was pressed to the wall and the canopy was a shimmering gold colour that was tied at each end of the black posts. Asch was delighted in the rooms loveliness, there was a desk beside the end of the bed, but it appeared unused while behind her in the opposite wall of the bed was a fireplace that was long and wide and surrounded by black marble stone with wisps of white and decorative metal that looked stained black with soot from use. 

 

On the opposite wall we’re two rooms, both doors were open and Asch poked her head inside, viewing the bathroom with interest. There was a grand tub elevated and surrounded by cream coloured stairs with taps of gold and short heads that matched. Asch looked inside the walk in and found it mostly empty, seeing a few clothes here and there, which likely were her husbands. Asch barely touched them, but quickly did not let her hand wander for long. Asch wondered if her quarters would look half as nice, mothers did, but mother doesn’t settle for little else but perfection. 

 

Asch continues to wonder exactly who Lord Swiftmoon was, his mansion was made of imposing colours, rather grand and large doors and hallways, but she had heard little of the man himself. What she did know was he was very wealthy, an excellent enchanter and an even more skilled weapons maker, but that only revealed he was dedicated. 

 

Asch wandered about the halls, staring at the walls and and paying little attention to where she walked, “my lady-!” Asch stumbles, but did not fall as she thought she would, someone had stopped her by taking hold of her sides. “My lord!” Her maid squeaked loudly, Asch’s head shoots up and blinks wide, nervous eyes. “O-oh-“ She stammers, looking upon the steeled face. Lord Swiftmoon was looking at her with a measured gaze, golden eyes dark under the low candle light surrounding them. 

 

His hair framed his face in a beautiful teal colour and matched his beard, which covered his whole, strong looking jaw. Asch could feel his hands on her ribs, the slight dig of his fingers hurt but, she barely noticed it as she fanned her eyes across his broad, powerful shoulders. “I... I’m terribly... sorry... my- My lord...” she timidly says, drawing her eyes away from his face. Lord Swiftmoon nods curtly, removing his hands once Asch was standing properly. 

 

 

Asch watches her fiancé leave without a word and feels her cheeks colour as the smell of his sweat invaded her senses, “my lady- its time.” 

 

The backyard was dressed in white and as simple as the front, there were hardly any people and Asch carried herself down the aisle and met Lord Swiftmoon with the priest. Asch had thought the ceremony would have been grand, but she wasn’t displaced by the the intimacy of it. Lord Swiftmoon kept himself away from her while the priest spoke and when the priest tied their hands together Asch felt the heat from his skin, and the tenderness when his lips met hers in a quick and chaste kiss. 

 

The dinner was simple and lord Swiftmoon was silent throughout the meals, sitting by her side leaning back in his chair, observing everyone in the room. He didn’t look interested in anything around them and picked at his food. Asch felt nervous at every sigh he made, evert shift, and every turn of his head. Mother and father had been busy speaking to the limited guests there and had not spoken to her since before they arrived. 

 

Finally lord Swiftmoon rolls his head to look at her, Asch met his gaze, sitting expectantly and smiling gently. He did not seem melted by it and squints at her as if trying to find something wrong with her. Asch almost crippled under his scrutiny, then he glances behind him, and the sound of his chair dragging across the marble made her jump “come,” Asch hurries to stand, both her hands clinging to the arm he extended. Lord Swiftmoon lead her through the private living room and through to the master room. 

 

Asch swallows, licking her lips as he lets her go, circling behind her. Asch couldn’t help but flinch when his warm hands touched her back, his fingers pulling ribbions free, Asch felt the dress slip from her body, but underneath she wore a soft nightdress of pure white and made of silk. 

 

Asch looks over her shoulder and colours as he sees her new husband throwing his clothes off and into the floor, his back stretching with the motions. Lord Swiftmoon glances back at her with hard eyes and Asch  flinches, unsure of what to do, “on the bed.” He says sharply. Asch fidgets on the spot, feeling dizzy and terrified before scurrying to the bed and sitting among the furs, watching her husband remove his clothes. 

 

 

Her husband- Volbin, stalks toward her, kneeling into the bed and regarding Asch as she cowered slightly, shrinking under his gaze, pulling her knees tightly together. Volbin’s hand comes to waist and pulls her, Asch gasps as she falls back into the bed. His hands caress down legs and from the knees, pulls her legs open. Asch shakes, eyes wide and staring at the ceiling as Volbin rests between her thighs. 

 

Volbin's weight pressed down on her, as Asch squirms minutely within his grasp. He wasted no time in peeling her undergarments from her cunt, removing his own just as swiftly. Asch glanced over the curve of her breasts as she lays there, watching his cock spring forth, throbbing just above her cunt.

 

Volbin huffs a few breaths as his cock inches closer and closer to her cunt lips, until the moment it enters her, Asch whimpering as it eases into her. Suddenly Volbin's speed drastically increases, shifting from gently rocking her to vigorously pounding her into the bed. Asch cries out as she feels her thighs become slick with her blood. The scream ripped through the room and her eyes fill with tears and pour over her cheeks, Volbin pulls her leg up, leveraging so he can push into her harder. 

 

Asch wails miserably, eyes squeezed shut and body trembling against the stone figure folded over her. Huffing and panting in a rushed, desperate manner. Asch felt the sheets beneath her become wet, it was tacky and warm she could feel it stain because of her, from the blood leaking from her cunt. Her new husband grunts above her, hissing quietly. Volbin makes the air frost before him from his breaths, letting out sharp grunts as Asch rocks whimpering in the bed. "Almost," he states after some time, forehead beaded in sweat. Asch can feel his cock, each thrust a blast of heat, warming her from the cold air. Suddenly she feels it fill her, his body stiffening as the warm cum seeps into her, his groan is deep and throaty and invades her ear sharply. Finally the flow stops and Volbin draws out, wiping his cock off on her groin. Asch lies there a moment more, knowing she couldn't clean herself, before she dares to ask him, "Should I-I leave, m-my lord?" But when she looks over, Volbin is already asleep.

 

Asch snivels, hand pressed over her mouth so she makes no sound. The throbbing pain between her legs causes her while body to burn and head ache. Asch lays on the bed, the furs, though gentle and soft feel awful against her drawn knees. Asch trembles as she feels blood and his finish seep from her. 

 

Asch cries silently, holding her hands to her mouth, slowly falling asleep. 

 

 

Asch awoke and felt cold and sore, looking for her husband Asch did not find him and trying to stand was difficult to manage, servants had knocked and Asch allowed them inside, and they quickly started to clean, Asch watches a moment as they pulls the sheets from the bed, feeling ill as soon as she sees the pool of blood. Asch shudders and her eyes flutter shut, Asch’s dresses in a beautiful pink gown and saunters from the bedroom, legs stif and heavy. 

 

“Where is my husband?” Asch asks a servant who was dusting the windows, “in his office my lady.” Asch blinks, “will you take me to him...?” The servant hesitates, twirling the feather duster in his hands, “yes- but my lady he doesn’t wish to be disturbed when he’s working...” still the servant takes her, climbing down the stairs and through the grand doors Asch picks her dress up so it doesn’t get ruined from dragging on the grass, beside the mansion there was a much larger compound, it connected to the shipping yard and the servant opens every door for her, a weary and nervous look about him. “His office is there my lady... please be careful- he would be displeased if you hurt yourself.” Asch looks up the steps toward the office, the door was the same black as the house, but everything around it was sliver and made of metal. 

 

Asch gracefully climbs the steps, knocking on the hardwood, her husband isn’t the one who answers the door, “Ah my lady. This is a... great surprise-“ the man steps in front of the door, not allowing Asch to see anything inside the room, she can barely see a grand desk, but little else. “You shouldn’t be here, my lady- we wouldn’t want you to get hurt.” Asch frowns, “I just needed to speak with my husband.” The man nods, but does not move, “yes of course I understand my lady, but now is not the best time-“ “what is it?!” Asch was still getting used to the sound of her husbands voice and jumps at the violent snarls beyond the door. 

 

“Your wife, my lord, she wishes to speak with you.” Asch takes a step forward, making the man stumble back as she enters the room, irritated at the others attempt to shoo her away. “Pardon... my lord-“ his eyes shoot up from his work, a long shining sword rests in the gorgeous table, his eyes are sharp “yes?” Still his voice turns soft, but he continues to work, seemingly paying attention to her. “I... don’t mean t-to brother you- but what- what room shall I... take as my- my own...?” Volbin pauses, a frown etched along his face, “what? Room?” Asch licks her lips, worried she angered him, “I’m... I'm sorry I should have just known-“ “no,” His hands come up, shaking his head, a confused tilt in his brow “what do you mean take as your own?” Asch blinks, slightly baffled “I-It’s... not proper for-for me to share... your bed-“ Volbin glares at her, suddenly Asch feels terrified “you are my wife. It is the most proper thing.” Asch eyes the floor, “I.. I’m sorry I bothered you-“ “you are no bother...” he pauses, “but I am working.” Asch smiles, watching his eyes flash in amusement, “yes my lord- I... I yes. I-I’m sorry- I...” Volbin tilts his head, the barest hint of a smile on his face as Asch spins, feeling a flutter in her stomach. 

 

Chapter 140: Volbin AU dabbles 3

Summary:

Volbin Swiftmoon/Asch Swiftmoon

Enjoy my loves! <3

Chapter Text

Asch felt sick as she sat with her parents, dinner had been served but she did not feel hungry, the head chair was empty and Asch felt very hallow and alone under the scrutiny of her mother. 

 

“Ignoring his guests,” her mother hisses, irritated, beside her, Regulous sighs “his work is important.” Asch watches her mothers gaze shift to her, as if her husbands habits were her fault. “I do hope you enraptured his attention long enough to consummate your marriage.” Asch perks, colouring pink and growing embarrassed as she glare deeply, “Elia enough, the maids brought the sheets to us.” Elia ignored her husband, “then I do hope you won’t be forget to send word once you are pregnant.” Asch nods quickly, “yes mother.” Still it does not satisfy her. 

 

“I heard a disgusting rumour that you will be sharing your husbands bed.” Mother never asked anything as a question, Asch never knew whether to answer or simply listen, but over the many years Asch had realized that her mother expected something to be said regardless. “Y-Yes I... I asked- but my... my lord husband... but- but that was his... wish.” Once more her mother looks at her as if it was her fault “well. I have heard enough.” Asch stands quickly, bowing as her mother elegantly pulls herself from her seat, father follows suit, turning without acknowledging Asch and leaving along with her mother.

 

Asch bites her lip. Watching the servants clear the table, “um-“ they halt as she speaks, looking at her curiously “yes my lady?” One of them offers, Asch fiddles with her dress, feeling small and nervous “I... don’t wish to trouble anyone- but... may- may I have something brought up to... to my rooms...?”  The servant balances the plates in his arms, smiling kindly “it is no trouble my lady, of course. What would you like?” Asch pauses, peering at the plate in his arm nearly full of the food she should have eaten, but didn’t. 

 

The kindness in his eyes was not lost on her, but she still felt terrible for causing the trouble “just something simple- nothing time consuming- or... difficult...” the servant ponders a moment, then nods still smiling “yes my lady, I will have something brought to you once I alert the kitchen staff.” Asch felt rather struck by the thoughtfulness and wondered if the servants were pretending or truly were just being kind. 

 

 

Asch hesitates however, stopping just as she begun to walk toward her rooms, “my lady?” The kind servant asks, half his way to the kitchen “my- my lord husband... wasn’t here- and... I do not think he has... eaten- could you bring him something?” The servant seems to grow excited, “yes of course my lady, right away!” Asch smiles, picking her dress up fro mother floor and hurrying to her bedroom. 

 

Asch lets her maids free for the night and undoes her own dress, the stretch to reach the ties and pull them made her arms ache, but Asch likes not having maids flutter around her. Asch waits for her food to be brought to her in a long, beautiful robe, hiding her nightdress as she sits. 

 

 

Volbin yanks the steel from the furnace, dropping it quickly into the bucket of water beside his legs, huffing in the steam it produces and wiping his forehead with his arm, feeling the grease wipe onto his sweaty skin. Volbin drops his rings onto the wooden table and rubs his hands into a dirty rag, tossing it. Volbin picks up a stack of already shaped and steel, lugging it to another table where one of his workers is already hilting the ends with wood and marking it to make handles with black ink. 

 

 

“Thirty more,” Volbin rumbles, letting them sag in a heap “yes sir,” Volbin returns to the forge, taking his tools in hand again “My lord?” Volbin pauses, looking over his shoulder, confused as he regards the house servant holding a large plate of food in his hand “yes?” The servant smiles pleasantly, gesturing to the plate “my lady was concerned when you missed dinner, my lord.” He places the plate far from his work, but still in the table beside him, “my lady requested I bring you dinner.” Volbin stares at the plate, half full with bread cut in slices and accompanied with marbled cheese, and a bowl that was covered with a cloth, seemingly soup of some kind. 

 

Volbin lets his tools slack in his hands, “my wife asked you bring this?” The servant nods hastily, “yes my lady did, would you like something else?” Volbin dumps his tools into the table, smearing the mess on his face as he tries to wipe it away “no, this is... fine.” The servant bows and dismisses himself leaving Volbin to stare at food across from him. Some of the workers around him and watching him, confused as he was, but Volbin feels a fondness at the fact his new wife was concerned for him enough to request something like this be brought to him on her behalf. 

 

Volbin usually forgets to eat and only when he’s done working does he stalk into his kitchen to take whatever he can find, usually it is bread and dried meat, Volbin barely bothers with anything else. Still, he puts his work aside and grabs a stool not far off and begins to eat the food, the soup was assorted vegetables and chicken and felt delightful to his dried and clogged throat. 

 

Once Volbin had started to eat the workers around him had begun gathering their food and soon nearly all of them put their work aside to eat dinner. Volbin was rather taken aback by the suddenness of them all joining him and made a decision to allow them a break, which he had never thought to provide before. Volbin hadn’t realized how empty his stomach was until it filled with nearly everything on the plate, leaving only a single slice of cheese, which he simply threw away. 

 

Volbin places the plate upon a table not being used and returns to his work, thumb spinning his wedding ring, aided by the grease on his hands. The golden band was completely filthy and Volbin felt bad that he allowed it to get like that, but it also felt strange to take it off, despite only wearing it for a very short time. Volbin looks toward the window was stared at the blackness outside, wondering if Asch was still up. It was fairly late, nearly two in the morning, but she could be waiting for him, he had hoped not because he wasn’t finished and wouldn’t be for another few hours. 

 

Still, with his wife in his mind he works a little faster. 

 

It had been nearing four in the morning and most of the workers had long gone home, Volbin had finally decided what he had done for the day was enough and promptly ordered the day over for those still working. Volbin is the lady to leave and shuts off all the working forges, feel the best die away and the darkness ebb into the room, suddenly feeling the weight of filth upon his skin and growing uncomfortable. Volbin takes the longer way into the house, not wanting to cause much noise and climbs the stairs two at a time, despite how heavy his legs feel. 

 

Being cautious Volbin easing the door to his rooms open, squinting as he looks through the room. The fire was dying away, likely made whenever his wife returned and long since forgotten about. Volbin pushes the door closed with both his hands and waits for the click to signal it shuts, the moves toward the middle of the room, eyeing his bed with a curious look, one that quickly turned into amusement as he sees the state of his bed. 

 

Asch nuzzles under the covers, head sunk into the feather pillow while the furs reached just over her chest. Her arm laid flat over the surface, clutched in her hand was a book, just about to fall from her grasp. Volbin leans over her, careful not to touch the bed with his hand, three fingers he plucks the book from her hand and drops it gently into the desk at the opposite end of their bed. Without making too much noise Volbin saunters into his bathroom and shuts the door with a clink and is filled with the smell of vanilla. 

 

On the counter next to the sink was a tall candle that served as the only light in the room, Volbin knew it was an addition that Asch must have made, but does it find it unwelcoming as it fills his lungs. In fact the candle was pleasant and soothed his headache as he bathed under the stream of his shower, rubbing off all the dirt and grime of the day down the drain. Finally Volbin feels fresh and clean, stopping the water and pulling a towel from the pile sitting on a simple table close by. 

 

Volbin roughly rubs his hair with it, making sure all the excess water lifts from his hair and then run it over his wet skin, dumping it in the linen bin beside the sink. Before he leaves Volbin pulls on a fresh part of sleeping pants, made of loose and short white linen and sighs softly as the smell of the dying fire soothes him. 

 

Volbin pulls the furs back, snorting quietly as he looks at his wife, who had fallen asleep in the middle of the bed. Gentle as he can be, Volbin eases his hands underneath her, carefully rolling her until she was on her side. Asch makes a soft sound and Volbin fears he’s disturbed her, but watches as she squirms under the furs and buried her face into the pillows. Chuckling quietly Volbin pulls the covers over himself, glancing at his wife one last time before closing his eyes. 

 

Chapter 141: Lor’themar/Arthas dabbles 11

Summary:

Lor’themar Theron/Asch Theron

Phew it’s a little short so I promise I’ll have something better for you later!

Enjoy!

Chapter Text

Lor’themar felt the pangs of sleep leaving him, twitching under the strange, yet soft tickles of something like a feather along his neck and shoulder. Swatting his hand nothing was struck but, the tickling continued and finally forced his eyes open. 

 

Lor’themar grunts, staring up at the near blackness of the tree canopy, watching the way the leaves just barely jostle in the wind, exposing the sun, high in the sky. Lor’themar felt the tickle again and snaps his gaze toward it, curious and only slightly annoyed. Asch was on her belly, face calm and eyes shut. Her hair had piled against her head, like a cloud moving in the sky. Lor’themar trails his gaze to what had awoken him. 

 

Between them, a simple, but beautiful sunflower laying tilted toward him, Lor’themar had recognized instantly and took it in his hand, admiring the bright yellow colour. Asch had carried this with her down the isle, he had thought it was lost. Lor’themar places it closer to their discarded clothes, smiling softly at the The disarray beside them. Slowly his gaze folded over his new wife, the blanket reached only half up her back and he was delighted to see the pure, pink skin, how her shoulders looked weightless and the little twitches her ear made as he turned on his side toward her. 

 

Watching allowed him to see how gentle her breathes were, how the barely moved her body and how elegantly motionless she was, like so many marble statues sting the capitol. Lor’themar desperately wished to preserve the peace before him, but could not withstand his new eager and unashamed need to touch. It took only seconds to reach toward her and swipe his palm across her warm back, feeling the warmth and slightly wet skin. Lor’themar felt so excited, all different kinds, and all at once as he caresses her. When he had no hope of her love Lor’themar barely ever touched her, hardly felt he had the right to do so. She was a princess and princess’ to not touch soldiers, he remembers how bright her smile was, how unexpected it was when she took his arm and carried his heart away with her. Nothing had ever prepared him for someone like her, not the rumours he had first heard, or the talk of her beauty. 

 

When Asch came to the castle everyone was in an uproar, the princess promised to Kael’thas, everyone had been so excited to welcome her as queen- even Kael at the time was kind, or so Lor’themar had believed. It didn’t take long for the princess to shine her light upon him and since than they had been nearly inseparable. Yes, excitement had come to him in many forms, but he had not expected the excitement of a new husband would ever be one of them. 

 

 

Lor’themar felt her breathe deeply, watching closely, her face begun to stir and a smile came to his face once he saw her eyes begin to open. Asch had woken up without his confusion, but all the love “good morning,” he whispers so delicately, body thrumming with affection. Asch blinks sleepily, a restful look on her face as she begins to smile, his heart lurched at the sight and Lor’themar could handle their separation no longer and promptly pulled her into his arms. Asch inhales against his neck, settling instantly and Lor’themar almost allowed himself to fall asleep again, before the weight of reality had fell upon his mind with the subtly and gracel of a boulder. 

 

“We will have to go back today,” he knows it to be true, Asch must have as well, because at his mention he feels her deflate, when they return they will no longer be husband and wife, they will be lord regent and princess. Lor’themar had never been one to flaunt his affections in public, it was not proper and he was very private- but the mere thought of no one knowing she was his wife was a cruel pain to bear.

 

Halduron had promised they would not be suspect, it would do no good if Lor’themar had returned with his princess after being gone a night, on the sheet of paper that brought them here, aldo was carefully written plans to return without raising anyone’s suspicions, but Lor’themar did not have the heart to read them yet. 

 

Once they left the safety and warmth of the tree life would be as it always was. Lor’themar would bow to his wife and pretend she was anything else, while Asch pretended to love another man, one who had no interest in her, and they would struggle to survive the war just beyond their doorstep. 

 

At least it had become known that she was staying in the inn, that they could at least hide in the shadows, finding each other would be difficult, but Lor’themar had never lived an easy life. He only feared the nights he would spend alone, knowing there would always be some. What Lor’themar feared the most was if it would always be this way- but he did not allow himself to dwell further on the matter, becoming to sad. 

 

 

“I love you,” Asch whispers against his skin, drawing him from the terrible future. “I love you too,” he says, holding her tightly. 

 

Chapter 142: Aethas dabbles 2

Summary:

Aethas Sunreaver/Original female elf

I’m on a roll with these short chapters!
Sorry about that...

Enjoy for now!

Chapter Text

 

Aethas watched Khadgar go and scowls before sighing “shall we my lady?” Asch blinks up at him, which turns into a scowl but she does not protest as he pulls his arm up. Asch hesitates as she takes it, looking sickly at her own actions. Aethas leads her toward the side where the food is, but she does not seem interested in any of it. “So you were a student of Rhonin?” Aethas asks, attempting to do as Khadgar asked. 

 

Asch hums sparingly, pretending to look over the trays of food present. Her hand has dropped from his arm. “And you are now a student of Kalec?” Again is barely answer him and Aethas sighs angrily “what’s it like?” He bites out, watching her roll her eyes and shrug. “Why am I bothering...” he whispers, thinking she had not heard him, until an angry “excuse me?!” Was hissed. Aethas blinks, slightly horrified with himself, but his annoyance had won out “you heard me.” He decides to bite back, glaring at her as she does him. 

 

“How dare you- you traitor!” Asch snarls in response, Aethas suddenly feels rage boiling beneath his skin, “traitor? Please. I took no part in that incident- despite what you think.” Asch scoffs at this, her face colouring a flushed pink “What I think? It is known!” Aethas makes an exaggerated, curt laugh, throwing his head back for the affect of it “than you would know that I had no part in its theft- that is what is known, my lady.” 

 

Asch is clenching her wine glass, which was almost empty “I am an Archmage you bloodelf scum- one far more accomplished than the likes of you!” Aethas crosses his arms, unimpressed by her insults “I’ve held position in the council of six, unlike you, Archmage.” He draws her title, mocking it wholly as she seethes in fury, he steps closer with cruel eyes “do as you are best, and listen to men who know better.” At this point he is not hearing himself speak and does not acknowledge the utter disbelief and rage upon her face and continues, “I’m sure once you have a cock stuffed in you, you’ll behave properly.” Aethas brushes her fury as simply nothing to fear and smirks in triumph, not realizing what he had done.

 

 

Without a moment of hesitation he feels the cold grip of ice invade his mouth in a thick band that wraps around his head like a snakes vice and his legs grow frozen and he cannot managed to move. No words come from Asch as she darts passed him, but the wine glass in her hand has now shattered to the ground, spilling the remaining contents. 

 

People around hadn’t heard the exchange, but everyone was looking at him now, staring in shock and awe as Asch fled from the Citadel, Khadgar was the first to rush over, dispelling his mouth “what did you do?!” He belts, furious as Aethas has ever seen. Aethas groans, rubbing his frozen jaw with his fingers before sputtering “she wouldn’t speak to me-“ “and she certainly won’t now!” Khadgar barks, but then resigns himself to calm down, huffing as he says “if you want your Sunreaver’s admitted back into the city you will gain her favour-“ “why?!” Aethas finally barks, “she isn’t a council member, she has no say in whether my Sunreaver’s are allowed back- you and the others do!” Khadgar looks as if he wants to shout at Aethas, but he does not. 

 

In fact he looks upon Aethas with hard eyes and a disappointed turn of his mouth “she is only here because I want Jaina to retake her position-“ his eyes narrow “and you know best how little she thinks of you, so you must gain a friend of her friend.” Khadgar says, “decrees are easily undone as they are made and do not think for a moment you and your Sunreaver’s will be safe if Jaina does not find merit in you.” With his speech finished Khadgar passed him, affectively leaving the party without another word. Most look upon them with curious eyes and Aethas knows before tomorrow rumours will be about Dalaran. 

 

With a indignant huff he marches from the Voilet Citadel “Khadgar!” He shouts, watching the older man pause in his hurried steps “where is she?!” Aethas saw attendants take her trunk, but where he did not know. Khadgar looks pleased as he turns, a smile of more than satisfaction upon his lips, “didn’t I tell you?” He starts, a little laugh in his words “she’s staying in your old quarters.” 

Chapter 143: Volbin au dabbles 4

Summary:

VolbinSwiftmoon/Asch Swiftmoon

Enjoy!!!

Chapter Text

Volbin looks over the edge of his paper work, staring at lord Regulous as he examaines the shipping orders. Volbin glares softly, but all things considered is faintly grateful because the orders he was looking over would never have been obtained without Regulous. Though Regulous was benifiting as well, since the moment his marriage was consummated Regulous had made sure to slot himself into the Volbin’s work. 

 

 

“I take your impression of my daughter as adequate?” Regulous says casually, not looking up from his papers, but Volbin can see his brow raise in question. Volbin blinks, mouth agape and unsure of what to say, but musters a nod. Volbin had honestly no impression of Asch, she was timid certainly, but that couldn’t be considered an impression. She was one of the most beautiful women he had ever met thatcwas certain, and looking upon Regulous and his wife he understood exactly how she came to be. 

 

Volbin had thought he could base Asch's personality off her mother, but the two were night and day. Elia Cinnis was a demanding woman, outspoken and easily annoyed, but elegant and beautiful despite it all. Regulous was very much the same, a pushy and cocky man, one how had never been humbled in his life and it greatly showed in his pomp. It was surprising how demure and voiceless Asch really was. She was agreeable, hesitant and tremulous. Volbin supposes those were desirable qualities men search for in wives, desirable to him as well, he muses. 

 

 

“Adequate, yes.” Volbin chooses to say, rather than any of his own choices of words. Regulous looks rather deflated but Volbin didn't feel the need to stroke his ego like everyone else. “Will you be able to handle her if I acquire twenty new accounts?” Volbin scowls sharply, bending the paper so he can fully see Regulous “handle what?” Regulous sighs, placing his work aside and leaning back in the chair “men have wives to have children.” Volbin rolls his eyes “she is my only daughter, Volbin.” His name suprises him, “I did not want a wife.” Regulous’ fury is quiet and composed, “men need children, you require a legacy.” Regulous leans forward, “your son will take your work after you are gone from this world and if you have no one to do so this will desolve.” Volbin inhales noisily, “you have been gifted as no other man has- here.” Regulous drops a thick file that was in his lap, “five new clients. I will be leaving this afternoon. I hope to hear news of you expecting. Soon.” 

 

 

Asch smiles tensely toward her mother, who hardly glances at her, “that colour makes you look sickly.” She muses, holding up a fabric swatch. Asch swipes her hands across the fabric of her dress, it was a dark blue and Asch thought it was elegant. “Yes mother...” her mother peers over, a displeasured curl in her lip “I disapprove of you sharing your husbands bed.” Asch deflates, she had this arguement not long ago “he- he will not allow me a-another...” Asch stares at her lap before she can see the scrutiny in her mother’s eyes “excuses, improper, and deplorable.” Asch nods, “but- but I must listen to h-him mother... he- he is my l-lord h-husband...” Asch was always told to obey her husband, that he would know best and what he said was not to be disregarded. 

 

Her mother looks annoyed, furious in fact, “I suppose it will save him the trouble every night. I expect to hear about a pregnancy within the next few months.” Asch feels winded, as if the air had been knocked from her forcefully, she gulps harshly for breath and feels her thighs ache, “y-yes mother-“ Asch struggles to keep her breathing shallow and unnoticeable, but her mother never misses anything “compose yourself, you look foolish.” Asch colours darkly, nodding frantically, desperately trying to do as she says, her mother sighs in annoyance. 

 

“Your father and I will be leaving shortly,” she says, casually, “do try to capture your husbands attention.” Asch nods, standing as her mother picks her dress up to walk “and find something less putrid to wear.” Asch opens her mouth, feeling the pit of her stomach sink in despair as her mother leaves with her maids in tow. Asch stands there petrified and feeling awful as she always did after a conversation with her mother.

 

 

Asch was not sure what to do, last night Volbin did not return in a timely manner as she thought he would, and she had fallen asleep before he could preform his duty. Asch hadn’t even seen him today, but figured it would be the same as the last, he would come back to bed far later than she could stay up and awaken far before her. Asch bites her lip, fidgeting as the maids carried the fabrics from the room, wondering if he would truly be annoyed if she went to his office like last time. Asch was greatly intimidated by her new husband, he was tall and broad, and his voice made her nervous, but she had a duty to him as well. 

 

Asch could muster a little courage and entice him, she had little to no idea how and she could hardly speak to him, but knowing she had to was enough to get her to leave the room and hurry down the stairs. She passed many workers on her way, watching them smelt or bang their hammers against red hot steel, the sound singing through the air, hurting her ears just as the bright sparks hurt her eyes. The smell was horrid as well, sweat and grease, fire and coals, the warmth was delightful- Asch was always so cold. 

 

Asch hurried up the metal stairs, careful not to ruin her heels or dress, she felt awful wearing the dark blue gown now but had no time in her mind to change because she was worried that if she allowed herself more than a moment she would grow too scared to seduce her husband. The whole thing felt rather silly, but her mother would not wait and Volbin worked so long and so often that it did not seem likely he would become diligent in siring an heir. It was truly strange, Asch had been told so many things and expected to do so much and it only continued to unnerve her. 

 

Asch knocked quickly on the wood and hurt her knuckles in the process, but ignored the sting in her fingers as the door swung open. Asch hopes her husband would have answered, but should have known his weapons master would have been there, as he likely always was. “Ah! My lady, lovely to see you again.” He speaks warmly, but Asch can see it does not reach his eyes at all. Asch smiled anyway, “I wish to speak with my lord husband,” Asch felt a little confidence flush through her as she delivered her words without sputtering, but felt it crumble as the man shakes his head, making a vague noise of displeasure “lord Swiftmoon is very busy, my lady.” 

 

 

Asch swallows, her hands beginning to shake and face bloom in colour “p-please- it’s... it’s im-important-!” The man frowns deeply, eyeing her with mixed annoyance “I’m sorry my lady, but we are far too busy to indulge you this moment.” Asch watches, stunned as he steps away with the door in hand, meant to close it in her face, but Asch in a sudden rush of boldness, squeaks, “My lord!” Pressing her hands upon the metal door, wide desperate eyes seeking her husband, but unable to find him beyond the shield of the weapons master. 

 

There was a sound of papers being rustled quickly, and a chair pushing against wood, “My lord- oh-!” Suddenly the weapons master is pushed from the entrance and her husband, Volbin has taken his place, a curious frown upon his face, Asch blinks up at him, face turning red and hot. Volbin flicks his eyes from her to the side, “this is the second time you’ve attempted to turn my wife away.” His voice grows angry “there will not be a third.” Beyond where Asch can see, she hears the man stutter badly and Volbin no longer seems interested. “Asch.” He says, and sounding much like her mother, it is posed as a statement, but she knew it was a question. 

 

A greeting too, perhaps, the look on his face seems passive enough that it wasn’t meant to be rude, or that he was shooing her away, still Asch feels scared and smiles shakily at him. “I-I thought... we- we could speak-?” Volbin seems surprised by her question and promptly shows, “inside,” he says quickly and simply, pivoting on one foot so she may enter. “Get out,” he commands his weapons master as soon as Asch scurries inside. The office was dark and beautiful, much like the rest of the house, the warmth inside was wonderful and Asch basked in the heat as the door pushed shut. 

 

However there were no windows and the room felt like a box, but it had its charms. In the middle of it was a massive desk completely covered from end to end with paper work, save a small square in the middle where you would directly sit. Besides that there was a cushioned black chair with a tall back and a smaller, matching one that served a guest seat. Far to the left there was a sofa in front of a fire place and another large table in the right corner, and behind the grand chair, a collection of weapons in glass, and little else. 

 

Asch clasps her hands together, feeling them shake, “if- if I-I’m bothering y-you this- this can w-wait-“ it couldn’t but she felt she had already become a pest and felt a little unwelcome here. “I’m waiting on a courier to deliver something, you were not interrupting.” Asch felt a little better “sit,” Volbin says and she watches him round the desk and seat himself in the impressive black chair before her. Asch picks her dress up and hurries to the chair, sitting on the edge of it and kneading the fabric of her dress in worried habit. 

 

 

Asch didn’t think she would get this far, she stares at her hands, not sure of what to say at all. Asch thought she would be turned away, or quickly dealt with by her annoyed husband, not granted an audience by him. Volbin leans forward, hands in front of him clasped together like iron hinges, he sighs softly, “your parents are irritating,” he has no anger behind his words, but softness, “I-I’m sorry-“ Asch sputters, as if it was her fault. Volbin tuts quietly, shaking his head “they are leaving soon...” he pauses, searching Asch as she grows haunted “you will accompany me- until they leave.” Asch’s head shoots up, surprise and relief shown very clearly on her face. Volbin smiles tensely, looking at the ruddy colour on her cheeks and feeling his stomach stir. 

 

“You came here for something. What was it?” Asch feels her lungs collapse and heart squeeze at his question, still having no idea what to say. “I- I-“ he waits, showing amazing patients with her. Asch feels very grateful suddenly, mother would not stand for something like this. “I-I wondered... I- what- what- d-do you... you do...?” Asch felt far too nervous to commit to her original plan, maybe speaking with him would help her gather courage. Volbin pauses visibly at her question, “you want to know what I do?” Asch bites her lip, nodding nervously, fear filling her. 

 

“I create weapons and enchant them.” Asch swallows, waiting for him to continue, but Volbin didn’t and the silence streched badly between them, “o-oh-“ she mutters, “f-for who?” Volbin shrugs at this, “whoever can pay for my service.” He says, then his lips twitch, “my biggest account is the Silver Wings. They're a mercenary company.” Asch gasps quietly in marvel, “wh-what d-do you... you m-make for t-them?” Volbin Suddenly gets up and Asch watches him approach one of the displays behind him, pulling a large, crescent shaped blade from the glass. 

 

“Come here,” Asch felt her legs wobble under her like a new born fawn, she trips slightly, but it’s unnoticeable with her dress. Volbin pulls the weapon in front of him as he returns to his desk, opening his plam toward her, and very surprised when her hand slides into his. Volbin blinks at her, it wasn’t offering his hand for her to take it, more in a gesture that she could approach his side. The contact is not unwelcome and he quickly, gently guided her to his side, letting her see the blade up close. “I make everything for them, but this is a specialized weapon they requested I make.” Her hand was very soft compared to his, her nails tickle his skin but the feeling isn’t unpleasant. 

 

“Is- is it h-heavy?” She asks, Volbin nods “extremely. The Silver Wing company train all their soldiers to carry it.” Asch’s other hand reaches for the handle, her fingers grasp the wood and can’t quite circle the handle completely. “Let me show you,” He says, taking her other hand and placing it properly, using his strength to lift it. Asch feels the warmth from his hands as they cover hers, she feels nearly all the heat from his body radiating from his skin as he stands behind her. 

 

“C-Could you- you always... lift t-this?” Volbin inhales the near intoxicating scent. “Yes.” His nose just barely touched her soft, silk hair, but the urge to bury his nose into it was overwhelming. “It- it’s so h-heavy...” Volbin nods “mhm.” Asch looks down the length of the weapon “is- is it hard to... to m-make?” Volbin steps closer, feeling her dress squish between them, “not at all. It takes longer, but hardly a challenge.” Asch shifts her weight, struggling to stand still from nerves “it- it’s so p-pretty... is- is this the- the f-first you-you’ve e-ever m-made?” Volbin nods, enjoying he feeling of her hands beneath his, it reminds him just how delicate and tiny she truly is. Asch could barely lift the smallest weapons he made, “yes. I keep the first of everything I make.” Volbin was shocked at the genuine interest she held for his work, at first he thought she would bother him with something flippant, but Volbin had made the wrong assumption about her, he supposed. 

 

 

Asch hums, excitedly “h-how is... is i-it made?” Volbin swallows, “first I shape the metal, create the handle and sharpen the blade, and attach the pieces together.” Volbin couldn’t simplify it more than he had, but Asch marvels quietly at his words, as if he explained the most complicated thing in the world. “H-have you e-ever hurt... y-yourself?” Volbin puffs his chest, feeling her shoulderblades press into him. “Barely ever, a few cuts. Nothing serious.” Asch the looks back at him, a worried look etched in her face that made Volbin feel cherished, which also felt so strange. “M-May I... I see?” Volbin blinks, nodding dumbly as he places the weapon on the desk. Once her hands are free as spins between his arms, looking up at him with wilted ears and sad eyes. Volbin presents his hands to her and Asch grabs both of them, thumbing over little raised and pale blue scars. Volbin almost jumps back when the petal softness of her lips press against his palm, it leaves a soft feeling in his stomach. Asch gazes up at him, his wide stare unaffecting her “p-please d-don’t... get h-hurt...” she begs, a pout on her lips. “Mhm.” He practically groans, pulling his hands from hers, leaving close enough their noses touch. Asch’s pretty mouth opens, her shoulders drop and she jumps into him when Volbin pushes the weapon and papers behind her. 

 

Volbin grasps her waist, “put your hands on the desk.” Asch does as he says, tearing her face away and turning, leaning forward, her hands slip on paper, and piles fall over, but Volbin says nothing and rough fingers lift her hair over her shoulder. Asch shivers as she feels his hot breath exhale across her skin and blushes darkly as his lips press into her neck. His hands drag down her sides, fisting the bell of her dress and pulling it from the floor, Asch feels her knees knock together as his warm hands touch her supple skin. Asch jolts, yelping as his hands cup, and squeeze her bottom, the motion causes more papers to fall from the desk. With two fingers hooked under her panties Volbin easily peels them off, letting them fall down her legs. Asch feels embarrassed as his hands return to her bottom, pulling her cheeks apart, Asch feels her legs grow shaky and a terrible thought came over her.

 

 

Was the door locked?

 

 

In a sudden panic Asch grips some sheets of paper, crumpling them “m-my l-lord?!” Asch can hear her voice echo across the room, and feels her husband pause “mhm?” He mutters, barely paying attention “I-is the- the door... l-locked?!” The rustling behind her stops, and there is silence between them for only a moment, then a deep, loud click is heard and Asch stares at the door ahead, “it is now.” Is all he offers, before Asch feels the head of his cock press between her cunt lips. Asch opens her mouth, but quickly snaps it shut as Volbin shoves his entire cock into her. Asch is force forward onto his desk, clambering for purchase, finding none and falling into the wood with just enough grace she didn’t feel completely mortified. 

 

Any words she had died in her throat as he begun fucking her against the desk, the still raw pain coupled with the new makes her eyes grow tears, but Asch does not let them escape her eyes. Asch heard him grunting and panting behind her, his nails dig into her hips as his cock pounds relentless inside of her, a steady, hard rhythm that she was familiar with, but knows she’ll never get used too. Asch keeps her lips pressed tightly together, for fear of being heard by anyone outside the office, she could certainly hear all of them and would take no chances. It was already shameful enough to herself, but if anyone else knew she was bent over her husbands desk like a whore, the idea alone sent waves of embarrassment through her, no telling what she would feel if everyone knew.

 

Small parts of her mind snapped back at her, she wanted this after all, her goal was to seduce her husband, and she had succeeded- but truly her only plan was to ask him to dinner and entice him to return with her to their chambers, not this. 

 

Asch’s ears twitched as the terrifying sound of steps coming up the stairs could be heard faintly. Volbin didn’t seem to notice yet, and did not stop sheathing his cock into his wife, even when pounding knocks came on the other side. Asch felt her face lose all colour and her eyes bulge in panic, she stopped breathing altogether. There were no windows but it felt like whoever was knocking was staring straight at her. Volbin snarls quietly, slowing his pace “fuck off!” He barks, rage and danger laced in his intimidating tone. Asch felt herself tremble under him, his hands smack down onto the desk on either side of her, the sound boomed across the room and Asch waits in horror until the door opens and she’s seen. 

 

Volbin purrs in delight, Asch gasps abruptly, the noise forced itself through her, the paper feels rough against her hands and the desk cold against her breasts. Volbin’s hips still and his finish spills into her. The warmth of her husband retreats with him and gracefully with his departure he rights her gown, letting it fall to the floor and cover her again. Asch rights herself, shoulders pinched and eyes staring at the mess she made upon his desks crumple sheets and and tore papers, the weapon nearly fallen on the floor.

 

Asch wipes the front of her dress and bites her lip, feeling his finish run down her thighs. Asch spins slowly, eyes not able to reach her husbands face “m-my l-lord.” She bows her head, but Volbin catches her chin, pulling her sight to him, “I will see you at dinner.” 

 

 

Asch felt butterflies in her stomach as Volbin escorts her out of the office, making sure none saw the state of his desk. Asch stands on the landing just before the steps as Volbin holds the knob of his door “that colour...” he begins, gaining her attention “it looks... pretty on you.” Asch beams and Volbin smiles small, turning quickly and leaving her to blush and nearly giggle. 

 

 

Asch scurries away feeling lightened and happy, sore between her thighs but it did not dampen her mood. As she returned to the house, Asch found most of the servants were at work and one of them caught her attention, “My lady,” he bows, holding stacks of papers “yes?” She says, smiling. The servant smiles at her “the day is late my lady, but tomorrow I have any pressing things for you to review.” Asch blinks, rowing curious, but then realizing it was her duty to care for Volbin’s house. “Oh- oh yes of course...” 

 

The servant quickly leaves her, and purpose is full inside her. 

 

Chapter 144: Volbin au dabbles 5

Summary:

Volbin Swiftmoon/Asch Swiftmoon

Enjoy!

Chapter Text

Her husband did not seem to be in the house and servants were busy with cleaning now, the house manager had found her and begun telling her what must be done waiting for Asch to tell him exactly how as she ate. “My lord has several invitations, my lady,” he says, taking the stack of artfully folded parchments from his folders, placing them next to her on the table. “There are twelve parties, three lunches and one dinner request.” Asch felt woozy as he spoke, biting her lip as she took hold of them all. “Might I suggest throwing a party here? So you do not have to attend so many?” Asch shakes her head quickly “no-“ she bites but then feels terrible for doing so “I will attend these.” Volbin would not appreciate having people here, especially if the party runs late and he returns home. The last thing her lord husband needs is people pestering him after a long day, and he would not be happy with her if she did such a thing. 

 

The house manager looks worried at this “it is quite too many my lady- today alone you would have to attend one lunch, dinner and party...” Asch smiles at his fretting for her, but declined his advice still “I will attend them, it is no trouble.” At her words he concedes, nodding quietly before seating himself beside her, opening the invitations. Already Asch has begun to feel tired. 

 

 

The first was a lunch for them both to attend, a gracious client of Volbin’s who wished to thank him for his work. “I’m sorry my lord husband could not be with me, Lord Hel’wen he is ever busy with work.” Despite her excuse, Lord Hel’wen chuckles warmly “as I’ve always known him. Busy and brooding. I’m sure my lady makes him happy however.” Asch smiles falsely, nodding eagerly “as one can only hope.” His hand begins to wave off her words, “you are too modest, why my lady I dare say your the only beam of light in that mans home.” Asch wavers a little, nodding without a word, her throat too constricted to even try. 

 

“Is your marriage coming along?” The question was far too prying and Asch knew his real question, but still she answers, worried that if she did not please him Volbin would lose his business “yes coming along just fine!” Her enthusiasm has the lord chuckling “such sunshine, refreshing as always, my lady. So young and pretty as well, Volbin is quite lucky.” He pauses to sip tea “I’m sure by now he’s gotten you full of his child?” Asch hesitates and the man can see it “we’re trying, it is too soon to tell...” Lord Hel’wen pats her hand like a child, “it’s alright dear, the fault is likely with you, but don’t be discouraged- you’re bound to give him something one day.” The words hung in the air bitterly and Asch feels herself shivel terribly, wilt like a flower under his happy smile. 

 

Despite his poisonous words, Asch smiles but it shakes and he does not seem to notice at all as he sips his tea, pleasant as though he did not speak such painful words at all. Suddenly however Lord Hel’wen hums in thought “I suppose your husband is too busy for you. Shame, maybe I should lessen my orders so he has time to spend with you.” Asch feels her heart panic in her chest at his barely concealed threat “no- no my lord, my husband isn’t!” She insists, but he seems settled in his decision, Asch continues desperately “it is me, my lord,” at this he seems intrigued, “You are right, the fault is mine- I- I’ve been trying so hard- nothing will catch-“ she presses out the words, feeling the weight of embarrassment upon her “I-I-“ her words are strained and suddenly he is cooing, but not in a comforting way at all, in a way that feels to Asch he had gotten just what he wished to hear “now now, little sunshine it’s alright, if you cannot give your husband children I’m sure he finds your company enough.” He says, but he is cruelly smiling at her “besides, his business will be well taken care of, even without a son to inherit it.” The humiliation was almost enough crush her, but better the rumours say Asch could not get pregnant than Volbin’s inability to get her pregnant. 

 

 

Lord Hel’wen takes her to the carriage she came in, helping her inside and petting her hand once more in mock care “Ah- I almost forgot, please if you would, give this to your husband- the next you see him of course.” Asch takes the roll parchment, not missing his final insult as he closes the door. Asch does not wait until they have pulled a safe distance before covering her face and sobbing outright. It was a cruel thing to hear, much less to stomach with a smile as she has, but as always she must. First it was father, how she had to maneuver the battle field of insults and double-meaning when those who spoke to her wished to pry into their lives, find weakness so they may force it to rot the rest of their house. 

 

Asch was smart though, As she had to be, sacrificing herself so her father did not have too. She believed she wasn’t shielded than, that she had no one to protect her from their words of poison. Asch had thought once she was married no one would dare try such things and how wrong she had been. It was even harder now than it had been, now she had to uphold her husbands house and fathers, the latter she was not doing very well. Asch could not allow rumours about her husband, but in protecting him, she was dismantling herself and father would not be happy to hear the whispers of her failings to become pregnant, or now that it was her at fault for it and make house Cinnis look foolish and weak. 

 

A terrible thing to endure, and Asch pretended that if Volbin had been here, he would not allow such a thing to be said to her and gallantly defend her honour, despite his business with the man and wipe her tears away and promise the world would never be so cruel again. 

 

But he was not, and Asch wipes her own tears. 

 

Volbin stares at the sword in front of him, hand poised around the blade as magic frizzled around it, workers were moving weapons onto his desk, most by the racks next to him and Volbin sighs, finally settling back into his chair. The sword was glowing alive and finished. “Whose order was next?” He slurs, tired, his weapon master flips through sheets, musing over the list “Lord Yulon’s I believe. Forty swords with frost enchantments.” Volbin sighs heavily, pressing his palms into his eyes, rubbing them down his face. 

 

Volbin looks at his hands, the mess on his hands that must now be on his face, he see the dull glint of his golden ring and muses for a moment. His thumb touches it, pressing on its surface. Biting his lip Volbin makes a decision “I’m leaving early today. Let’s finish this order and go home.” The weapons master perks excitably, “yes of course!” 

 

Asch doesn’t drink her wine as she stands in heels, feeling them dig into her feet as she listens to Lord Gell’s wife speak of her gardens “my girls love picking the roses- Asch do you have a garden?” Asch is drawn out of her thoughts suddenly “oh- yes? Um- no. Well...” the girls laugh and lady Gell looks rather smug “I’m sure her husband uses it as a weapons yard.” Asch frowns as they laugh at her “is he as dedicated to you as he is those precious swords?” Lady Gell titters, as the ladies snicker “oh yes? Is he? I hear he’s as cold as steel!” Before Asch can say anything Lord Gell, whose party this was approaches, laughing humbly “steel can always be melted, my ladies.” Asch twitches, barely smiling at his words “I’m sure lady Swiftmoon isn’t displaced without a garden, like you my love.” Lady Gell looks furious at her husband for a split moment but masks it as Asch looks at her. 

 

“Yes of course. You must be something if he agreed to marry you in the first place.” Lord Gell looks uncomfortable with his wife’s words, “your husband does fine work. I will have to speak with him later about more orders.” Asch blinks, pleasantly surprised “oh thank you, my lord husband will love to speak with you.” Lord Gell beams, “I’m sorry he couldn’t be here- he’s working yes?” Asch nods, glad that at least someone isn’t upset he wasn’t here, or that she didn’t have to lie about his whereabouts. 

 

“He’d have too- wouldn’t he Asch?” Lady Gell bites, “too afford such lavish dresses. And to think he gives you so much and you can’t provide a son-“ “La’ra that is enough.” Lord Gell snaps, this time Lady Gell does not school her frown “my lady walk with me?” Asch watches Lady Gell fume angirly as Asch takes the arm of her husband “I am terribly sorry, my lady.” Lord Gell leads her into the his wife’s gardens. “It is alright-“ “no it truly is not. Ladies with children love to gossip about those without.” Asch watches as they pass the garden and slowly make their way to the carriages, confused she looks at him “you’ve been here long enough. Go home, give this to your husband.” He passes papers to her, helping her into the carriage, “and my lady?” He says, getting her to turn “don’t think you must rush this. It took La’ra and I seven years before our first.” Asch felt drained despite Lord Gell’s very kind words and defence, at least there was one kind heart among them. 

 

 

As she got inside, Asch, very unlike herself, step out of her heels and sighed in relief. A house attendant had taken them quickly as she walked through the grand hall “my lady,” her house manger says happily, smiling as she attempted too look grateful “please give these to my husband next you see him,” Asch says, holding the papers out for him to take, the house manger hesitates a moment, then smiles “you may give them yourself, if you please my lady.” Asch frowns, but before she can speak he adds, “he awaits your presence in the dining room now.” 

 

 

Asch pulls up her dress so she can walk easily up the stairs, the archway was grand and tall and it opened to the dining room. Volbin was standing by the head chair, musing until he saw Asch approaching, he looks at her up and down, appearing surprised at her dress before speaking “I’ve had dinner made for us.” His smile was small and he gestured toward the already pulled out chair, Asch smiles glad to sit finally after hours of standing. “These are for you,” she says, pushing the papers toward him. Volbin looks at her curiously before unrolling the document lord Hel’wen had given her. 

 

“Hel’wen is reducing his order...” Asch feels herself grow cold, mortified and upset all at once. Asch looks at the food in front of her completely ashamed as Volbin reads over the letter, ignoring his own. Gently she picks at the roasted boar in front of her. Volbin tosses it onto the table, yanking the other from its spot and reading it, Asch shrivels in her seat as she hears him sigh angrily “how did you come upon these?” He asks, voice rough and strained, but then, “do you not like it?” Asch blinks, nervous as he watches her now, brow drawn up “no- no I...” she swallows, lip shaking “I’ve had... two d-dinners... today I- I’m sor-sorry...” Volbin blinks, then his eyes draw toward her dress “you... were invited to lunch with... lord Hel’wen- I- I thought I... I’m sorry I must- I must have caused him... him to reduce his order.” Asch would not let herself cry “and- and I had dinner and there- there was a party I thought Lord Gell- I’m sorry I cost you those...” Asch felt herself sink into despair and thought back to how she believed her failure was only in upholding her family and now she had not only made a fool of herself but cost Volbin business. 

 

Asch had prepared for him to rage, to yell at her, but there was nothing. “It isn’t your fault,” he says with a gentle sigh, pushing the papers away “Gell is increasing his, there are no losses... I wish I would have known you’d eaten.” Volbin mutters to himself, “but I suppose I wasn’t around...” there was a long pause before Volbin pulled something out for under the table, it was a large box, one made of carved wood and leaves “I.. apologize for being as absent as I have. I hope you can forgive me...” Asch watches carefully as he presses the box closer with two fingers. 

 

Asch pulls her hands from where they were shaking in the table and unclips the latch on the box, lifting the to revel a necklace, the centrepiece was that of a amethyst the size of Volbin’s closed fist, surrounding it were smaller, circle shaped diamonds, the size of a gold coins. Asch marvels at it “I asked them to find something nice for my wife, but I suspect they only wanted me to buy something expensive.” Asch cannot form words as she stared at the amethyst glittering surface, partially able to see herself in the flat face of the amethyst “I....” she looks up at him, Volbin finds something amusing about her expression because he was smiling softly “may I put it on you?” Asch cannot find her voice as Volbin takes the necklace from the box, the massive amethyst fit in his hand perfectly as he carried it, taking the clips in his fingers and pulling it open. Asch is too stunned to move as he places it on her breast, she had thought it would have been heavy, but there is not weight as it settles. 

 

“It’s enchanted,” he mutters into her hair, smiling softly against it, Asch touches the face of the stone, “do you like it?” Asch nods eagerly, but before Volbin can sit down beside her again, Volbin weapon master hurries in, distraught and frazzled “my lord- there’s... an order from-from the Wardens- they-“ Asch deflates as her husband rushes over, examining the papers. Asch feels her chest cave at the sight of him whispering to the weapons master, muttering how large and complex the order was. 

 

Volbin glances up at his wife, than the papers, but then his eyes shoot back at her and suddenly something dawned on his face, but Asch simply smiles, masking the hurt she feels “I- I’m tired... it’s alright...” Volbin does not see the pain in her eyes as he nods, “my lord, everything is ready for you.” Volbin nods curtly, quickly vanishing through the door, Asch hesitates, looking at the food on the table, before picking it up quickly and desperately trying to hurry “my lord!” She squeaks, gaining the attention of the weapon master, but not her husband. “My lady?” He says in confusion, Asch colours, suddenly feeling silly, but persists “my- my lord husband hasn’t eaten- please make sure that he does?” The weapon master looks at the plate in her shaky hand and smiles gently “of course my lady, I will see that our lord does.” 

 

Asch stays atop the stairs well after they both have gone, heart feeling fond but lonely. It is only after she heard the servants clearing the tables in the dining room does she finally feel the weight of fatigue and begins to wearily climb the remaining steps to their bedroom. 

 

At first she did not think to bother with her dress, feeling too tired to remove it, but decided it would do no one any good if she wore it to bed. Undoing it herself was a bit of a challenge, but once she had gotten her hands on the bow tying her bodice it was easy to pull the whole thing off and let it sink to the floor in a pile. Asch felt frozen as she stood in the room, the fire was long extinguished and she had no idea how to start another, but she was far to exhausted to call servants. Asch searches her closet, finding a nightdress and quickly pulling it on, she did not have any that went passed her upper thighs and shook from the cold as she scampered toward the bed, freezing as she pulled the furs over her.

 

 

Asch dives under the covers, feeling alone and cold. Not for the first time missing her husband and his overly warm body. She did not even have to touch him to feel his heat and delightfully accepted the sweltering warmth he exuded seemingly at all times. Asch had wondered if it was from years of being in front of a forge that made him so warm, or if he had just been like that always. In any case, she missed it as she shivered under the layers of furs, but far to tired to stay up any longer and slowly fell asleep, shaking from the cold. 

 

 

Volbin had forgotten when they had started, but knew it was nearly three in the morning when they stopped. He felt filthy as he returned to the main house, grease in hair and hands, dust and soot covering his skin. Knowing he could not stand to sleep like this he quickly entered the first guest room he found and turned the taps on to the bath, not waiting until it was full. The room was lit by a single candle and Volbin went about cleaning every part of himself, wincing at a bad cut he accidentally reopened in his hand. Volbin looked at the water, cloudy with blood and dirt and undid the cap holding the water in and simply begun washing himself under the stream of taps as it fell rather than sit in the filth any longer. 

 

As he cleaned his hair Volbin begin to let his mind wander to his wife, something that had begun to happen more often as the months dragged along. They hadn’t been married for long, but Volbin had already forgotten how long it had been since the wedding. Her father was eager, but Volbin couldn’t quite remember why he agreed in the first place. Regulous was a weathly man and he certainly paid Volbin well, but Asch. 

 

Volbin remembers thinking before they had met that there was most definitely something wrong with Regulous’ daughter, why would he insist so vehemently they get married if not? But when Volbin had finally met her, he was stunned by everything she was. Asch was not only beautiful, but Volbin could not find a single thing out of place, not in her mind or her behaviour. She was perfect as Regulous had promised she would be. 

 

Asch did not ask anything of him, a fact he found greatly odd since he knew most noble ladies had that in common. Asch was neither bratty or angry when he worked or chose work over everything else, she was rather compliant with his whims. 

 

Volbin fiddles with his ring again, making sure it was getting under the stream of water so it would clean properly as he lost himself in thought. Asch, he had truly thought would be irritating, a hindrance upon his work and Volbin had even considered if she had been to give her back to her father, but she barely left an impression upon him, her presence a feather between his fingers, soft and fleeting and oddly pleasant. 

 

The most time he had spent with her was at night in their bed beside each other, he remembers faintly that she had asked where he would prefer her to sleep and he remembers being awful to her and snapping how ridiculous it was of her to ask such a thing, despite the look on her face, which she had quickly hid from him, Volbin was glad he had not let her have a separate room, Volbin had become accustomed to sleeping next to her and he would feel something lacking now if she wasn’t. 

 

 

Volbin turns the tap sighing, rubbing his wet face before grabbing a towel. His hair was still damp but Volbin didn’t care as he tied the towel around his waist and left his dirty clothes in the guest bath, wondering if the servants would discover them tomorrow or never. Walking through his estate made him feel the absence in the halls, a place to large for just one person, though he had never felt that way before. Maybe it was the darkness or maybe it was the weight of his wedding ring, but Volbin hurried to the master bedroom to avoid the feeling of loneliness. 

 

When he came the door he could see no light under the crack and wondered if she had even come back to their bed, but then quickly discarded the idea, because, truly where would she be if not? Volbin eases the door open, not making a sound as he entered and closed it behind him. The fire was not on and Volbin felt the dress Asch wore tickling his feet as he barely stepped into the room. Volbin picked it up from the floor and felt the silk of it, with it so close to his face he could smell his wife upon the fabric and took comfort in the gentle scent of flowers before he settled the dress on a chair next to the fireplace. 

 

 Finally he glances toward his bed, which had never been so homely before and saw Asch, a little thing curling in a large bed. Volbin quickly and quietly came closer, seeing her sleeping soundlessly on her side of the bed, shivering violently. Her hair had fanned out wildly around the pillows, it was long enough that it even invaded his pillows, but Volbin wasn’t displaced by such a thing, he idly mused he wouldn’t be even if her whole body had taken his place in the bed. 

 

Careful not to disturb her, Volbin lifted the blankets and undid the towel around his waist, finally resting for the day, but found he could not sleep. Turning on his side he watched her teeth jitter lightly and her body vibrate from the cold, most of her pretty skin was covered in gooseflesh and her face was twisted in pain. Volbin snaked his hand over her flat belly, feeling how cold she really was and admired the softness of her nightgown before shimming closer to the middle of the bed. 

 

Asch weighted nothing to Volbin and he could easily turn her, watching the furs twist as he did so, Asch did not wake and Volbin presses his hand in her back, gently pushing her into his embrace. Parts of her that weren’t supported lulled as he moved her. Her arm had become pressed between their bodies and her right hand, which had been resting on her pillow had come to settle under his chin, while her head had arched back and exposed her delicate neck. 

 

Around her neck was the necklace he had given her, despite making him smile it appeared to have been rubbing her neck raw and Volbin carefully undid it, knowing that it would hurt in the morning, carefully placing it on the end table did not help with the noise it made as it impacted the wooden surface and Volbin winced and quickly turned his gaze back toward Asch, who just barely twitched at the sound. Asch had shifted closer, her legs pressed into his. 

 

Volbin makes a soft noise of pleasure as he feels her nightgown bunch around her thighs, softly caressing his groin and slightly hard cock.

 

Volbin’s breath hitches as he looks at her breasts, pressed together by her arm and how she was laying on her side. Volbin presses on her back again, pulling her up and closer. Asch makes a soft noise as Volbin gently buried his face between her breasts, inhaling sharply against her skin as his cock is caressed by the silky softness of her nightgown. Volbin can feel her soft thighs pressed together with the head of his cock, groaning softly as he thrusts against her lower belly. Volbin pulls his face away from her chest, looking at her face as she softly mutters, and her eyelashes slowly draw open.

 

“I’m sorry,” Volbin whispers, “I didn’t mean to wake you.” Asch blinks slowly, “Hm- W-w-what did y-“ Asch looks down and sees his bare hips and where they lie against her, “Oh!” She exclaims, blushing and shrinking in upon herself. “Shhh…” Volbin assures her, “I just saw you and I couldn’t help herself.” Volbin’s face reddens in response to what he said, as Asch looks up into his eyes. “N-no, it’s o-okay,” Asch says, blinking at her own words, “I-I want to m-make you h-happy.” “And I you,” Volbin says, smiling at her as he lifts her up over him, until she rests straddling around his cock. Asch peers down at him, fidgeting and hands slipping over his breast, Volbin holds her hips still, his cocks head between her petal shaped and pink lips. Asch gulps as she slowly lets her weight carry her down onto Volbin’s cock. “Ah-!” Asch whimpers as she feels her cunt filling with him, the stretch painful and raw.  “Mmm…” Volbin hums, warmth spreading quickly through his entire body. He begins to undulate his hips with her, grinding against her body as his cock pushes in and out of her.

 

Asch leans forward, arching over him as she braces her hands on Volbin’s shoulders, and lets him rock her with his body. Her ass hit against his thighs with every pump, letting a pleasant clap hit Volbin’s ears and bringing him to move their bodies faster. Asch’s thighs were soft and plump, sliding along Volbin’s hips as she feels him shudder. Volbin felt Asch squeeze his legs harder, as she falls onto him and he rises to meet her one last time, before his warm cum burst into her. “Hah-” Asch whimpers, letting her body go limp on top of him as Volbin finished and lay panting beneath her.

 

Asch quickly gets off him, knowing that this was when Volbin wanted to turn over and go to bed, and she did not want to disturb or delay him. Until she feels the soft touch of a cloth on her legs, and looks up to see Volbin slowly cleaning her off. Volbin smiles at her, before he tosses the cloth aside, and kisses her on the forehead. Volbin lies back down, gently easing her down alongside him, before pulling the furs over her, and resting his face in the nape of her neck.

 

Chapter 145: Volbin au dabbles 6

Summary:

Volbin Swiftmoon/Asch Swiftmoon

Enjoy!

Chapter Text

Asch stares off at nothing as she holds fabrics in her hands, suddenly jostled from her thoughts of nothing by giggling. “Oh that is pretty!” Lady Melleina had invited Asch and her husband to tea, but it had quickly turned into a shopping for dress fabric when the other ladies in lady Melleina’s company had squealed for it. 

 

“Isn’t it pretty?” Lady Melleina gasps, rubbing her hand through the sheer blue fabric Asch barely held in her hands. Asch sighs, smiling kindly at the woman before her, despite not being interested. The invite had been for Volbin and Asch to partake in tea with lord and lady Melleina, but since her husband was absent the lord has excused himself and it had quickly turned into a gossip filled gathering of Asch and the lady Melleina’s friends. Though, Asch had little to gossip about, they had plenty. 

 

“Your husband would love this colour upon you!” Lady Melleina says, pulling a yellow bolt of cloth toward Asch “feel how soft it is!” She urges, too Asch’s dismay. Still she does as asked and touched the fabric, feeling the feathery like softness. “Oh Asch- tell us what lord Volbin is like?” Another lady begs suddenly, clapping in excitement and envy, the others join in “oh yes do please?!” Asch grows hesitant “he is... very kind to me.” Lady Melleina titters at this, “I heard from lady Eva that he bought a most expensive necklace for you- is it true?!” Asch has not worn it since the night Volbin had given it to her, not that she wasn’t grateful, but it was far to pretty to wear to simple dinners and lunches. 

 

“Yes it is true.” The ladies squeal in adoration “what is he like- tell us truly! I’ve only ever heard he is strict and timely!” Asch feigns looking through the fabrics, smiling softly to herself, he had his moments of romance and gentle kindness, but she would not share that with anyone. “He is only ever,” she muses, to their disappointment, which they all share. “You’ve been married for almost a year- do you think he will do something grand for your anniversary?!” Asch did not think he would, she mused that he may not remember and that did not upset her. She did expect someone to remind him and something would be given to her on his behalf, but Asch was not interested in trinkets so much as she was his company. 

 

“One would think so,” she says instead of sharing her secret hopes, the girls giggle “don’t you think it would be a grand present to him if you had a little one on the way?!” Lady Melleina says, and the girls all hum eagerly in agreement. At this Asch falters in mood, feeling rather displaced at the question “indeed it would be,” she presses out with pain in her chest. “Are you? Do you know? I can hardly imagine a man like him finding the time for such duties!” Asch grows cold as their words begin to edge with knives, their laughter beginning to prickle her skin. 

 

“My husband fulfils all his duties.” It would do no good for these women to gossip about her husband failing in their marriage, their husbands may begin to believe he lacks in more than just his duties to his wife. 

 

Most men do not quit tormenting their wives with their affections until it can be confirmed they are with child, Asch had expected the same treatment just as her mother had told her. Mother said father came to her chambers every night since their wedding until she was full with Dyon after their first three months of marriage, and then father had become absent until his whims decided upon more children. But Asch had assumed many things about her marriage, and she had been wrong. Asch should not have been sharing her husbands bed every night as it was greatly improper, but every night since her wedding Asch was allowed no place else. 

 

Volbin had not taken to diligently attempting to sire his heir, which Asch had thought very strange, she could not say that his affections were unwelcome like most wives. Asch had only ever been told it would bring her pain each time and pleasure to her husband, but she found he was rather gentle, there was still tightness and a soreness, but he did not hurt her more than he had too. 

 

In all her assumptions, Asch had assumed she would not like Volbin, as mother had promised. Mother did not like father, she had a duty to him and nothing more, they did not spend time together and did not speak unless it was necessary, Asch had been told time and again that she would obey her husband but not like him, that she would love his children but little else.

 

Asch had been surprised when she begun to feel fondness in her when his name was spoken, how the sight of his hair made her well up inside with affection, or how simply the warmth of his presence gave her assurance. Asch had not expected any of it at all, and frankly it made her all the more nervous around him. 

 

 

The girls giggle loudly at her, “he’s very tall- isn’t he Asch? Much taller than my husband- much bigger looking too- doesn’t he look big girls?” Lady Melleina laughs with a knowing smirk “isn’t he big Asch?” Asch frowns, and does not hide it as she looks at them, “I will not answer such a thing!” Asch snaps, but they keep laughing “oh come now it’s only fun! Tell us a story- unless you’re  embarrassed to say... is he little? He must be if you will not say!” The girls shriek and scream in laughter at the lady’s words. 

 

Asch whirls around and the fury she felt must have matched her face because they all begin to stop laughing “my husband is none of your concern lady Melleina and if you are so bored of your husband look else where for amusement!” Asch whirled out of the room in a flurry of skirts, only as she hurried out to her carriage did she forgot Volbin had business with lady Melleina’s husband. 

 

Asch panicked as the carriage pulled from the house, wondering if lady Melleina would tell her husband that Asch had insulted her and if her husband in response to it would pull his orders. Maybe lady Melleina wouldn’t say anything considering she had been asking about things she shouldn’t have been, but she could lie and the girls would agree and Asch would look unladylike and rude, or however they would decide to paint her. 

 

Asch cupped her face and scrubbed her eyes, sighing irritably “I want to go home!” She snaps loudly to the driver steering the carriage. She has another party to attend but she would much rather lay in bed and throw her heels at the wall. Of course she would do neither, but she liked to think she would. 

 

Asch did however begin to pull open the wine bottle that sat in one of the seat rests, she had never opened it, having never liked the taste. Asch poured a large glass and begun swallowing it seconds later, not letting it linger on her tongue too long. It was bitter and she winced at the flavour before pouring another. The full bottle became half before she felt herself feel the dizzying affects she hated so much. Asch tried not to drink very much, not liking the state it placed her in or the taste of alcohol for that matter. She did not like looking foolish and that is exactly what drinking did to people, they became wobbly and loose with their tongue and Asch would not allow herself to do such things.

 

 

But as they came upon the steps to her home Asch felt a little better. The world around her became a little hazy, but she walked properly despite the pain in her feet and climbed the stairs without issue.  Asch sighs without reason, feeling a little lighter, in her mind she knew she hated it, but longed for something to make her feel better, to not have to play the games all day with people she despised. Asch tugs her hair free of its bun and shakes pins from her hair down the hall to her bedroom, uncaring that they were littering the floor. 

 

Asch didn’t know when, but servants begun running behind her to pick each one up and felt terrible as she always did. Asch felt like an invasion, and inconvenience, even in her own home. Mother taught her that she was small and should cause no trouble, but she was. To the servants, to Volbin, to his work. She was suppose to make his life easier but she had been losing clients, taking up his time, and worst of all she could not get pregnant. 

 

Asch felt tears fall down her cheeks and she pushed open her grand doors, shoes falling off her feet as she clutched her hair, Asch pressed herself onto the frame of their bathroom and sobbed outright before she heard the rustling of servants close behind, “get out!” She snaps, sliding down the frame of the door, shoulders shaking as she heard the hurried steps and the gentle clap of the door. 

 

Asch struggles to take her dress off but manages it somehow and roughly jerks the handles to the bath on, sitting on the marble steps at it filled with hot water. Asch sinks into it before it had fully filled and clutched her knees to her chest, crying quietly.

 

 

Volbin tiredly trudges into the main house, once again feeling dirty and run down, his ears pressed to his skull as his head pounded behind his eyes. Bath and sleep. Volbin took comfort in the two remaining things he had to do for the day as he climbed the stairs, suddenly blinking at the five maids hurrying down the steps “what’s this?” He says to them, brow furrowed. One hesitates, but stops, Volbin watches the rest leave. The girl kneads the fabric of her dress, biting her lip as she stared at the floor, “our lady did not have need of us my lord.” She says quickly and respectfully, but looked nervous and unsure.

 

Volbin scowls, “and?” She folds in on herself “she- my lady was upset, my lord. She asked us to leave.” Volbin turns his gaze toward the hallway where the master bedroom was, puzzled as he waved his hand “thank you that is all,” he mutters, listening to her hurry away as he stalks up the stairs. Their bedroom was passed the dinning room, two steps up and then passed private living rooms. Volbin did not use either very much, but did like how deeply his room laid in the castle. Everything was beautiful and tasteful, nothing Volbin had picked himself, but he did not much care for anything in the house. As he passed the living room he could see the lights were on in their rooms and Volbin cautiously came inside, noting that her shoes had been properly placed but not put away.

 

Volbin could hear the water running and as he came to the door, faintly he could hear crying. Without another thought he opened the door and saw Asch sobbing quietly into her hands, knees pressed tightly to her body and water filling the tub almost to the rim. Quickly Volbin hurried to the taps and twists them off, without the sound of the rushing water Asch jolted up, staring with absolute fright and horror. 

 

“Oh- my- my lord I- I didn’t know you-“ quickly she wipes her face, pretending as though she wasn’t crying at all. “You- you must be tired and- and- dirty- I... I will-“ Volbin did not know what to say until Asch had begun to get out of the bath “no stop it’s- it’s alright” he says, “what’s happened?” At his inquiry new tears begun to fall and Asch slips back into the water, “I- it’s... it’s nothing-!” She tries to smile for him, but there is only pain and hurt in her eyes. Volbin rests on the steps, frowning.

 

“I- I won’t trouble you-“ “it is not trouble” He insists, “I asked. Tell me,” Asch’s lip quivers for a moment “I... I have g-given you nothing but trouble,” she moans, so sadly that Volbin feels a twist in his stomach at the wretched sound. “I have l-Iost you clients, an-and wasted- wasted your time a-and I cannot give you c-children- I- I am si-simply trouble-!” Asch wails, staring at the water and Volbin watched her tears fall into it. 

 

Volbin pulls his hand from the side and takes her chin in it, Asch stares at him with wide, terrified eyes and Volbin can see dirt smear along it “you are no trouble.” He insists, sighing “I had no use for a wife- I took you because your father paid me far too much.” Volbin can feel her tears fall down his fingers, but he wipes her cheek tenderly, “and you have changed my mind, do not be sad.” Asch smiles around his fingers, but she shakes and Volbin pulls his fingers through her hair. 

 

Volbin pulls a towel from the side “come, I will join you soon.” Asch takes the towel and Volbin helps her out of the bath, watching her leave before sighing and stripping his clothes and leaving them in a heap. 

 

Volbin cleans himself faster than he’d have liked too, saunters out of the bath as it drains, ruffling his hair with the other towel. Asch is already in bed and pressed into the wall, Volbin sighs quietly, before approaching. 

 

Volbin pulls the covers, surprised to see her naked back, the bottom of her hair was damp and stained the sheets beneath her, still Volbin climbs under the furs and without ceremony he snakes his arm around her middle and yanks her until her back is pressed to his chest. Asch yelps at the suddenness of it. Volbin rumbles quietly, kissing underneath her ear before burying his face in the dry part of her hair “are you still cold?” He mutters tiredly, feeling her shake. Asch tenses as she feels his limp cock press between her cheeks, but not stir despite her nervous movements. “N-no not... n-now-“ Asch feels her chest cave, but her heart flutters when she feels him smile, his fingers press against ribs, and settle there and Volbin sighs in a grand way before his body stills.

 

Asch carefully moves her arm from under his and drags her hand over his until she feels the gaps between his fingers, where she then slots her own. 

 

 

Morning came to Asch as the light filtered inside the room, she blinks heavy eyes, stretching her toes and pleasantly humming as she felt everything crack. Volbin was still sound asleep, directly behind her and had not moved from his spot since falling asleep. His hand was still pressed on her ribs, fingers threaded with hers and Asch clutches them with her own, feeling fluttery and light. 

 

It had to be very early still, because usually Volbin would be gone by the time she awoke, but as she looks over her husband she can see the crack of light under the door, even she knew it was far to early for anyone to be awake. Asch lays there, content and sleepy for a while until she feels the urge to turn. Carefully doing so she unties their fingers, and spins around in Volbin’s embrace, letting his arm dangle over her side lazily. 

 

Asch sighs happily, looking up at her husbands sleeping face, admiring his stiff jaw and broad chest. At least Lady Melleina was correct in one thing; Volbin was very big. Asch shimmies closer to his frame, delighted by his heat and the feeling of his skin as she buries her face in his powerful neck, nose pressed to the cords of his throat. Asch rubs her hands over his sides, worming her arm under him while the other wrapped around his middle, tightly hugging him. Asch felt her bear breasts press against his chest, being so close she could feel his heart beating behind his ribs. 

 

Asch let the feeling lull her back to sleep. 

 

This time Volbin slowly awoke, drowsy and still tired. His eyes barely opened and he felt very cozy. Volbin blinks softly, squeezing his eyes shut before opening them and surprised to find his wife clinging to his skin. Volbin could feel her hands on his back, loosely pressed into the muscles, while her face was hidden in his neck. 

 

Volbin leans away enough to see her face, she was in a deep sleep and looked rather peaceful, something Volbin had shared since the day she came to sleep next to him. Asch looked delicate and very pretty pressed to his skin, her hair had fanned out behind her and her breasts looked full despite being stressed against his body. Volbin sways the arm that was hanging over her side and lightly begins to pet her back under the furs, deciding that today he could sleep in. 

 

Volbin still laid awake, idly listening to the soft sounds of his wife sleeping, petting her back until he felt her fingers twitch against his skin. Looking over her, she begun to stir and Volbin waited for her eyes to open, but as he waited, curiously and boneless, all she had done was roll them both over. Volbin blinks in a mix of fondness and confusion as Asch now lays atop him, hands still under his back and pressed flat against the blades of his shoulders. 

 

Volbin chuckles softly and it gently jostles her whole body, but does not wake her. Volbin wraps his arms around her again, pulling the blankets back up their bodies and kisses the top of her head, leaving his face pressed into her hair as he slowly falls asleep under her. 

 

If not for a knock Volbin would have completely succumbed to his drowsiness, barely peaking one of his eyes open he whispers, just loud enough “enter,” quickly pulling the furs over his wife’s naked back completely hiding everything from her neck downward. Volbin had expected Asch's maids to filter inside, but it was his weapons master who opened the door, hesitated upon seeing the state Volbin was in and averted his gaze to the floor as he took two steps inside and no further.

 

“Yes?” Volbin says, clearly unimpressed. His weapons master licks his lips, “I had... wondered when you would join us, my lord?” Volbin glares, clearly annoyed but the man had not looked up from his feet to see it. “When I please too.” Volbin bites, far too comfortable to dare move. From his place, Volbin can see the mans face colour darkly, which annoys Volbin further “know better than to disturb me when I am in my marriage bed.” The weapon master sputters, head completely drawn down “a thousand apologies my lord- I had not known you would- that you- you do not stay so late in bed usually.” Volbin sighs, rolling his eyes “ever compelling reason too,” he mutters the obvious, holding Asch closer “get out, I will join you when it pleases me to do so.” His weapons master says nothing as he hurried out, quickly closing the door with all the gentleness in the world.

 

There was a soft moan under his chin and Volbin settles as Asch begun to wake, the softest noises came from the back of her throat and Volbin felt his chest tighten at the sweet sounds as her face rubbed into his skin. Watching intently as her eyes fluttered open and looked directly up at him. Volbin watches as confusion clouds them, than the almost adorable embarrassment as her hands fumble and slip down his skin as they pull from under him, failing to gain any purchase. 

 

“Good morning,” he says almost laughing as he practically feels her skin heat up from the blush now all over her face and chest. Asch’s heart begins to pound in her chest and Volbin rumbles pleasantly as he's finally able to stretch his limbs. “I- I’m so- sorry my- my l-lord-“ Asch sputters, but Volbin is rather endeared by the sound of how sleepy her voice is. Asch tries to get off of him, but Volbin doesn’t allow such a thing as he purrs “sorry for?” 

 

“I-“ Volbin quiets her by rolling them over until she was under him, “do you feel better?” He mutters smugly, lips brushing against her pink skin. Asch cannot respond, but nods silently. “Mhmm-“ He hums, sucking a large part of her collarbone, kissing it when it falls from his mouth. “Did you sleep well?” He asks, kissing her breasts while pulling her legs up with his hands, Asch’s face colours in a ruddy pink blush that Volbin would like nothing more than to lick off. 

 

“Y-yes-!“ Asch gasps sharply as his cock fills her, Volbin purrs uncontrollably as he sinks into her, listening to the abrupt sounds filter from his wife’s mouth as he fucks her. 

 

In a sudden moment Volbin presses his lips against hers, and he feels Asch whimper into his mouth.

 

Asch’s hands were tangled in the sheets, now shake and hesitate in his hair, as if she was scared Volbin would pull away or become annoyed at her commanding tugs. Surprise filters through Asch when Volbin allows it with the softest sound of approval in his throat. Asch with his consent pulls her fingers straight through his thick hair, delighted as it felt as she imagined, soft as it appeared and lush. 

 

 

Asch cradles his head in her hands, brushing her thumbs over his cheek bones, finally resting them just in front of his ear while her other fingers clench at the nape of his neck. Volbin lets his tongue invade her mouth, fucking her in earnest now, but seeing no end in sight. His hands grip her thighs sweatily, fingers digging into her as he holds them open. There was a dirty slapping sound as he continued to push into her, the wet vulgar noise echoed through their chambers. Volbin feels her skin raise and feels the cool air dance across his skin as the furs are displaced and fall off his back, Volbin tucks himself tighter, closer to her body so the heat from his skin would seep into hers as his mouth continues to consume hers with intensity none could match. 

 

Asch’s legs shake into his sides, her belly pressed into his as Volbin continues to pound his cock into her, whimpering into his mouth. Volbin feels his sweat fall down his skin, finally his mouth rips from her with a gasp, a shake pulls all the way down his body as he stills inside, finishing as Asch whimpers in the pillows. 

 

Volbin basks in his finish, slouching against his wife, nearly a mess. Asch twists her legs around his sides, panting noisily in his ear and cradling his head where it rests on her collarbone. Volbin takes a deep breath and pushes himself up on his hands, staring at Asch, she looks at him, eyes soft and alive, a little red from tears. Volbin looks at her mouth and feels frozen for the moment, the red and raw kissed lips, puffy and very pretty. Volbin feels his throat bob. He hadn’t kissed her since their wedding day. What had come over him? Volbin snaps his eyes away, swallowing thickly, pulling himself free of her sweaty and shaky

 limbs, sitting on the edge of the bed with his back now facing her. 

 

With all the effort in the world, Volbin got up and gathered his clothes, pulling them on and finally, before leaving he says “I’ll see you at dinner?” Asch moves in the bed, he can hear the sheets rustle, but he dares not look back “y-yes-“ Volbin bolts from the room, brow furrowed in concern while a churning of unknown emotion slithers in his belly. 

 

 

His weapons master is not impressed, but knows better to say anything. Volbin begins to work, but stops, eyeing the daggers in front of him. “Sir?” The weapon master says, Volbin glares at the table, “nothing- it’s nothing.” The weapon master frowns, “you’re distracted.” Volbin doesn’t answer, “I thought you had... finished with your distractions by now.” At this Volbin snaps his head up, gaze sharp and angry, the weapon master quickly folds, fear causing him to look at his feet once more. “She is not a distraction, she is my wife and your lady.” The weapon master nods viciously, shaking at Volbin’s tone “yes sir of course, she is my lady.” 

 

Volbin’s lip curls knowing it was just words and not truth, “you will apologize to your lady and present her with a gift, something expensive.” The weapon master nods again, but hesitates speaking “is that... wise my lord? You’ve lost another account and-“ “whose?” Volbin hisses, angry bow for many reasons “Lord Melleina sir, he.. he said my lady disrespected his wife and... and is pulling his orders...” Volbin blinks, then suddenly snaps, snarling and clenching his fist. “Send an invite to lord Melleina and his wife- and do as I said!” The weapon master scurries from his seat, sputtering. 

 

“And- weapon master?” The nervous elf turns, “make sure the gift is purple.” 

 

 

Chapter 146: Ifarian dabbles 1

Summary:

Ifarian Darkveil

 

So this is a little update and I’m sorry I should give you more for how long I’ve made you wait, but this is what I got for you, so please enjoy it!

Chapter Text

There is a silence weighing the court down, every man, women and soldier alike is looking in awe, distrust and displeasure. Cool eyes of pure blood and silt sweep across onlookers, staring at them until their gaze breaks from intimidation, once submission fixes itself on each face the deadly eyes flick toward the High King.

 

Anduin Wrynn stares without emotion on his face, regarding him without bias or hatred of any kind, a unique trait for a human to posses, but staring as long as he has, Ifarian can see the cracks of uncertainty and nervousness, untold to all men but him. The daggers sitting on his hips drip blood and poison into the pristine floor. 

 

Ifarian is still as a grave, neither moving or paying mind to those circling about him in a wide berth, they are agitated, the guards do not like his presence here, they tense like bowstrings each time Ifarian catches their eyes, it’s a game, however, amusing to Ifarian, for now. He exhales and black smoke escapes his nostrils, dissipating around his face and climbing to the ceiling in wispy tendrils of smoke, a subtle reminder that despite their numbers, their armour and their ivory castle, he was in charge of the situation. 

 

Ifarian tilts his head, the weight upon his temple shifts, the large, long protruding horns sway with his movement, the light catches the groves and one even so far away as the High King can see the blackness of the smoke permeating from the creases, the fine eboy colour, nearly as shiny as steel. The torches surrounding the throne room create a darkness no plate or weapon can match however, and they are heavy looking, sprouting from his temple, thick at the base of his head, no man had ever been able to wrap his fist around them, the size tapers off slightly as they curve over his head, the points so sharp they may very shread through stone like parchment. 

 

Two smaller, knife like horns back, the points reach passed his sharp, tall ears, they are no larger than a simple hunting knife, one used to skin a kill. 

 

 

High King Anduin Wrynn shifted uneasily in his throne, his face becoming troubled as his eyes flick up and down, assessing Ifarian, his mouth pressed together harshly. Ifarian exhales heavily again, and the guards become restless, their armour stretching with their jerking movements. Ifarian crosses his arms, long, and elegant brow lifted in question, his armour makes no sound has it shifts peaceful with his movements. The black plate of his shoulder catch the light and the glass balls of poison in each pauldron sway silently, the red jewelled eyes of the serpent etched into the design glaring at however looked. 

 

 

King Anduin opens his mouth, clearly unsure of what to say, but beginning none-the-less “Welcome to Stormwind keep,” He says, voice diplomatic and betraying nothing Ifarian can’t clearly see upon his face. “Ever grateful.” Ifarian says smoothly, sarcasm oozing from his deep, luscious voice. Most become uncomfortable at his words, now showing their nerves unlike their king, given time he would too. “There are important matters I must... address with you.” Ifarian smirks, eyes falling half open as amusement overtakes him. 

 

“Oh?” He all he can mage to say without snorting in derision, King Anduin bods simply, licking his lips, a nervous habit Ifarian has come to learn through his observation. “You are a Black Dragon.” Ifarian hears the mutters beyond him, how shocked they all were to hear such a thing, as if it was not clear he wasn’t human. Ifarian drums his fingers against his arm, the loud, sharp click of his claws making every silence, when he doesn’t not speak Anduin looks unsure of how to proceed, as if he truly wished for Ifarian to answer such a idiotic question to appease him. 

 

“Stormwind has had issue with... your kind before.” Ifarian makes a show of rolling his eyes, of course the King doesn’t not react, but the guards closest to himbecome very hostile, “dare disrespect our King! Scum!” The first to react is Anduin “silence!” He barks, the barest hint of embarrassment flush across his face “Lord Darkveil is our guest!” The guard looks distraught, “but- but my King- he’s- he’s-“ “Kingslayer!” A bystander spits, rousing the crowd into screaming. Ifarian does not move, simply stares at the King, who stared back, a flicker in his eyes. 

 

“Enough!” He finally shouts, the power coming to his developing voice, suddenly the crowds quiet and the king wiped his face with his hand. The rough pads of his plate rub his face pink and his eyes dart to the floor, shame and disappointment clear in the ocean blue irises. “Apologies, Lord Darkveil, the will be escorted from the keep.” The last part was pointed and two other guards begin to ferry them out, including some of the nobles standing behind the line of kings guard. Ifarian watches the King, the wave of emotions upon his face. “What do you want?” Ifarian finaly decides to ask, knowing since his summons there could be nothing else the King had in mind except a favour. 

 

 

Anduin looks up at him in surprise and embarrassment, “I simply wanted to speak with you, Lord Darkveil.” Ifarian feels his amusement slowly fade and boredom settle in, “no you don’t.” He responds, tired of these games. Ifarian was not a man anyone simply spoke with. Not even the King was given the privilege of something so dull. “Why are you here?” Anduin blurts, so obviously curious and so obvious a question anyone could answer. Ifarian decides to humour him “work.” Anduin’s forehead scrunches at the vagueness of the answer, but Ifarian would provide no more detail than that. “You’re an... assassin... as I have been told?” The questions nearly insulted Ifarian, but the boy king was just naïveté enough that it didn’t irritate him. “Yes.” Anduin seems frustrated at the lack of information, but the questions were nearly not complicated enough to warrant much else. 

 

“Why do they call you Kingslayer?” Ifarian now does become irritated, “I’ve killed a King.” “What King?” Anduin quickly asks, “one older than you.” At this the High King looks confused, as irritated as Ifarian now. “Why?” Ifarian’s face grows dark and angry, a unpleasant curl in his lip as he glares at the King, watches everyone ready their hands on their weapons. “I was paid.” He says quite firmly, a tone without room for anything more. Anduin sure back in his throne, now finally understanding the situation “you have a...nephew, Wrathion.” Anduin speaks the name with mild upset, anger, the barest hint of betaryal. Ifarian grows slightly interested, Wrathion.

 

Ifarian never met his father’s children, Ifarian was the first, far older than any of his siblings, uninterested in their doings or deaths, however Wrathion slightly intrigued him when the little whelp ordered the eradication of the Black flight. Ifarian was born long before his father’s corruption, and too old at the time to be swayed by the madness that took root there-after. “What of him?” Ifarian asks, only to humour the High King more than anything else. Anduin looks troubled as he speaks, “he’s been missing for some time now, and there has been word his servants are being seen across Azeroth. Do you know why?” Ifarian huffs softly, smoke raising from his mouth at the effort of it, “I understand little of that whelps interests.” Ifarian says, “what does it matter?” 

 

Anduin leans forward, a little more comfortable as more words spill from Ifarian’s mouth, a little more eager now with the positive response “he’s of interest to me- since the trial of Garrosh Hellscream we have been on... uncertain terms.” Ifarian taps his claws into his bicep, listening to the sound “my nephew is likely searching for the scared Dragon Isle.” Ifarian says, “and his servants are keeping watch of all remaining Dragons of the Black flight and our artifacts.” Ifarian cares little for Wrathion’s interests, and even less of the servants that follow him- though they do get the privilege of bothering for him for long. 

 

Anduin seems enlightened, excited even as if he finally been given an answer to a question he had long been waiting for “Dragon Isle? What is that?” Ifarian knows few who know of the existence of the Isle, “mortals are not privy to such information.” Many know its name, many whisper about it, it has become a rumour that mortals make up stories for, some search for it, pester  many dragons for the secret of its location. Wrathion had been foolish all things considered, mortals should not know of its existance, but with carelessness comes consequence. 

 

Those little servants he dispatches are terrible at hiding themselves and are caught everywhere they go by all sorts of those trained to find hidden things, they dissuade eager, prying questions but do not think when they speak, and now it is know that the Dragon Isle exists and that there are Dragons who know where to find it. Ifarian is one of a handful, but no one dares to ask him questions. 

 

“I understand...” Anduin mutters, clearly disappointed, “My intelligence has spent the better part of the year searching for him,” he pauses, looking sheepish “but we cannot find Wrathion.” Ifarian glares flatly at the King, he knew of course from the moment Wrathion was mentioned that the High King wanted him found, “if you find him we will pay generously.” Ifarian hums, smirking again, “half upfront.” Anduin looks as if he wishes to protest, but then presses his mouth in a line, nodding curtly “you and Spymaster Shaw will leave immediately.” Ifarian scoffs, “I do not need your low class servants assisting me.” 

 

There was a chuckle from the side, a rich sound that echoed around the room, Ifarian barely glances toward the sound, a man, the Spymaster saunters toward him, coming straight up to Ifarian without fear or disgust “I’ll try not to get in your way,” he says coolly, smirking as they share a measured gaze. Ifarian regards him, slightly impressed by the  fact the mortal seemed to show no fear or hatred. “We’ll see.” 

 

Chapter 147: Aethas dabbles 3

Summary:

Aethas Sunreaver/Asch Sunheart

I’m am so very sorry this took so long to update, I’ve been really busy helping my family clean up the house and build some bookcases! So here is an extra long chapter!

Enjoy and thank you so very for over 50k views! Let’s try for 100k!!!

Chapter Text

Aethas felt haunted as he walked down the hall, passing rooms he remembered belonged- still belonged to many mages he once knew, and liked. Ones that may detest him now, he swallows harshly, his room was the further down, right at the end of the half circle that made up the top floor. Before becoming an Archmage this was his place for quite a long time, before he was moved into quarters that rightly couldn’t be called his. Aethas felt pain bloom in his chest, he used to have quarters right next to Modera, across from Kalec and just down the way from Khadgar. 

 

His steps were the only sound in the apartments block, the soft padding under him did not soften how loudly he always stepped, unique for elves as a whole, but then he was never meant to be a Farstrider and that was clear at a young age. Rommath, when he walked was as light as a hare on snow, Aethas wondered if it was a trait he never learned or some just didn’t have the patients to be that quiet. Aethas knew he wasn’t a patient man, from his choices as a mage and a man. Frost was meant for those with discipline, fire was meant for those who could handle dangerous, quick situations. Arcane was for very weighted people, which said something about those who practiced it. 

 

Aethas came to the room and stared at the door, unable to knock or stomach apologizing, of course he knew that he should, after saying what he had, but a small part of him would know it was a lie, honeyed words to appease a woman who held his fate, the Sunreavers fate, in her tiny hands. Aethas always turned his nose up at Jaina, he never believed a woman could lead them, for all it was worth, he was right about that, but everyone else saw merit in the bright eyed girl so he had to put up with it.

Aethas inspects the door, noticing little marks in the wood that brought an odd sense of familiarity, something he begun to loathe, quickly, despite his skin crawling, he knocked.

 

Three loud raps, and with his long and careful ears, he heard the brush of silk and the tiniest noise of steps. What he wasn’t prepared for was the swing of the door, the abrupt and truly nerve-wrecking motion of it all. Asch stood there, cheeks flushed and swaying lightly, her eyes as dead as coal and twisted, marring her beautiful features.

 

“What?!” Aethas blinks, licking his lips, this was his last chance and Khadgar would not have his rudeness, despite her clearly being drunk.

 

“Archmage-“

 

“Oh, please!” She snarls, swinging herself away from the door, barely stopping Aethas as he quickly blocked the door from being shut in his face. 

 

Archmage-“ She parrots, completely facing away from him, and with surprising grace begins to head toward the table dressed with gifts and bottles of wine.

 

“How dare you.” She spits, with the venom of a more hateful woman than Aethas truly believed she was.

 

“I came to apologize, Archmage.” Aethas says, and she laughs, a bubbly, wonderful sound, but it was only sour to his ears now, “You were very clear with your words, Archmage.” 

 

“Don’t ruin them with an apology, won’t you?” She hisses, a cruel smile flung over her shoulder at him. Her tone was predominantly angry, but there was underlying sadness in her voice. Aethas bites his lip, growing concerned for his position now. 

 

“Regardless, I’m terribly sorry, Archmage. I shouldn’t have said that, I behaved like an ape,” He swallows his pride, hoping she was moved by his words. Asch produces a clipped laugh, staring daggers at his face as she pours herself another drink, fingers making cubes of imperfect ice.

 

“All men are apes.”

 

Aethas watches her drink nearly all the wine in her glass, “is that wise?” He dares, watching her grow a little unsteady.

 

“Don’t lecture me- aren’t all you blood elf scum addicted to magic?!” Aethas shuts his mouth, coloring in irritation.

 

“I’m sorry.” Asch eyes him with suspicion, guarded as she moves toward her- his old- sofa and sits. She looks small and delicate upon it large plush surface. Aethas remembers she was anything but and carefully approaches, easing into the chair opposite to her, waiting for her to bark at him. 

 

“You aren’t sorry,” she says, melancholy overtaking her pretty face, “I’ve met countless men like you, and men like you are never sorry.”

 

Aethas felt his stomach twist, “Well I truly am. Is there anything I can do to right this wrong?”

 

Asch looks at him as if he was insane, a humor in it that he never saw, “Just get out.”

 

The words were punctured into his soul, they sounded so lifeless, so smug, all a the same time. Aethas hurries off the chair, bowing and hurrying out with his loud steps, the door slamming behind him with magic not of his making. 

 

 

Aethas left his old apartments, unsure of his future. 

 

 

The next morning his impatience begun to get the better of him now, Khadgar was already annoyed with him and his bouncing leg, so much in fact that he snapped at him, which was very unlike Khadgar, which only made Aethas feel more disparity. The council filled out, one my one, from Kalec to Modera, all of them heard of the incident, but none of them knew why it happened, a blessing, Aethas thinks, if Kalec knew the dragon would surely be cross with him. Aethas sneers silently at him however, the man has held interested in the only two recognized female mages, one whom he had an affair with openly. 

 

Aethas wonders how long it will take until the next with break. Oddly, he felt irritated by it, but had no time to explore why, as everyone begun to rise, Aethas follows, confused but realizing, with some relief, that they were standing for Asch. The other elf looked passive, normal truly, and holding no hints that she was heavily drinking last night, shocking, considering just how many bottles were opened and finished.

 

“Shall we?” She says, a dead tone. Modera looks toward her in concern, but despite that, sits along with her. The older woman had a motherly streak, even to those thousand years her senior. 

 

 

First they begin with boiler plate things that Aethas remembers hating when on the council, but felt a soothing emotion overcome him at the familiarity of it. They discuss the borders that the Legion hold, where they have begun progress on pushing back the offensive, where they were in terms of men and power. Asch was given a battalion of battle mages and they were accordingly in a stalemate around the outskirts of Stormheim, unable to move into Suramar. Some places were having more success, the Deathlord’s report said that they broke the lines and were cleaning a space for refugees and installing a hub for a base of operations. 

 

 

Most of the meeting blurred with information that Aethas didn’t bother to pay attention too, until the subject of Asch’s position on the council came into question, by none other than her teacher.

 

“She is Jaina’s pledge- shouldn’t she overtake her duties and titles?” Says the dragon, favoritism leaking in his voice more than logic. Khadgar hums at the merit of the idea however, knowing full well his place with be uprooted.

 

“Asch? What say you? Would you like the duties and responsibilities Jaina had?” Asch regards the all with a look Aethas cannot place, until his eyes meet hers, and he can see it mold into distaste.

 

“It hardly seems fair of me to take your position, Khadgar,” despite the look given Aethas, Asch smiles fully toward Khadgar, who in turn looks both pleased and disappointed. “I will stay on the council.” At this Khadgar looks ecstatic.

 

“I’m so pleased to hear that. Your presence elevates us all!” With little else left to discuss, Khadgar adjourns the meeting, smiling all the while. 

 

 

Aethas receives a knowing look however and it appears he isn’t finished with his groveling.  Without further prompting, he pulls himself up and saunters over to where Asch and Kalec seem to be discussing something. “Ah Aethas,” Kalec greets, most informal of him, but Aethas supposed that was nice “am I interrupting?” The look from Asch says that, yes, he was- but Kalec moves to allow him space into their little circle of conversation and shakes his head, always dazzling. 

 

 

It was sickening. 

 

“Never, how are you?” Kalec grins, Aethas smiles lightly, which couldn’t been seen from his helmet, but the gesture came across somehow to the dragon,

 

“Fine, meetings are always tiresome.” Kalec laughs, nodding in agreement, “as always- oh! Has Asch told you the news?” Aethas tilts his head, curious as Asch begun to pale, lip curling from her mouth

 

“No, what’s that?” He says, oddly smug as she looks anywhere but the both of them.

 

“Rhonin’s weapons are being passed onto her, both his sword and staff, isn’t that exciting?”

 

Aethas blinks, rather surprised “What about his twins? Aren’t they magically talented? Wouldn’t their mother prefer them to have those?"

 

Kalec hums in thought at his question, which was infuriating, “As far as I know, yes, but they are young still, and this was Rhonin’s wish- once she could handle them- you have progressed quite fast I must say Asch!”

 

The words of the proud teacher poured from his mouth, another dazzling smile thrown to her, Aethas sneered rolling his eyes while they couldn’t see.

 

“Thank you Kalec...” Aethas noticed the drop in her voice, the small sorrow at his mention of Rhonin.

 

“You were expecting Vereesa later weren’t you? In Coldarra, yes?” Asch nearly, just nearly stops from glaring at her teacher

 

“Yes...” she said very tensely, and for a former aspect, he is ever clueless to her ire and continues smiling.

 

“Aethas should accompany you- was a treat to see those legendary weapons?!” Kalec says, grinning as if struck with a grand idea “and you have a guest bed he could use. Asch looks scandalized suddenly,

 

“No!” She bursts, “it wouldn’t be appropriate!” Kalec bursts out laughing.

 

Aethas snorts “Oh what harm is there? You’ve let me stay.”

 

Aethas suddenly goes very still, watching the dragon grin in humor, at this she colors, shame and a mix of something else “there it’s settled! It’ll be good for you two to get to know one another as it is.” His words were suggestive and his brows raised toward Aethas in secret, which caused him to jerk slightly and face color, thankfully it was shielded by his helmet.  

 

 

“Oh! I have a meeting! Good day my dear!” Kalec winks toward Aethas and scurries off much like the foul little lizard he is. “Well.” Aethas says, looking toward Asch, who is practically fuming “shall we?” The day was growing old and the sun had started to fall beyond the earth, creating lovely melted oranges and pinks, toward the top purples and finally a deep, beautiful blue. Asch jerks badly, making as much room as possibly between them that didn’t look outwardly odd, as if he was poison as needed to stay far from. 

 

This did not impress him, in fact, Aethas took two steps to reach her and, surprisingly, her gaze did not reach him this time, no defiance came as it usually did and Aethas found it interesting. But the illusion was quickly shattered when she brought her hand around his wrist, nails digging into his skin over his robes, with her other hand she pulls a hearthstone from her bag and he watches it glow before a flash overtook his vision.

 

Aethas was accustom to the way travel, but blinked to regain his sense, finding he couldn’t and the reason being that it was pitch black, and now, freezing. He eyes had no time to adjust and suddenly a fire brought life to the place, revealing it to be her house, specifically the middle of her living room. “She won’t be here until tomorrow.” Asch mutters, meaning Vereesa. Aethas watches her drop her bag carefully onto the sofa, and stands frozen as she goes about closing the blinds by the door. Not that you could see anything outside as it was, Coldarra was a hazard at night, if you were stuck outside. 

 

 

Aethas feels a shock inside him that finally sparks movement, licking his feet he follows her like a duck, waddling after its mother, at a loss for what to do. Asch once she finished, turned and seemed shocked at how close he was, “what?!” Breathes, seemingly frightened. Aethas licks his lips, confused as she was “nothing, my lady.” He says, without knowing what else he could say. At his words she grows irritated, flicking her hair over her shoulder as she marched off, Aethas following still. 

 

Her hair bounced and swayed down the stairs, the cascade of pure snow, he almost wanted to touch it, but refrained from doing so as they got to the bottom of the stairs. “The guest bed is made up. The bathroom is there and supplies are under the sink.” She says without looking at him, holding her doorknob before finally giving him a short, nervous look, quite different from anything else. “Good night.” Aethas had no time to speak his pleasantry, her door slammed in his face quicker than he could have imagined, but decided that at least they were making progress. 

 

 

Aethas undid the sheets tucked in the bed, a shame, really, they had been so preserved that he felt awful having to ruin it. Despite his attempt, he could not rest. Why had she been so odd? Of course odd was a relative term in her case, but angry was her default when it came too him, now she was reserved and skittish. He knew that she had no reason to tolerate him, but Kalec had stayed here before, so it couldn’t have been as she called it, inappropriate. Unless they had slept together, which was an easy conclusion to draw upon since he entangled himself with Jaina. That was wholly strange to begin with, touching on the fact he was a dragon and she was a human wasn’t even something Aethas was going to dissect for very long, it was strange for humans and elves to pair together, so Jaina and Kalec was just beyond Aethas entirely. 

 

 

Still it didn’t answer the questions he had. 

 

 

Whatever the reason, maybe he was overthinking it, but something wasn’t adding up. 

 

Aethas groans, turning in his side again, and finding no comfort in the fresh cold that hit his face. Without grace, he rolls from the bed onto his feet and drags himself to the hall, intending on going to the bathroom, but paused when he heard small sounds coming from Asch’s room. The door had been left slightly open, probably from when she used the bathroom and came back without closing it. 

 

Aethas curiously peaks inside, eyes growing wide and cheeks flushing in color at what he saw. It wasn’t clear, but he knew exactly what was happening despite the angle of her bed and where he craned his neck to look into the door. Asch’s legs were spread open, bent atop her covers to the point he could nearly see her while figure, if not for the small nightdress and awkward angle. Asch’s head was thrown back, eyes squeezed shut and her hand was pressed between her thighs, moving in a quick, jerking circular motion. Aethas is too stunned to look away, his cock twitched as he felt arousal seep through him as he listened to the delicate panting and small whines of pleasure. 

 

 

Aethas presses his mouth into a thin line, his cock throbbing in his loose linen pants, a sound almost escaped him as he watched her thrash and roll onto her belly, knees pulling up so her perfectly shaped bottom arched in the air. Her face presses into the pillows, the sounds growing louder but distant, but Aethas was too focused on watching her fingers, now slightly more visible, grow slick and slide along her cunt, but never pressing inside. The firelight accented how wet her thighs had become, Asch shakes, belly pressing into her bed and she writhes in pleasure, the perfect bow of her back and legs so widely spread made Aethas growl softly at his imagination. 

 

What he wouldn’t give to be bent over her, cock balls deep inside where her fingers wouldn’t go, his hand pressed onto her spine, forcing her into submission as she begged for it. Aethas jolted out of his fantasy as he heard her hand slap into the bed frame, desperately gripping onto something as a broken, soft, and nearly sweet sound escaped her. She stilled and whimpered, beginning to sag into the rumpled sheets. Aethas watches the line of her body lull and flop, as he eye travels Aethas begins to notice empty wine bottles in the floor, nearly three finished and another split onto her carpet. 

 

 

Aethas flinches away, suddenly overcome with embarrassment and darts back to his room, his cock still demanding attention, but his mind was in shambles. His face felt like a fireball, and his hand felt like a balm as he wrapped it around his shaft, breath haggered as he planted loudly, unable to quiet himself as he groans, finishing in his hand rather quickly into his fist. Part of him wondered how shameless it was, but another was too tired to care. Without spending much time, Aethas cleaned his hand in the sheet, feeling bad a small bit before collapsing into his pillow and falling asleep. 

 

 

 

The night he slept dead and the only thing that work him was laughing from upstairs, without really thinking, Aethas runs his hands through his hair to pull it out of his face and clambers up the stairs, eyes covered over in sleep “I’ve missed you my love!” He recognizes Vereesa Windrunner, rubbing his eyes he can see them both sitting on the sofa “Lady Windrunner.” He says, rather cockily, Vereesa jumps, whirling around in surprise, then with shocked eyes she looks at Asch “hello... Archmage Sunreaver-“ she leans toward Asch, whispering “what is he here for... you didn’t-“ Asch hisses “no!” They’re whispering wasn’t subtle at all, and Aethas looks smug as he leans on the closest counter, now realizing he was only wearing loose, white revealing pants. 

 

Asch colors a deadly shade of red as she looks at him, almost the same shade as his hair. “I wanted to see the weapons.” He clarifies as Vereesa‘ face starts growing cold and sickly. “Oh.” Aethas knew what she was thinking, if he wasn’t holding everything on the line, he would have allowed the misconception, maybe even joke about it at Asch’s expense. “Is that them?” Upon her neat sofa table was a long wrap made of animal hide, at both ends he could see the tips of the staff, the beautiful array of pinks and golds. “Yes...” Vereesa seemed just as uncomfortable with him as Asch was, but that was nothing new to him. In fact, Aethas goes out of his way to irritate them both and sits close to Vereesa. 

 

Vereesa opens the wrap and the both let Asch take hold of them, “he would be so happy they were given to you.” She says as Asch palms the sword, eyeing it with such raw emotion. “and... its- it’s alright I keep them?” Vereesa nods quickly, “please- no one else deserves them, my dear. He would be so proud of you.” Asch and Vereesa share a look of distraught pain, “I miss him every day.” Vereesa mutters, voice wet with emotion “I know.” Asch says, and for a moment Aethas catches her eyes and he sees the pain behind them, before she rips her gaze away and her face becomes sour. “I heard you are going to test the lines in Dragonblight- are you... going?” Vereesa hisses the last of her words, annoyed at his presence “yes, I will be. Two of us it’s quicker and less dangerous.” Vereesa doesn’t look convinced but Asch hums softly, and he sounds brings back flashes from last night.

 

 

Aethas swallows and feels himself begin to stiffen and quickly jumps, making the two stare up in confusion, at his frantic movements “I should ready myself-“ he says coolly, hiding his arousal behind her kitchen counters. “I’ll will be but a moment.” 

 

 

Asch glares at the puzzling behavior but rolls her eyes, ignoring the hurried steps “why is he here? You didn’t... sleep with him did you?” Asch grips her teachers staff, it feeling far to large for her “he’s here because Kalec invited him. And I didn’t! I would never!” Vereesa pulls her hands up in defense and snorts, “as you say. I still can’t believe you let someone so vile into your home.” Asch frowns, agreeing with her “the help with the Ley lines is nice still.” Asch hated doing it alone and since she loved so close it was always her duty to check them. “Well...” it was awkward, “good luck with it. I’ll see you soon, come visit the twins- they miss you, my love.” As Vereesa got up to leave Aethas came up the steps, helmet under his arm and hair combed from his face. 

 

 

Asch glances at him, and it was enough to catch just how handsome he honestly was, a chiseled beauty- and his hair. The rusty red color was delightful, The was it fell down to his elbows, how straight and shiny it was. Asch swallows and pushes herself up using the staff, quickly tanking the sword from the table. Asch remembers how difficult it was to hold them up right and even still it made her muscles strain a little. She would have to practice with them just to hold them straight. “Let’s go.” 

 

 

The journey short and the only had five to check, spread out greatly over the tundra. They went through them fast enough, the last was the furthest out and Aethas thought it would be a smart idea to let their mounts rest until moving to the last, Asch reluctantly agreed and they paused at a cave. His hawk rested in the floor of the cave and sounded happy to cool his belly off, while Asch’s hippogryph pressed her beak into her wing and dozed off. 

 

Aethas leans into the mouth of the cave, arms crossed as he watches something outside “how do they feel?” He asks casually, “they’re fine.” She sighs, but adds “heavy.” Aethas snorts in amusement, “meant for a man, of course they are.” Asch blinks, an angry flush pouring onto her cheeks, "Maybe. But if they were, it was a man of pure blood," Asch replied, gripping the weapons tighter, the heat from them radiating down her arms. 

 

 

 

 

 

"How dare you!" Aethas snarls, face pinched and nose . "I come from the noblest lines of Sin'dorei!" Asch rolls her eyes, sneering,

"And therein lies the problem. Sin'dorei." Asch spits every syllable, a thick hatred surrounding every word. "Or as the rest of Azeroth knows you, mana addicted scum, selling their bodies for magic on every corner of Silvermoon." Aethas' face reddens as a series of incomprehensible sounds come from his mouth. Asch laughs at the sight, "Oh, did that get to you? Knowing the truth makes you mad?" Aethas composes himself, pure rage overcoming his face, "Better a mana addled scum than a whore subject to her own desires. I'm surprised you have a free hand for those weapons, don't you need one for the bottle and one for your cunt?" He snarls, becoming smug as he watches the flood of emotion drain down her face. 

“What- what are you talking about?!” Of course her face betrayed her, the shame melted in her eyes, the color upon her cheeks, the way she curled into her teachers staff like a wilted flower. Aethas smiles wickedly, a cruel thrum in his laugh as it escaped his chest “I’m talking about you bent over like a bitch in heat with your fingers slick like a common whore.” Asch was frozen on the spot, but Aethas could see something shatter behind her eyes and before he knew it his whole being was incased in ice, the walls flush and icy shards angrily stabbing from the wall. 

 

In her hands, shaking were the weapons, alight with power and Aethas was unable to move and could only watch her dart from the cave, her Hippogryph trotting after her, cracking the now icy floor with its feet. 

 

Chapter 148: Naedrian dabbles 1

Summary:

Original male elf/original female elf

I might take a pause on updating to edit my chapters into a better format, but for now, enjoy!

Chapter Text

 

Naedrien snarls like a beast, yanking at the tight rope bindings, bitting at the fabric gag in his mouth and hissing at the two orcs forced to pull him along. The one in front of him cursed and ripped the rope forward, making him jerk and drag along, while the one behind him whipped his bare flesh, yelling for him to move.

 

 

Naedrien would not so easily be swayed into bidding however and made it supremely difficult for them, his back was bloody and beaten, but he did not feel it over his absolute rage, like a furious stallion, he would not be corralled. His proud nose was scrunched together with a deep scowl, his wild golden eyes dark with bloodlust and his wrists were dripping blood from rope rash. 

 

 

The Orcs had fallen behind their train, but continued to press forward on the dirt road, they had called him a mule, but he was far more stubborn then that, which they quickly found. They threatened him, promised pain once they reached the destination, but Naedrien bared his teeth and defied them. Soon they realized their taunts were falling on deaf ears and quickly begun to stew in their irritation, knowing he would not be broken so simply. They continued to drudge along until the gates were reached and Naedrien, with his head high, continued to protest their advance. 

 

Most people saw them, watched curiously as his two captors troubled with him, some laughed, others called for punishment, but all looked disturbed by the amount of fight still churning in his face. Naedrien’s feet were bloody and sore, but still he planted them, forcing them to drag him like a statue. 

 

Naedrien watches the sky fall behind the roof of the stone building, the coolness of the floor soothed the bottom of his feet, and left red patches. Naedrien is shoved down the carved steps, dirt stirring under their movement, he barely catches himself from falling as they make him continue forward. It was dark, only torches lit the area and stone littered the floor in patches, there were others here, all kinds of races were watching as they approached “he gets his own cage.” The orc mumbled to the other, who nods, and they take him to the furthest cell in the back.

 

 

He had thought they would shove him into it and shit the door, but the two enter inside and untie his wrists, only to fasten them quickly behind him and force him into his knees. The stone hitting his knees made him grunt and snarl, they tied his hands to a stake in the cell, backing off quickly and hurrying out, slamming the door. Naedrien struggles as soon as the dust settles, ripping at his bonds and huffing our in pain, the closest cell to him holds two other elves, but only one regards him, a concerned look in his eye.

 

“Stop struggling.” He whispers, “it will only get worse.” Naedrien glares deeply at the other, but realizes suddenly, that the man before him riddled with scars, his face held small signs of age, but his figure was strong, mighty even.

 

Naedrien slumps, bitting around the gag in his mouth, the other laughs softly, shaking his head, “Save your strength. You will need it very soon.”

 

Naedrien squints at his words, the expression conveyed with he could not say and the other provides the explanation, “You’ll be fighting for your life. Like all new bloods do. They will not care if you die today and no one will aid you.” 

 

 

Asch felt woozy was she listened to Master Durthogg goad his crowd, while Mistress Grella lays beside him on a long fur covered sofa, peering over the stone with mild interest. The day was hot, far hotter than most Asch had known, thankfully Mistress decided upon a thin wrap for servants. At the beginning of each new moon Master acquired new men and boys to train for the arena and Mistress Grella accompanied her mate to all these events, and so Asch and the two other ladies must attend as well. 

 

 

Asch held the tray of bread, cheese and grapes, kneeling beside her Mistress, keeping her eyes from the ring as the sun heats her skin, Asch did not like the fighting, the blood or the deaths. 

 

“How many are there this time?” Mistress Grella ponders, picking at the grapes, picking the largest ones and popping them into her mouth one at a time. Durthogg sits beside his mate, watching over the yard with a squint.

 

“About three.” He muses, scratching his at and pepper beard, “A pale-skin, a Grimtotem and a tree elf.” Grella hums in response, resting her feet in his lap as her gaze strays, Asch meets it, nodding gently, smiling at her Mistress.

 

Grella reaches of Asch and cups her cheek softly, her thumb running over the flesh, “Will you fetch water for us?”

 

Asch nods eagerly, smiling gratefully, “Yes Mistress.”

 

Grella knew she did not like the fighting and was kind enough to find her things to do so she wouldn’t have to witness it. Asch knew since she was little Mistress adored her, Asch learnt quickly and did as commanded. Asch hurries through the door, holding her robes in her hands, the sweltering heat dimmed by the shade of the house and the cold stone walls. The water jugs were in the storage room, close to the metal gate separating the rest of the house to the yard. 

 

Asch reviles in the coolness as she lifts the clay jug of water, capped with a cork. It used to be too heavy for her, but after years of carrying them up two flights of stairs made her strong. Asch pauses, biting her lip as she decides to take a skin of ale with her, pulling it under her arm and carefully padding back up the stairs. The fighting had started and Asch shows away from the violence, disturbed as usually by it.

 

“Fill my cup,” Grella commands softly, holding her cup toward her. Asch quickly fills it, having no trouble with the weight and hides the jug in the entrance for later, towing her way to Master Durthogg.

 

“Wine for my master?” She softly says, not looking at his face, Asch can tell however, that he was looking at her and feels and hand atop her head, another taking the skin from her outstretched hands.

 

“Insightful elf as always.” Asch beamed under the praise and backs far enough away so she doesn’t have to watch the carnage. 

 

 

 

Naedrien scowls darkly as he is lead from the cold, wet cell to the scorching sun, sand under his feet and others lining the walls, trying to hide in the shade. His hands are untied and he is forced to stand shoulder to shoulder with two others, a human, one pink and looking to beginning to burn, his hair soot black and face hopeless and defeated, his hands cover his shame and Naedrien feels a pang of sympathy, feeling exposed and uncomfortable all the same. The other beside him was a Tauren, his fur matted with sweat and dirt brushing Naedrien’s arm. His fur was brown and his horns were blunted at the tips, but looked that way on purpose.

His face was long and pensive, constantly shifting in his hooves as his sweat darkly coloured his fur. 

 

 

Above them were two green orcs, one was a women and uninterested in them after her glance caught all of them, he hair drawn away from her face in braids and black in colour. Beside her, another, a male of her same race, his hair salt and pepper, cut above his shoulders and loose. His beard was cared for, bushy and formed around his chin. 

 

He stands, hands leaning on the stone wall, eyes squinting against the sun. Naedrien defiantly meets his gaze and the other smiles dangerously. 

 

“I will judge your merit this day and the next if I so chose, you will be trained as gladiators.” Naedrien sours, but his eyes sweep across the way and under the balcony, stands the elf that shared his cells wall, his face impossible to read.

 

“Vayden!” Durthogg barks, “forward.” 

 

The elf with calm eyes comes forth, his steps without swagger or importance, despite the eerie smile along the orcs lips. “My champion.” 

 

Vayden raises his head, the sun colouring his purple skin proudly, “Show the new blood their worth.”

 

Two swords were given to him, the steel sharp and glinting in his hands. There was no pause between his words and Vayden’s actions, his speed was unparalleled, he came to them without hesitation and slashed toward the human, who backed up enough that the wound given was little but spurted all the same. Naedrien watches, shocked as Vayden expertly collides with the Tauren, without much choice Naedrien takes his stance, the Tauren is cut, his arm sliced like silk. 

 

The human and the Tauren continue to dodge his attempts, failing only slightly, and the Vayden approaches Naedrien, his eyes sharp and unreadable. His thrusts are not muted, they reach for him and Naedrien uses his unpracticed ability in the druidic arts. His reach however is too vast and catches his shoulder, but Naedrien had realized without swords their task was only to run. With great effort Naedrien launches away, the power of speed his only ally and Vayden creates chase, despite the power used Naedrien finds he cannot outmatch the other. 

 

 

“Enough!” Durthogg commands and just as swiftly, Vayden pauses, sword stiff at his side, “Go. You have promise, but we shall see your worth.” 

 

 

Naedrien regards the other elf, their eyes meeting and Vayden is expectant, “You are strong.” He says in passing, twirling his weapons, “Live and your fate my still be your own.” It was a warning and Naedrien was wise enough to take heed, this time. 

 

 

Asch stands by her mistress as she and the master walk into the villa, “Do you think they hold worth?”

 

Grella sighs, swaying her cup toward Asch to fill. “Worth will be made when it is made. Have them cleaned. They will be exposed to bidding soon.” Grella nods to his words, pausing as she entered their chambers. 

 

“Gather yourself, Fulu and Lyrenna.” Grella commands “clean the new blood, presently.” Asch’s fixes her cup, filling it near to the lid before resting the jug beside the wall. Grella follows her mate into their room, the scent of candles burning behind the curtain of dark dyed silk. 

 

“Yes mistress,” she says, knowing she is nit heard. Lyrenna is the first to slink toward her, a pinch in her nose, as always.

 

“Why must we always do this?” She whines, pouting.

 

“Straighten your face,” Asch smiles despite it, “You know why we must.” 

 

Lyrenna sighs loudly, an irritating sound to Asch’s ears, “They frighten me, can’t mistress find someone else?”

 

Asch rolls her head to the side, toying with her skirt. Lyrenna complainers often of her duties to Asch, the girl always favouring the less struggling work. Lyrenna was a perky girl, one taller than Asch and thin in many desirable places. Her face was always smiling, her eyes always bright, and hair pulled into a tight bud of lush lime green meadow. 

 

“Come, we have a duty.” 

 

Asch liked the escape from the heat once more and followed the guards to each of the new gladiators, Fulu entered the Tauren’s cage and the bull did not appear aggressive as she knelt toward him, setting her cloth in the wooden bowl brought with her. The Tauren snorts softly, breathing unsteady as she washed around his wounds. Lyrenna scrunched her nose at the pale skin before her, the man was not impressed in the slightest as she scrubbed his skin. Neither made conversation and allowed the two girls to clean the dirt and grime. 

 

 

The last cage was further than the rest, Vayden peers at her, a deep smile in his face.

 

“A moon beam among us once more.” He says, reaching passed the bars.

 

“Vayden you are far too kind.” She says, letting his hand squeeze hers tightly. His hand was littered with tiny scars, but pleasant as always.

 

“And my mate?” Asch smiles fondly, heart squeezing at the words from his mouth, the adoration and love.

 

“Helping me with the new men,” she says, guiding his eyes with her head, “She won’t be but a moment.” 

 

Vayden’s eyes grow soft as he sees Lyrenna, a smile wide across his handsome face, “Be off then, thank you child.” 

 

His fingers squeeze hers once more before letting her go. Always found affection toward Vayden, his kind words and stories always brightened her day. Lyrenna and he found each other inside these walls, his heart so open and their secret affair was barely kept hidden, no thanks to their appreciation for one another, but maybe Mistress Grella knew of them and allowed it simply because Lyrenna was not her interest and keeping the champion happy was something she wished for. 

 

Asch is let inside the cell adjoined to Vayden’s and finds another of their kind, one that did not look defeated or shamed by his bare skin. He was covered in filth and blood, his eyes do not reach her until the gate makes a jerking sound and soon the head of deep green hair snaps toward her, allowing golden eyes of shock to expose themselves.

 

“I am to attend your wounds.” Asch mutters, offering a smile to his wondering, wide eyes.

 

 

“Are you?” He says, voice gentle and deep, “And you blindly listen to such commands?” His words to not reach her ears properly, Asch squints, a flush coming to her cheeks as she understands he is speaking a tongue she should know as well, a language that was lost.

 

“I-I am- here t-to help.” She says brokenly, an attempt the other glares at, Asch bites her lip, kneeling toward him, eyeing where to start. His skin was a dark shade of purple covered in dust and sweat. “I do not need the help from a fucking slave,” he snarls with common tongue and burning her ears. Asch looks anywhere but his face, a sad turn in her lip.

 

“I will only be a moment-” her wrist is taken in his hand, and his eyes show great aggression, but his fingers do not squeeze “please,” she mutters, nervous and worried as the guards begin to shift “wouldn’t you  wish to be clean?”

 

Asch tried, watching suspicion cloud his face, but fingers ease from her wrist and let her go. Asch coats the scrap of cloth in water and runs her hands across his chest, despite her wish to hurry Asch does not fail in her duty to clean him throughly. From his thighs to his wounded back, she is careful and dutiful, gentle around the open wounds. 

 

He is tense as a bow, every twitch frightening her more with each moment that passes. Asch drenches his hair by twisting a full cloth, she wipes his cheeks free of droplets and eagerly standing, before peering over him with a twist in her stomach.

 

Asch bites her lip, rubbing the soft petal lips together in worry before setting her bowl and dirty cloths to the side. The elf watches from his seat as she leans down, taking a large portion of her dress and yanking it until it ripped. It was a long and large enough scrap that it could easily be wrapped and tied around his muscled hips. For now she drapes it across his bare lap, letting his exposed skin hide. Asch quickly takes her items, propping them against her side and letting some dirty water slosh on the floor. Asch doesn’t not look back as she scurries away, unable to be free of his golden eyes. 

Chapter 149: Aethas dabbles 4

Summary:

Aethas Sunreaver/Asch Sunheart

I’m sorry this was so late! I had family over and some personally stuff went down.
I’ve been editing my chapters so! It’s getting better! I’m sorry for all the mistakes! I will try and do better for you guys!

Anyway enjoy!

Chapter Text

Aethas was not stuck long in the ice, but it was a few hours before he could melt it away with a spell. Of course this gave him time to fume. Without much thought he leaps ointo his hawk, and forces it to speed to Coldarra, rage full in his eyes as snow hit his helmet. 

 

 

By the time he arrived it was dusk, pitch dark, but now he knew his way and once he came to the door, it opened to his single push, fright overtook him as he realized the door wasn’t locked or even closed. Aethas drew his staff, glaring at the darkness, nothing seemed out of place or taken. Aethas snarls outwardly, “idiot women.” Looking he cannot find her and so he stomps toward the bedroom, finding this door wide open as well, and wholly shocked at the mess he found there. 

 

Asch was there, on the floor, laying unconscious, the weapons scattered along the floor with four bottles of wine, empty. Aethas sighs waving his hand to conjure a few cleaning tools, which he hadn’t done in years. Carefully he picks her up, shocked at just how light she was in his arms. Her frame was delicate and soft, he was correct in his assumption that she would fit perfectly under him. She was half his size and each part fit like a puzzle piece. Aethas shakes his head, shooing his thoughts away as he gently placed her on the bed. The covers were a lush red and reminded him of a burning fire. Aethas pulls them up to her chin and watches her sink into the pillow, turning on her belly and sighing deeply. Aethas felt his mouth twitch, arousal and irritation catching him off guard. Aethas stands straighter, watching the conjured cleaning items work with the last mess. 

 

 

Aethas blows the final candle out, but renews the fire in the fire place with a flick of his wrist before teleporting to Dalaran. 

 

 

Working was all he had now, knowing his actions were foolish and his pride was too iron to bend, so he hopes that his Sunreaver’s will be admitted for merit rather than the politics of it. Asch wouldn’t forgive him now and Aethas was finished pandering to her sensitivities. The women shouldn’t be in power of any kind and how dare she insult him then act like a fussy child, he defended himself from her foolishness. 

 

Aethas snarls, stabbing his quill into the paper, splattering the ink across his signature. There was a knock at his office door, the tiny place he was allowed to keep as his own, a broom closet most likely before transformed. “Enter!” He snaps, glaring as the door eased open, shocked greatly as Asch folded inside, barely able to look at his face. “We need to speak.” Aethas curdles, “we don’t. Get out.” He would grovel no more to this women, he knew from the moment they met he would not get his Sunreaver’s back into Dalaran and playing nice with woman, someone beneath him. 

 

 

“Enough Sunreaver!” She commands, gripping her new staff with that pompous superiority all high elves have. “You are repulsive- you dare share my home and call me a whore after spying on me?!” Aethas smirks wickedly “if the shoe fits.” Asch scowls at him, “you are so obtuse?! How were we ever the same people once?!” She sounds almost hurt and Aethas leans back in his stiff chair, listening to it creek, but still feeling smug about it. 

 

“You filthy- awful man I will never allow your fucking Sunreaver’s return!” Her words caused his stomach to boil over and the sound of his chair scrapping into the floor echoed as he stood up, hands smacking into the desk “you dare speak to me like that- you little whore! Don’t pretend you have authority over me!” He barks, "The only reason you are in the position you are, is because of the foolish judgement of an old man." With that, Aethas spat at her feet and stalked out.

 

 

Aethas can hear her sputter behind him and putter behind him quickly, Aethas wasn’t expecting the violent push, but suddenly he found himself with his back pressed into the wall and the wind knocked from his lungs. “I am here because I am better than you shall ever be, Sunreaver!” She bites, fury burning bright in her beautiful blue eyes. Aethas felt his lip twitch and his lungs shutter air as he tried to catch his breath back, desperate not to show it. 

 

“Dare act like a beast toward me any longer and you will see just how much power I will wield-!” Her staff presses into his throat and Aethas snarls in aggravation at herwords, hatred boiling in his blood. A small, irritating part thought she was very pretty when she was red in the face and glaring at him, how lovely her chest was heaving and how white her knuckles were holding the far to large weapon. 

 

“Pretend that you can control me all you like, women,” he spits, continuing, “we both know you can barley control yourself!” Aethas felt the press against his throat lighten for a moment, her face faltered in confusion until she snarled at him and shoved harder. 

 

“What do you mean?!” She demands, face pinching sourly. Aethas snorts, but the sound is muted and struggled as his breath is shallow and cut by the staff press deeply into his neck “I went to find you after you left me in that cave,” he says, watching her face pale “how do you think you ended up in your bed?!”   

 

 

Aethas feels her fully release him and coughs softly, rubbing the pain in his neck away as she glares at her, but Asch is not looking at him any longer, her thoughts lost with her eyes as they wander rapidly, as if looking at invisible dots connecting together his words. “That was you?!” She says insidiously, as if it couldn’t possibly be true.

 

 

Aethas rolls his eyes, glaring flatly at her “who else could it have been?” He says, and Asch pouts, which Aethas darts his eyes from, his heart aflutter at the sight. Asch shirugs softly, her rage missing from her features “not you, of all people.” She snaps, still looking unsettled and confused. “Why bother?!” She regains some of her footing, nose pinched rather cutely. 

 

Aethas fidgets, disliking how it was he who was pressed into the wall. “You looked pathetic,” he brushes off, watching her glare, but still she continues, “then why bother?!” Again she says, frown growing deeper. Aethas hesitates, not liking his options, and without thinking, as usual, he grabs her arms and pulls her into him. Asch makes a noise of surprise, but it’s lost as his lips reach her in a shockingly tender kiss. 

 

Aethas feels her turn to stone in his arms, but he presses on, deepening the kiss with her unmoving lips somehow. Asch’s head is forced back, craning toward his lips, as he was taller, but the motion is not uncomfortable. Aethas feels her arms claw at his forearms, and cannot say if it is from anger or passion, but she kisses back, but not as nearly as instense. Barely acknowledging his own affection, or whatever this was, she hesitantly allows for it, relenting to his mouth and letting her jaw slack to, shockingly, make the kiss far more intimate than Aethas intended. 

 

It shocked Aethas so much that he parted with a rough jerk of the head, the sound echoed through the empty hall and startled his ears into swiveling, still he did not show any of his panic outwardly, and simply, gently pushed Asch away from him and stood straight as an arrow, before saying, again, without thinking “that’s why.” 

 

 

And before either of them knew it, he took off in a unknown direction. And neither of them knew where he was going. 

 

 

 

Chapter 150: Aethas dabbles 5

Summary:

Aethas Sunreavers/Asch Sunheart

Sorry it took too long lol
Enjoy!

Chapter Text

 

Asch stares at the spot Aethas used to occupy with wide, moon sized eyes, her lips tingling and wet, her blood far warmer than she thought it could be. So warm in fact, she felt it in her cheeks and as she snapped out of her trance, she nearly fell over whirling around. 

 

There was no possible way she could track where Aethas had gone, so instead of trying she ran to the only place on her mind at the moment, a subject of horror, in truth. 

 

Khadgar’s main office. 

 

 

Running up the stairs with little to no grace, and tripping on the last step, because she did not bother to pull her robes from her feet, Asch made it up the landing. Two Kirin Tor guards look shocked and befuddled at her stumbling, but said nothing as she brushed her robes, attempting to save face. “May I have an audience with Khadgar?” She asks the two portal guards. Khadgar was the leader and as such, you could not just simply walk into his office, two guards carry the portal keys to it and they must agree to allow you inside. 

 

They nod equally, both now having a small smirk, best trying to hide their laughter, Asch couldn’t blame them, it was odd to see an elf  so disheveled. Still, they school their face after a moment and wave their hands, and between them a portal springs forth, it’s size barely fitting her, a small amusement came to her as she entered through it, any 

man would have had to crouch. 

 

 

Khadgar was in his regular spot, standing behind his desk, slumped over it as he read through a rather large tome, before she spoke he said “Ah, Asch, lovely as always.” Then his head picks up and he delivers a signature smile toward her. “Archmage I have pressing matters,” Asch says in a hurry, wringing her hands into her staff. Khadgar’s brows reach high on his face, surprised, “What’s wrong?” 

 

 

Asch bites her lip, growing pink with embarrassment, wishing she didn’t have to humiliate herself like this, “I sent you a letter early this morning- May I have it back?” She begs, Khadgar continues to look more and more surprised, “Your letter? Hm-“ he ponders, rubbing his chin, “I’m... sorry to say but I read it- and sent copies to the other Archmages... I was quite disappointed with the decision... but I understood-“ he pauses, blinking, looking marginally horrified now “You said you wanted it back?!” Asch nods frantically, the letter she wrote was one of anger, Asch was the lead of the vote for the Sunreavers entrance or continued banishment and in a fit of rage she pressed the vote and included her own. 

 

 

Khadgar begins to riffle though parchment, grabbing choice ones, likely the other letters from the council containing their votes on the matter. Asch watches his eyes race across each letter and continues to darken with dispair, “Asch I’m afraid... all the votes went though- you voted no- why are you asking for your letter back?” 

 

Asch was sure her face betrayed her, and truly she didn’t know why she was troubling herself now. 

 

She did, but she would not admit it to herself. 

 

“I... was... angry,” She colours badly, and she can feel it on her face as she averts her gaze from his, “My decision to push the vote and deny the Sunreaver’s wasn’t one of... logic.” This wasn’t of logic either, but she decided to brush passed that. “Is there anything we can do?” 

 

“I-“ Khadgar was cut off by none other than Aethas “You’ve voted to deny my Sunreavers entrance?!” Aethas belts like a raging Phoenix, Asch straightens, her face a mix of horror and shame. Even furious he was handsome, it was irritating- the way his hair was wild around his face, the snarl and the flash of his green eyes. 

 

Asch twitched, looking at his face, watching a strange sorrow cross his face and erupt in anger, “How could you do this?!” His voice was far softer than it ever had been. “Wait!” Khadgar interjects swiftly, “Calm yourself. We can fix it.” Aethas sours up again, not comforted by his words at all, “Fix it? Fix it?! Why did you do it in the first place?!” Asch swallows, accepting the anger without a retort. “I made a mistake. I was angry before.... but after some... thought I- l...” Aethas blinks, face blank and Asch can see it dawn on him why exactly she was here. His cheeks became dusted with pink, then his gaze faded away from hers, a stubble lick of the lips before he addressed Khadgar “How do you believe this can be fixed then?” 

 

Asch perked a little as she realized his steps took him to stand closer to her, almost close enough that she could touch him if she reached out. Asch denied herself the pleasure and looked on to Khadgar, who seemed very pleased, “Appeal to the council to revote, the Kirin Tor memebers have a right to dispute bills and laws to repeal them, I will protest your vote, Archmage and we will have a council meeting to determine the value of the bill.” 

 

Aethas visibly perked up, but then deflated in the same breath, “The others voted to deny as well. If you repealed the vote, would those who voted no- would they still not have the favour?” Khadgar shakes his head, smiling devilishly, “It was a split vote to begin with, Asch had the deciding vote. I will press where I can, assist in swinging the votes- or keeping them the same, either way. Your Sunreavers will be admitted after we have the council meeting.” 

 

Aethas looked overjoyed, his attention directed toward Asch in a manner quite unlike him, “I thank you than, Archmage Sunheart,” he begins, a knowing smirk “For reconsidering after... some thoughts.” Asch coloured and Aethas grinned wildly. Khadgar, thankfully is oblivious to the over-the-lime flirting and grins innocently, “Excellent! I shall be off then- Asch I will inform you myself of the meeting,” Khadgar says promptly, than adds, “Aethas I will ask if your attendance is welcome during the meeting.” Aethas smiles warmly, a surprisingly nice thing to see in Asch’s mind. 

 

“Thank you, I would appreciate attending.” He says, and without another word, and a shared simple nod, Khadgar hurried past them. 

 

 

“Devious girl,” Aethas purrs suddenly, the atmosphere shifting immediately, “The Ice Queen so easily melted, by none other than a simple kiss.” He says, Asch is ridged, a deer caught in a locked gaze with a predator, helplessly watching him approach without a word. “I wonder- what would turn her to puddles?” His voice was low, soft and lustful sounding, his hand is delicate as it presses on her side, his palm hot and fingers drumming gently as he hums in delight. 

 

 

“Shall I set you atop the desk, hm?” He coos, “so you can drip there?” Asch frowns deeply at his lustily words, her cheeks full and pink, “I’m not some cheep whore you can bend over a desk.” She bites, glaring at him. Aethas relents a little, nodding as his hands come up in defence “of course not, my lady.” He presses the words with elegance, a small amount of mocking but Asch allows it. “A lady such as yourself deserves only the finest bedding,” Aethas coos, bringing her closer with a tug on her waist, she stumbles into him, bracing her free hand against his arm as her staff makes a sickining sound as it drags against the floor. 

 

“You deserve to be pressed into Silvermoon silk sheets and want for nothing.” His lips drew closer to her ear and Asch jumped as he nipped it. 

 

Asch leans into his embrace, looking up at his smug expression, smiling deviously “I will want for nothing.” She states, “And it will be my merit that makes it so.” Asch kisses the side of his mouth and smiles perkily at his dumbfounded expression. Asch pulls on his collar, fixing it gently as she pats his chest, “And you should be so lucky to benefit with me.” Aethas’ expression quickly bounces back and his hand squeezes her hip “Is that an invitation?” He asks, smirking.

 

 

Asch grins, pushing away from him, swaying her hips as she walks toward the portal left open by Khadgar’s departure, “Not in the slightest.” And with that, Asch leaves.

 

 

Aethas follows her without a thought, catching up to her easily, in truth Asch allowed him to reach her, and promptly smiles smugly, feeling cocky. “Would you accept an invitation to dinner- if I offered it?” He asks, jogging up next to her. Asch continues to walk, feeling the sun hit her face as they leave down the steps “I’m having dinner with Vereesa tonight.” She says, spinning to face him, “I should like to see you attend.” Aethas pulls a face, but Asch continues “It might improve your chances- don’t worry, you can pay.” She giggles at his face, “That isn’t what I had in mind.” He states flatly, glaring slightly. 

 

 

Asch smiles, watching his face soften as he sees her innocent joy, “Maybe if you impress her I’ll allow you to ask me to dinner again.” Asch watches confusion shift down his face, the turn of his jaw making her nearly giggle “Allow me?!” He mutters, blinking rapidly. Asch hums, “Mhm. You didn’t think my company was a privilege freely given to you- did you?” Aethas now snorts, laughing softly at her, shaking his head “As the lady says.” Still, he looks confused, “Shall I pick you up for this?” Of course Asch shakes her head, and says, “No, we will meet here,” she gestured to the tavern across from all the various shops, attached to the toy shop. 

 

 

“Hm.” Aethas huffs, nodding, despite being perplexed. Asch, satisfied with herself nods, “I will see you in an hour.” 

 

 

Aethas waited just outside the tavern, watching as people of all kinds filtered in and out, keeping his eye on the busy streets of Dalaran, watching for either Asch or Vereesa to saunter toward the tavern. Aethas adjusted his silk long sleeve shirt. The colour of it was white, it’s sleeves puffed around his wrists and the string lacing the front together laced a little, showing a bit of his chest. Aethas tucked most of the shirts length into his belt, which was black, accented with gold thread and tied off at his side. His pants were fitting to his legs, black to match and his boots hugged his legs and cut off closely just below his knee. 

 

 

Aethas already felt too dressed for the place Asch and Vereesa chose to eat, but nearly everything he owned wasn’t meant for something so casual. 

 

Aethas perked as he saw Asch and Vereesa, both were laughing, but as they approached Vereesa lost her joyous expression as she saw him. Aethas nodded once to be polite, but turns his attention toward Asch, who looked rather pretty. Her hair was perfectly in place, a perfect up-do, made of braids and little white flowers. Her dress was flowy, cut just above her knees and a pale yellow, laced with little flower details around her long sleeves and tall, bold yellow heels to match. 

 

Asch smiles at him, cheeks warm as she approaches him “Archmage.” She says, fat too professional considering the things shared between them, but the benefit, he knew, was for Vereesa. Aethas bows deeply in response, “Ladies.” Vereesa looks irritated and scowls sharply, Asch licks her lips, her eyes glacing awkwardly between them both “Shall we?” 

 

They were given a rounded booth in the back part of the pub and Aethas made a point to sit close to Asch, they were served drinks and Aethas decided on a red wine, since there was little else that didn’t taste like cheap swell. Asch, despite what he had seen, chose white wine and Vereesa chose gin that couldn’t have been anything tasteful. 

 

 

“How are my Rhonin’s weapons treating you?” Vereesa asks around the lip of her glass, a fondness in her voice. Asch swirls the white liquid, taking rather small sips of it, “Wonderfully- I’ve gotten used to the weight of them.” Vereesa grins at her words, nodding “He insisted upon using a sword, he was quite skilled- as you know.” Aethas continues to stay quiet, simply listening to the girls reminisce, actually intrigued as he knew little of the man himself besides the legend.

 

“I remember. He would practice with me, never let me win.” Asch laughs, but there was a little weight behind it, the kind Aethas didn’t like very much. “My boys miss him so much. They look so much like him.” Vereesa sighs, eyes far away and slightly teary. Asch nods, “They can have books-“ Asch was cut off “Oh no, no!” Vereesa shakes her head, smiling, “He left those to you.” Aethas frowns in thought, deciding to speak “What did Rhonin leave you?” It was a human custom, to leave things to those they wished, unlike the elven races, who’s possession are only given to the next in line. 

 

 

Vereesa looks annoyed that he spoke, but Asch helpfully answers him, “All of his work, his tomes, journals- some items.” This puzzles him even more, why had Asch been given so much of his estate? “Most things my boys shouldn’t touch.” Aethas raises a brow, “Are they not showing talent for magicks?” Vereesa shrugs at his question, “Some, it is hard to say for now. My Rhonin encouraged them to do as they wished, if either show promise Asch would become their teacher, just as Rhonin was hers.” 

 

 

Aethas eyes Asch from the side as Vereesa allows him a little insight, “He cared so greatly for you,” Vereesa says, eyes already looking glassy from the alcohol. Aethas can see how pink her face turns at Vereesa’s words and feels the pangs of jealously in his stomach as she says, “O-Oh I... t-thank you...” her voice betrayed her emotion, but Vereesa could not see it, either because she was tipsy or didn’t want too. 

 

 

When their food arrives it goes much the same, they talk of Rhonin and continue to drink, Aethas had stopped after his first, and as he sobered he watched them become drunker. Vereesa was a light weight and giggly, while Asch didn’t outwardly show it, her speech was stuttered and her eyes were dark. Aethas had nearly enough of it as they begun to finish, of course he paid for them all, irritated but unmentioned. 

 

Vereesa swayed as they walked out and Aethas watched Asch carefully, muscles tensed and ready incase she fell. All of them made it down the steps and ended where they had begun, on the coloured cobble stone, under a now lit street light. 

 

“We will do this again soon Asch,” Vereesa says with surprising grace, Asch nods eagerly, “Yes... we... we will!” Aethas watched them hug and Asch pecks her lips with affection before letting her go and they both watch Vereesa hearth home. Asch turns to him and smiles, her eyes focusing on his face with ease “Thank you... this... this was nice.” Aethas offers a smile, but cannot bring himself to mean it. “Take me home...?” Aethas blinks, inhaling deeply, “Of course.” 

 

The portal was prompt and the snow was cold, Aethas was not dressed for the weather where she lived, but neither was she and together they hurried into her cottage, kicking off snow at her door as Aethas closed it shut. 

 

 

Aethas creates a fire as Asch moves to her counter, she collects a bottle of wine and two glasses, Aethas did not think he would be staying, but is welcomed onto her sofa by her beckon. “I believe you made a... good impression upon Vereesa.” She starts, curling her feet under her. Aethas drinks the wine given to him, it was high in quality and tasted faintly of strawberries. “Is that right?” He quirks a brow, watching her nod aimlessly, eyes far away again. “Her good graces w-will help with- with Jaina.” Aethas had forgotten how close those two were, he had not considered the connection until now, which had started to become a web as he mapped it out in his head. 

 

 

Asch was Jaina’s proxy, who was also the Aunt of Anduin, High King Varian’s son, not to mention she was also the lover of Kalec, a member of the council of six. The more he thought about it the wider, and more tangled it all became, but one glaring fact stood out among the chaos of it all. 

 

Asch has very close ties to very important people. 

 

Although, Aethas could say the same about himself as well, he was close friends of Rommath, despite their rocky beginning, which in turn allowed him to become friends of both Halduron Brightwing and Lor’themar Theron, the leader of his people. 

 

Aethas pulled a face, his ears tilting back like long blades of grass blown in the wind, Aethas drank very little and could feel it swirling in his belly and before he knew it, his vision had wavered and he said, “Did you love him?” 

 

There was a pregnant pause, a deadly, dark and awful one. Asch could not meet his eye, those pretty blue eyes were caught staring at the little pool left in her glass, her mouth tight and pulled into an awkward knit. Asch never offered any information about her time as a student, under Rhonin, nothing personal was ever shared, nothing professional either. Aethas read the mountain of files, cover to cover, the notes left about progress and the way Asch had trouble with forming fireballs. How proficient she was with ice and just how advanced her skill had become in a short time, the injuries and success, even pages of praise Rhonin left. 

 

“I... I should go to bed...” Asch lamely whispers, her glass scraps along the table as she places it down. Aethas is dumbfounded as he just watches her uncurl her feet from under her and brush her yellow dress in place, attempting to unwrinkle the fabric. Suddenly, Aethas springs into action, a rage he had not seen in days clouding his mind, the full force of a gashing wolf baring into its cage. 

 

“You do!” He barks, watching her cringe as she scurries down the stairs, Aethas biting at her heels. “What is this then?!” He belts, knowing he would get no answer, “Am I simply his replacement?!” Aethas was no fool, he saw her staring at his fiery hair, he knew what it was a reminder of. Aethas just didn’t think that was the only reason she entertained his affections. 

 

Aethas felt the cage inside him rattle and he could not believe how easily this woman had charmed him, his father would be ashamed. No longer, he would not allow her to control him anymore, he would assert his dominance and rein in her behaviour.

 

Asch was light and quick on her toes as she hurried like a frightened bunny into her bedroom, she tried to close the door, but did not have the strength to oppress his advance and he wrectched open the door, letting it bang against the frame, the sound making her jump. Aethas grabbed her, pushing her against the wall, the wind escaped her in a gasp, and finally she stopped moving to escape him. 

 

 

Aethas glares, face so close he could smell the scented soap in her hair, Asch was cowering between his arms, unable to meet his eye as he towers over her, “Did he bring you pleasure with that tiny cock of his?” He hisses, fists straining into the wall, his knuckles stabbing into the stone. “Did you scream his name? Does his wife know?” He laughs, ogling her figure unabashed “Does Vereesa know how wet Rhonin made you?” Asch swallows, lip quivering and tears threatening to fall, he laughs cruelly, “I should show you how a real man fucks.” 

 

 

Suddenly hands pushed into his chest, gripping the fabric, Aethas is caught off guard by the sudden boldness of it and finds himself slightly irritated until he sees her face, the fierce red across her nose and the hard line across her lips. Aethas’ brow furrows as he regards Asch, watching with great suspicion as she yanks him down until he’s crouched. Aethas feels her soft lips press into his with hesitance, they felt plump and felt so nicely against his. Aethas snaps back to himself and yanks her away from the wall, snarling into her mouth as he overtakes the kiss. His lips violently sought her in a bout of thrashing, teeth and tongue. Aethas does not settle until she’s completely consumed, his tongue forcing the pace, fast and rough, angry as he felt. Her head fully pulls back, just bracing with his abuse, her hands shake and clench his shirt, angry little nails digging crescents into his chest. 

 

Aethas leans into her, hands groping her without shame as he leads them toward her pump, bubble shaped bottom, his finger tips dig into her backside, lifting her up with transparent need. “Mh-!” Asch whines, hands shoving at his chest as he ignores her,  gripping her flesh over her dress, carrying her toward the giant fluffy bed, dropping her onto it without ceremony. Aethas listens to her gasp for breath, looking like a pale flame atop the furs, eyes furrowed, her fingers touching her swollen lips. “Have you even been with your own kind?” He sneers, throwing his shirt off to expose his sun kissed chest “Or do you only spread your legs for human scum?” Asch sits taller, pure rage in her eyes as she stares at him. “Have you been with anyone at all? Or have you spent your days slinking around doorways gripping your own cock?” Asch spat at him.

 

Arthas glares darkly, before kicking his boots off, climbing onto the bed like a hungry wolf. Aethas grabs her ankle, yanking until she was flat on her back, Aethas smirked at her angry outburst, her skin was warm where he touched, along her knee and outer thigh was smooth and soft, “Stop!” She cries out, hands pushing her dress down, squeezing her thighs together. Aethas’ brow draws, watching her scramble to sit up. Aethas tilts his head, snarling, “oh? Too scared? Am I being rougher than your precious Rhonin?” Asch looks away from him, a bloom of shame and anger folding across her face.

 

Aethas smugly watches as she gathers herself, head drawn down as she grabs her skirts and nudges her way over to him. Curiously Aethas waits to see her next move, interested as she straddles his hip with shaking legs, but firm eyes. Aethas allows her to kiss him, soft and pretty, much like her. 

 

Aethas feels his back press into the headboard, his neck bending back into the wall, he indulges her as she pools her dress between them, her steady fingers unlacing his pants, Aethas intakes softly as her hand pulls his cock from its confines, “Bigger than his-“ he’s cut off by her mouth reattaching to his, and Aethas can feel her cheeks burning as she inexpertly wraps her fingers loosely around his shaft, barely jerking his cock, until she seized hold and tugged it sharply. Aethas yelps in pain, but it quickly turns into a grievous snarl, Asch deepens the kiss, a way of apology, he thinks, but he can feel a devious smile as she does so. 

 

Aethas attempts to move his arms, but is stopped short as his muscles merely jerk, Aethas breaks the kiss and frantically glances at his arms, noticing bindings made of arcane linked to the headboard and holding him still. Asch giggles as Aethas snarls at her, yanking against the chains holding him, unable to move them Aethas begins concentrating on dispelling the magic, until he feels Asch’s hand squeeze his cock again, a small threat that had him hissing at her and relenting. 

 

“You really are oblivious so long as your cock is being touched, aren’t you? ” Asch coos, a triumphant little smirk across her mouth. Aethas feels her shift in his lap, his cock left on his thigh and despite his ire he finds pleasure as he watches her lift herself to pull her little panties off. Aethas growls softly, a hum of approval as he realizes they were yellow and laced, like her dress still pooled between their embrace. Aethas licks his lips as her panties reach her knees, one leg at a time she strips them off and carelessly flings them onto her carpet.

 

Aethas opens his mouth, only to find that his tongue feels like a bag of sand in his mouth, unable to form words with it. Asch looks him in the eyes as she slowly lowers herself onto him, her pink slit hovering less than an inch above his cock, as it twitches and throbs, desperate. Suddenly Asch presses his cock flat against his body with her hand, before lowering onto his cock, letting it press slightly against the warm and wet lips. Aethas jolts with the feeling, the slick seeping onto his cock and driving him wild with frustration, as all he could do was stare and silently beg for her to continue. With a shy smile, Asch slowly begins to rock back and forth on his cock, her puffy lips gliding along his slick cock with ease, sending tingles through Aethas’ entire body that made him want to break his arcane shackles, bend her over and fuck her until dawn rises. 

 

Asch bites her lip, quickly kissing his lips again, gasping into his mouth as she arches against his cock. Aethas sink’s into the bed, comfortable in the pillows and lost in the pleasure. Asch inhales, eyes fluttering shut as she leans away from him, her cunt soft and warm against him, but unmoving as Asch lifts her dress over her head, displaying herself to him completely. “You h-haven’t been able t-to stop staring, I-I decided to indulge y-you,” Asch says, voice noticeably lacking her earlier confidence. 

 

Aethas stares wide eyed, tracking her figure as he soaked the image in with his eyes, staring longingly at the perky pink nipples protruding delicately from her breasts.

 

Asch, as if sending his intentions, leans into him, her soft nipples press with a feather like touch against his chest. Arthas inhales as his wet cock sits lonely against his stomach, pressed between the heat of their bodies, with her movement it slides flatly between them, a sweet torture. Thankfully, Asch reaches between them and wraps her fingers around his cock, slowly jerking it. Aethas’ eyelids flutter shut, unable to do anything else until she raises herself above him once more. 

 

Deliberately Asch hesitates, still standing on her knees, looking between them with slight mortification, Aethas grins “What?” His voice holds a coo, “Too big for you?” Asch scowls at him “Just... let me...” she trails off, biting her lip. Aethas sighs sharply, pain throbbing in his cock, but he relents unable to do anything else but wait. 

 

Without masking his interest, Aethas watches without shame as her cunt lips flutter open as she parts her legs, hovering above his endowment. Asch’s chest heaves as the head touches her, Aethas lets out a soundless sigh in pleasure, lids fluttering, but he wouldn’t allow them to close as she gently takes the head of his cock inside her, thrusting shallowly as she gets used to the feeling. Aethas’ mouth hangs open as his cock barely graced the inside of her. Suddenly her cunt sinks down him and Aethas jumps at the tightness surrounding him, his eyes widened as she whimpers quietly, his cock forcing her open and Aethas is completely overtaken as he watches blood roll down his cock, covering his shaft in warm and wet realization. 

 

“I’m your first?!” He belts, continuing to stare as she slowly sinks down until her cunt takes him completely. “Y-Yes.” She grinds out, too focused on breathing “N-Now please s-stop t-talking ah- about R-Rhonin-“ Aethas groans as her cunt clenches around him “Fuck.” Is the little he can manage in response. Asch barely lifts herself off him, thrusting gently as she got used to the feeling. Aethas chirps in absolute pleasure “you wanted the first thing inside you to be my cock-“ Asch covers is mouth with her hands, eyes locked shut as she fucks herself “S-Stop saying that-“ he grins into her palm, chuckling as he leans away from her hand, “What? Cock?” Asch shivers and it feels delightful “Do you like it?” He purrs, “My cock?” Asch’s lips press together as she stifles a moan from escaping “Your pretty little cunt takes it so nicely- like you were made for my cock.” Asch hisses out in displeasure as his words, hand pressing over his mouth now tightly, frost cooling his skin, but the way her thighs quiver against his and how harsh her cunt grips him allows him to know she likes it, but does not press his luck much further.

 

“What a surprise,” he says honestly, addled with arousal “You’d... give such a... treasure to me... mhm...” as he speaks the chains around his arms vanish as her concentration is broken and as quickly as he can before she realizes his thumb begins to play with her clit watching the rosy pink turn into an aggravated, beautiful red shade. “Ahh- ah....” Asch gasps, leaking onto his thighs as she rolls her hips in time with the motion. “Look how.. pretty you are...” he huffs, slightly struggling to speak now as she gets slicker, thrusting faster. Aethas let the possessive pleasure wash over him, the tingling feeling under his skin as he grips her soft thighs, stomach rippling as her sweaty hands pressed there for leverage. Aethas’ mind churned as he suddenly remembered her binding him to the bed, unable to do much as say a word.

 

With a snarl under his breath he rolls them over. Asch loudly gasps, breasts heaving as his mouth attacks them in a armada of licking and sucking, deep sounds escaping his throat as he controls the friction, pounding into her with expert, practiced motions. Asch is inconsolable, wailing desperately as her hands grip his back, pulling him closer, and he happily goes. “Oh- oh please- ah-“ Asch begs, but neither of them know for what. Aethas kisses her collarbone practically aching now as his cock is squeezed “Oh- oh A-Aethas-“ he bites her ear as she comes, enjoying the sound of it and purring viciously as he rams his cock into her, halting and pressing himself as close as he could before gasping gently as his finish pumped into her.  

 

   

Aethas rolls off her, panting deeply, staring at the ceiling as he lays there, composing himself. Asch shifts beside him, turning into her pillows “The guest bed is-“ 

 

“Oh I don’t think so.” Asch yelps suddenly as he pulls her into his embrace, “Not after that.” Aethas feels her tense up, and not even a second passes before her hands shove at him and Aethas suddenly finds himself on the floor. “You don’t decide what happens in my own home,” Asch states, face boiling. Arthas looks up at her, remembering how stubborn she is, he snorts and mutters a quick apology. Asch makes no response as he gets up, leaning into the bed as she sinks into it, eyeing the line of his hair, glancing downward, “You’re covered in... blood.” 

 

 

Aethas looks down, noticing the smeared and dried red colour “So are you.” He comments idly, knowing neither of them were going to clean it. “What happens now?” She states firmly, “Are you still going to be awful?” Aethas snorts again “I will attempt... not to be awful.” Asch eyes him, suspicion swimming across her vision, “You didn’t... do this... so I would agree to let... your Sunreavers in Dalaran- did you?” Aethas blinks, shaking his head quickly “I didn’t.” Asch must have seen the genuineness in his voice and face because she smiles gently, seemingly convinced “You’ve still been terrible to me.” 

 

Arthas grins wolfishly, hand brushing toward her in the bed, “I can continue, if you like?” He coos, “I haven’t seen you bent over yet.” Asch’s demeanour turns to ice, glaring thinly, and Aethas sighs, he can tell he had pressed his luck too far. “Guest room.” 

 

Chapter 151: Illidan Omegaverse dabbles 1

Summary:

Illidan Stormrage/Asch Redfires

So this is something new I’m trying, my original Illidan stuff ran dry a little so I thought I’d revamp him with an AU at the suggestion of a friend, I used Omegaverse.

Let me know in the comments below if you want this to have its own, far more in depth story, of course this one will be in depth as well, but more focused on the couple aspect of both Illidan and Asch rather then their individual arcs, so if you’d like to see that let me know!

Otherwise enjoy!

Chapter Text

Illidan can see the sun through the trees as he stares up into the canopy, not intending to do anything but lay there lazily and waste the day, he can count the individual leaves by the shades provided by the hanging sun overheard. His eyes trace the greeny, the shape of the leaves and how some barely have yellow melting into their healthy sage colour. 

 

The air was dewy, it smelt like fresh rain, droplets rolled from bushes, dampening the grass, even where Illidan lays the grass was wet, but it didn’t disturb his peace, his back was wet, but it felt nice against his warm skin. Rustling caused his ears to twitch in the direction of the sounds, tilting his head slightly, he could see both his twin and Tyrande carefully stepping around the brush, their hands connected innocently as they smiled in recognition of him. 

 

 

“Brother!” Mal cheers, a smile across his face, “I had thought you might be here!” Illidan gives a gentle smile in return, watching Tyrande pull her robes from the ground, though to the ankle it was already darkened with wetness from the travel here. “Were you looking for me?” Illidan grins lopsidedly, watching Tyrande grimace as she sits in the wet grass and Mal appears only slightly disturbed as he leans on his knees, both look ready to stand up, which indicates that they were to retrieve him. 

 

“Yes, but it isn’t pressing yet,” Mal says kindly, allowing himself to settle, though Tyrande does not appear happy with the decision and speaks herself, “Your parents are looking for you.” She has a scolding look about her and Illidan inwardly groans as he knows what is coming next “It isn’t wise to be alone- especially in the coming days.” Illidan scowls toward the sky once more, glaring sharply at a leaf that has snapped off it’s branch, beginning it’s decent toward the earth, a sign of changing seasons, a sign of changing for them all. 

 

 

Illidan was seldom allowed peace since his coming of age, Malfurion was quite mature in his handling of it compared to his elder twin, where Illidan loathed to be watched after, Malfurion bathed in the attention. Illidan huffs through his nose, in a matter of days now they would present and most already knew what the twins would come to be. 

 

 

It was greatly expected for both of them to present as Alpha’s, of the two Illidan was sure he would present as a very high level, where when he considered his bother he believe that it was possible he could as well, but there was a small possibility of his presenting to be a lower statue. 

 

 

Illidan heaves himself up from the grass, he feels clippings stick to his skin, the feeling wasn’t unpleasant, to most it would have been, but to Illidan he enjoyed the feeling of the earth across his skin. “Whatever for?” He says coyly, a comical brow raised, even as Tyrande’s face grows foul at his games. “Malfurion!” She gripes, looking to his twin too reason with him. Malfurion regards her with a tired smile, shrugging ”Illidan you know it’s dangerous for you to be alone, come,” he gestures with his hand, baring down on one knee as he eases up to stand “We can do as we like, but under watchful eyes.” Illidan rolls his eyes at his choice of words. 

 

 

“As you say then.” Illidan says, deciding not to protest any longer, having already caused enough trouble he would surly hear about soon. 

 

Their return to the village was a spectacule, most eyes turn to the twins, watching as they saunter passed to their home. Both their mother and father were standing in front of their burrow. Illidan glancing toward his parents as Malfurion waves toward them, though they do not bother to approach home, their parents are satisfied that both are at least close by. 

 

 

Instead Tyrande leads Malfurion by the hand toward the inner parts of the village, swinging his arm widely, nearly hitting Illidan who was unfortunate to be behind the two. Illidan frowns despite himself, disliking the feeling in the pit of his stomach as he watches them squeeze their fingers together. Tyrande was a beautiful women, one that Illidan would have as his mate as soon as she presented along with him, but she could never be an Omega, it was extremely unlikely- impossible even. The woman before him, radiant as ever could only become one thing; an Alpha. Alpha’s coupling wasn’t unheard of, but greatly disapproved of. Illidan did not believe he would pair well with her, despite how his heart felt. 

 

 

“Asch!” Tyrande has lead them though the thickets toward the more burried homes. Illidan looks passed them both, easily seeing over his brothers shoulder to the yard fenced in with well linked wood. Just beyond the path was Asch, who was sitting on her legs beside a full basket of wild flowers. In her hands was a crown made of little white blossoms, her hands stop working and she looks up toward them, a smile across her face as she recognizes their faces. 

 

 

Illidan watches her set aside the crown in the basket and lift herself from the spot, carrying her dress high in her hands, even though it was damp and dark from the wet grass. Beneath where she was the grass hand settled into a dent, a small oval shape that made Illidan smile. “Hello Mal! Tyrande!” She says first, looking between the two, then her eyes land upon Illidan and the two stare at one another before she smiles brightly for him, “Hello Illidan!” She was always a sunbeam, but Illidan found she has a special kindness for him and he too couldn’t help but be softer in response. 

 

“Will you walk with us?” Tyrande suggests, swaying her herself toward the gate, bringing Malfurion along with her. Asch eagerly nods, her long white hair bouncing excitedly in motion with it. “I have gifts for you!” She says, and hurried to the basket of flowers. All of them watch her pull out three crowns of flowers, all different colours and sizes. As she skips back toward them Illidan can see the colours more clearly, in her hands was a string crown of green and white flowers, another with purple and blues, and the last purple and black flowers. 

 

 

Tyrande accepts the crown of white and green gracefully, squealing in excitement for it and Malfurion bows his head as Asch places the purple and blue crown atop his head. Finally Asch looks toward Illidan and Malfurion has to move so he may accept his. Illidan blinks at her offering, unsure of what to make of it, “Do you like it?” Asch asks, Illidan swallows, mouth suddenly full of saliva, eyes a bit dizzy “I... I do-“ he struggles out, shaking his head, allowing himself to bend toward her. Illidan feels his throat constrict, his head swimining as he shakily breathed. 

 

 

Illidan recoils suddenly, his nose flaring as all the scents around him became amplified, everyone around him suddenly jerked in response and he desperately swallows the foul taste in his mouth. Illidan stares wide eyes, his teeth aching now as he flashes his eyes to everyone around him, but they lock onto Asch, who in turn as grown still and her already pink skin becoming darker from her forehead to her feet. Her lips quiver and her chest shakes with her quick panting. “Tyrande-“ before Malfurion could try, she already knew what to do, Illidan digs his nails into his palm and he begins to smell the sweet scent of something- something he cannot describe, but it comes from Asch and he cannot help but reach for it. 

 

 

Unknown to him until he cannot move any closer, Malfurion has a tight hold on his arms and Tyrande, already on the other side of the fence is dragging Asch into her arms, pulling her away from Illidan swiftly, calling for someone. “Lord Redfires!” The distress was obvious and Illidan could feel himself snarling but he ears are blind to it until the trill rips from his chest louder than before. 

 

From the house Lord Redfires is clapping the door open, his eyes wide and ears standing at attention. Tyrande pulls Asch into his embrace and her father is petting her sweat covered head, cooing soft nothings “Get him away from here!” Lord Redfires bites sharply, and Illidan hisses in protest as his brother drags him, his stomach boiling and abdomen tight. Beside him Malfurion is yelling apologies. Before he realized his father is pulling him as well, and the world blurred as Illidan tired to push against the two, snarling and muscles tense. 

 

 

 

Illidan feels sweat pooling across his skin as Malfurion hauls him into his room, his brother speaking soft, kind words that are lost to his ears as he feels his chest contract another deep snarl, his teeth are coated in foul liquid and Illidan swallows it, his eyes unseeing and full of rage. His mind swam with the scent from Asch, his mind finally able to decide the smell of it; sweet honey and vanilla orchids. His abdomen twists and he pain between his legs is unbearable, the beating of his heart pounds in his ears and he cannot hear it only feel the sharp pain between his lobes, Malfurion leaves, the door locking shut behind him. 

 

 

Illidan feels his spine curl, his hands claw the bed beneath him and his teeth clench together is fury, his hips rut against nothing. beyond the room, both Malfurion, Tyrande and their parents stands worriedly downstairs, their lips all stressed between their teeth. 

 

 

“Malfurion are you alright?” His father asks, worried after his son, pressing the back of his hand across his forehead. Malfurion shakes, “Dizzy father- but I... I don’t think it is my time yet.” Tyrande grips his arm, “Asch presented with him- I think- I think it was because of Asch that... that Illidan...” they all look at one another, Malfurion glances at his mother, then his father, who can only sigh “Tyrande it’s best you return home now.” Tyrande grips Malfurion’s arm harder, hesitating badly “Come, I will take you child.” His mother says, pulling her from Malfurion. “Y-Yes of... of course- find me after this is over, beloved.” Tyrande whispers the end of it, and Malfurion settles, nodding solemnly.

 

 

Watching his mother leave with her was painful, but his father quickly distracts him, “Illidan is an Alpha.” He says, both of them able to hear the aggravated sounds through the wooden floor, “It could be a mere matter of hours for you, my son.” Malfurion swallows, nodding cautiously, looking at anything but his father’s face. 

 

 

Illidan was born eight minutes before him, and Malfurion tasted nothing in his mouth as he stood with his father, terrified. 

Chapter 152: Illidan Omegaverse dabbles 2

Summary:

Illidan Stormrage/Asch Redfires

Enjoy! A few of you have messaged me over tumblr and it’s really sweet how supportive you are! So thank you!

Chapter Text

True to his father’s words Malfurion found himself writhing against his bed, pain blooming in his belly as his mouth filled with foul saliva that he dared to spit from his mouth, it was heavy in his tongue and stuck to his throat. Both twins were snarling and thrashing, their minds lost as they experienced their presenting, Illidan would be finished with his two days before Malfurion would and the scent of another Alpha already irritated Malfurion into a frenzy of hissing and snarling, it wouldn’t be until after the dust settled that they both would be eased. 

 

Even his father’s scent was overbearing and aggravating, Malfurion registered his anger quickly and could not stifle his rage, though his father was only trying to help. Numerous times he could hear his father peeking in the room, and found absoutle rage each time. 

 

The world had blurred and he could not tell the difference between night or day- not how long it had been since it had began, or how much longer it would be. Malfurion remembers recoiling at the taste in his mouth, spitting it all over the threadbare rug and promptly being taken to the safety of his room to hiss and sweat into his sheets. 

 

Pain flared between his legs and he curled in the bed, Malfurion growls openly, baring his hips into the bed, trying to stem the pain raditating from his groin. Malfurion yells in fury, banging his closed fist into the wall, saliva drooling from the corner of his mouth. His teeth felt unnatural to him, from the root to the sharp points, they dig into the wall of his cheek as he struggles to contain his furious bellowing. 

 

 

Beside him, between a thick wall of the wood carved tree of their home, Illidan was inconsolable. His mouth hanging open as he pants angrily, his knees digging into his bed, the sheets drenched with sweat. His fist squeezes his newly formed knot, the bulbous flesh beating like a second heart under his grip. Below his hips was a puddle of his finish, despite how many times he finished his cock would not soften, his aggressive treatment was rubbing his tender skin raw, but Illidan could hardly feel it behind the painful pleasure. 

 

Hours had passed with the same result, he would gasp in pain, the pulsing between his legs jerking him awake, forcing him to rut into his hand until it ebbed away by force. Illidan was exhausted, but as he lay there the feeling of his sweat and finish kept him awake and aware of the new forming incessant twitching between his thighs. It was all made worse by the smell that he could not escape, the honey and vanilla that was so unfairly pressed into him. 

 

As a younger man, when his father sat he and his brother down he spoke of the first time they would smell an Omega, the first and only scent that would ruin them. Illidan had not thought he would experience this when he presented, but not naive enough to think he would forever avoid the scent of an Omega, one in heat or otherwise. Father was sure that it would be their mother, at least then it wouldn’t be painful as it was. Malfurion seemed lucky enough to escape the smell of a virile Omega, but Illidan could not detach himself from any of it. The smell of her, the vision of her with crowns of flowers in her hands. 

 

How she shook and only stared at him as it all happened. 

 

 

They had been childhood friends, the four of them were inseparable, nothing could part them- nothing but their caste. Illidan had never thought about what she might become, his mind always somewhere else, but now he could not go a moment without thinking of Asch. He was an Alpha and she an Omega, and she was beautiful. That was something he did know of, a fact that escaped no one. Asch became an absolute vision as they matured. Malfurion even thought of her as a great beauty, but his eyes were already cast upon Tyrande. 

 

 

Illidan saw no hope for the two now, in fact it saddens him a degree, Tyrande would present as an Alpha- there was a chance, but only a small one, that she may present as a Beta, but it is widely known Alpha’s cannot tolerate Beta mates for long. It is only nature to seek an Omega, and it was a pity she would not become that. 

 

Illidan lets a trill of annoyance leave his chest, slumping into his sheets as sweat rolls down his face. He did not know how much longer he would suffer this, but he prayed to the Goddess it would end soon. 

 

 

Illidan gulps for breath, a terrible ache in his empty stomach as he wakes, his eyes cloudy and mind lost, every sound is too loud for his ears. The pain was dull and he shifts in his side, looking over his room and inhaling the awful scent of the days passed. There was a stir at his door and carefully it opens, revealing his father, who looks relieved. “You’re awake,” he sounds surprised, Illidan swallows, but his throat is dry. “It’s over, son.” He promises, opening the door fully, letting cool, fresh air into his space. Illidan basks in the feeling of it. 

 

“Come down stairs, you need to eat.” Illidan’s muscles feel weak as he rises, the weight in his arms changed, his feet touch the cold floor and his father watches him carefully as they walk down the stairs. “Malfurion is experiencing his first rut, just as you have.” Illidan soaks in the words as his mother places assorted foods in front of him. Illidan is ravenous, his father sits with him, while his mother takes linens from the closet, presumably to care for his room. 

 

 

Illidan goes at the food in a flurry, his father sits across from him and is silent for the moment, before speaking “Lord Redfires came a day before.” This makes Illidan’s head bolt from its hunched position “He is furious with you.” His father sighs, shaking his head “You imprinted on each other.” Illidan swallows, shocked, his father nods, continuing “His wishes are that you stay away from her.” Illidan frowns deeply, confused firstly as to why, and decides to voice his concern “Oh?” He hums, did her father fear he could not provide for her? Was he only angry because she had presented because of him? What exactly had it felt like for her? 

 

Omega’s weathering heats alone already was painful for them, but to be imprinted to an Alpha during the first? Illidan could hardly imagine her pain. 

 

“I cannot say why, for he did not say. Only that he was angry and would allow nothing more between you.” Illidan felt stung by this, the most forward emotion was anger, pure agitation at the simple thought of it. The idea to defy his wishes a forefront in his mind as Illidan finishes his food, his father must have known it by the look upon his face, but he did not speak words of pause, instead wisdom. 

 

“Be careful in your decisions, most shall be irreversible,” he shrugs, “Such the nature.” Once more he pauses, hesitating before allowing himself to speak “She presents as a... high level- her heat has finished.” Illidan licks his lips clean, her heats would last many days, as long as his ruts, though his would be infrequent compared. “Don’t be foolish.” The look given was pointed, but his father says nothing as Illidan escapes the house, his intent well known and his course fast. 

 

 

The world around him was very different, he could smell everything about him and it was as though a veil had be lifted from his senses. The journey to Asch’s home was one full of looks and interest, the first of the two twins to present and everyone was curious. Illidan felt smug as he caught the scent of jealous Alphas and interested Omegas, but they were full to his nose, holding no captivation as he swiftly moves around the fence he knew all too well. 

 

Asch’s window was close to the ground and open to the fresh air, Illidan carefully inches toward it, pleasantly surprised at what he sees and smells. The scent of honey and vanilla wafts from the room and Asch is sitting curled upon her bed, walls of blankets surrounding each edge. “Asch...?” He calls quietly, swallowing heavily as he sees her ears perk. The blankets rustle a she’s shoves them from her, a generous smile spread along her face as she notices him in her window. “Illidan!” She squeaks, and his heart pounds excitedly in his chest as she rushes to her window. 

 

“You smell so different,” she first comments, nose fluttering as she inhales, not unlike a rabbit. Illidan grins, eyes racking over her frame, noticing that she had changed within the week. Her waist was smaller than it had been, her breasts had become fuller, and her beautiful face, somehow became more delightful to look upon. “As do you.” Asch’s lashes flutter prettily to his comment, and it’s almost unfair what it causes to stir in his belly. 

 

“Are you well?” Illidan wonders, hoping she would answer him truthfully, Asch bites her lip, hands gripping the window tightly “I am.” She promises, nodding eagerly and basking in his concern, “Was it painful?” Asch’s face drops, “Yes... b-but it’s alright-“ Illidan frowns, pushing into the frame of the window and without making a sound, he pulls himself inside, Asch flinches back in surprise a worried look upon her face. 

 

“Illidan- he’ll know you’re-“ Asch frantically looks about the room, her eyes dancing across his face before her teeth catch her pink lip, suddenly she is moving to her bed and pulling her blankets from the frame. Illidan inhales the scent of it, a bit overwhelmed as she wraps his shoulders in her covers, the scent of her heat still clinging to th fabrics. Illidan feels his stomach stir and he watches her ears fold against her head, and without meaning to, Illidan realizes he was purring. 

 

The sugary scent around her amplified and Illidan couldn't help be inch forward, “You smell delicious.” His voice drips with interest,  tongue heavy as she stares up at him “You... you smell like- like a... forest...?” Asch abruptly swallows, neck slowly angling to his intrusion. Illidan feels the soft skin of her neck, his sharp teeth pricking the tender skin as it rose with gooseflesh. With his blunt teeth he could feel her heart hammering, the faint taste of blood filling his mouth as the scent of steel faded in his nose. Asch’s hands grip his forearms, soft coos escaping through her pressed lips as Illidan brings them close together. 

 

 

Illidan’s teeth let her free and he laps at the broken skin, suddenly Asch is wretched from his arms, Illidan jolts, lips heavy with blood and eyes broken away from her face, only to find the eyes of her father, seething angrily as he shoves Asch behind him. “Get out!” Illidan squares his shoulders, irritation digging in his chest. “I will only tell you once, boy.” His voice grows darker, violent as the tension between them. “Illidan...” Asch is barely allowed to show her face behind her father, his shoving hand keeps her well held, but she moves enough so that Illidan may see her face. “Please. Just- please do as he asks...” Illidan felt betrayed in that moment, “What?!” He demands, lost as they look at one another “Please...” Illidan snarls, chin angled down, still in challenge. 

 

 

With a hiss he unfurls, whipping his body the way he came, the blanket flying off his shoulders, without another word, he thrusts himself from the window, stalking away in utter fury. 

Chapter 153: Illidan Omegaverse dabbles 3

Summary:

Illidan Stormrage/Asch Redfires

Sorry this one took a few more days than the last! I wanted to get the lore down best I could!

Enjoy!

Chapter Text

It had been weeks since either of them had seen Asch, Malfurion finally free of his rut and Tyrande had presented only a day later as an Alpha, both were excited and eager to spend time together, despite them all being Alphas their bonds of friendship had formed a pack and thankfully because of it they were not at each other’s throats. 

 

The two brothers sit in the grass, Illidan has been miserable since the last he saw Asch and Malfurion without asking knew why, both he and Tyrande were desperately attempting to be careful around him, doing anything they could to cheer him up, of course nothing worked, merely distracted him for a time before he begun to sulk again. 

 

 

Malfurion curls his knees into his chest, staring up at the clouds in the sky, just as peace settled between them, Tyrande breaks through the brush line, panting as she runs to them, “She’s leaving-“ she gasps, confusing them both, “Asch- her father- they’re moving away-“ Illidan jerks upright, fear coursing through his veins “Have they left already?” Malfurion asks, pulling himself to his feet, joining Tyrande as she grips her knees and breathes heavily “Soon! Illidan-!” Illidan reserves his expression, dulling as his despair sinks in, “What?” He mumbles, looking off into the tree line. 

 

“You have to see her!” Tyrande squeaks at him, Illidan snorts lowly, “Why? Just so her father can force me away once more?!” Malfurion’s face grows long, full of pain “Illidan... he will let you say your goodbyes.” Tyrande nods eagerly, adding “Yes with us there I promise he will- come... you... you have to say goodbye.” Malfurion extends his hand, offering it to Illidan and waiting. Illidan is tempted to swat it away and sit until the sun was lost to the moon, but Illidan would never forgive himself if he did not see her. 

 

 

Illidan felt distant as he observed the cart in front of Asch’s home, sitting full of the contents of their home. Illidan had not seen much of it, but is struck as he notices the contents of her room packed away in wicker baskets. Tyrande is the first through the gate and Malfurion is close behind, caught hand and hand with her. Illidan trudges though, tense and as they stop he curls his arms around his chest, face sour and eyes cast down. The grass beneath them was tended too, soft despite being clipped shorter. Illidan growls softly at all of it, until Malfurion bats his arm, forcing his eyes to look forward. 

 

 

Lord Redfires draws to his full height as he observes the three, glare solely reserved for Illidan, just as it grew heated, Asch pokes from behind her father, confused and eyes seeking. “Asch!” Tyrande yells, obviously trying to stem the awkwardness easing like the tide between them. “We’ve come to say goodbye!” Illidan resists at first, but with prodding from his twin, he finally forces himself along, unable to look anywhere but the print of his teeth along Asch’s neck. The skin was raised with the shape of each tooth that sunk into her flesh, a permanent reminder of what he intended, but unable to fulfil. 

 

 

“We came to see you off...” Tyrande murmurs, looking between she and Illidan watching them stare, unblinking toward one another. “Tyrande...” Malfurion whispers, tugging her from between them. “Asch...” Illidan chokes out, unable to stop his lip from quivering. Asch’s jaw clenches as tears fill her eyes, Illidan’s muscles tense, desperate to embrace her and hush them away. “I-I should- should l-like to see y-you a-as the first... first D-Druid o-of our pe-people...” Asch swallows, eyes cast down “N-Next I see y-you...” Illidan inhales sharply, nodding solemnly, “I would have you there.” He bites without meaning too, causing Asch to curl, her shoulders hiking toward her ears. “I-I’ll miss y-you...” she sniffles, letting tears bead down her skin. 

 

 

Illidan reaches his hand out, watching her father from the side pause and tense. Asch lifts her fist, he can see that her nails begin digging crescents into her palm as she releases her fingers, letting them run along his fingers and onto his palm. Asch grips him tightly, shaking as he returns it, careful of hurting her “I will see you again.” He promises, listening as her father barks at her. Asch quickly parts from him, wiping her face with the back of her hands, addressing Malfurion and Tyrande with a simple, wet smile, before climbing into the cart with her father’s help. 

 

The three Alphas watch the road, staring long after Asch had disappeared, the sad feeling among them, their pack smaller for it. 

 

 

Life had become bleak after Asch’s departure, his rage and depression a great barrier between himself and his goals, so much in fact Cenarius has turned from him, cast him out of his teachings, all because Illidan had no patients for his lessons. Now he stares at the empty home once occupied by Asch, everything he owned in a pack across his back, Malfurion had tried to convince him to stay, Tyrande as well, but without the teachings of Cenarius, there was nothing left for him here, instead he focused his interests for power, brought himself to alike minded people, and found companionship of a sort in the Moon Guard. 

 

 

Without much though too it, Illidan saunters toward the window once more, deciding to hazard a look inside of her empty room, and found it not as empty as he expected. Within the middle of the room sat her blanket, neatly folding in a square. Illidan leaves his belongings there by the window, propped on the wood as he climbs into her room, gathering himself before picking up the throw with both hands. There had been no note, but her scent was fresh across its fibers as he brought it close to him, Asch had left this for him, Illidan clutches it to his chest. 

 

 

The Moon Guard stronghold was bustling with Beta’s and Alpha’s alike, not one of them interested in his arrival, being just another student among the rest. The stronghold was vast, far more elegant than anything he had seen before in his life. The towers glistened with magic, glittering arcane. The cobblestone was unchipped and without speckles of filth, as Illidan examined the space he notices many brooms, seemingly moving by themselves, their bristled heads frantically cleaning dirty spots along the floors. 

 

 

Grand gates closed behind him and held wood carved leaves and flowers, the black metal keeping it secure decorated with flower details, climbing along the grey stone that made up the surrounding walls. Illidan pauses with the rest of the prospective students, puzzled, he looks forward. Illidan is greeted by the sight of an elderly Kaldorei, a man with many lines and deep blue hair, his face sunken. The scent that lingered to his skin was that of an aged Alpha, the meek scent of dried fruits invaded Illidan’s senses and caused him to sour in the face. 

 

His aged hand lifts to silence them all, and his tongue lulls to lick his lips wet before speaking “Welcome all,” his voice was riddled with grime, deep with disuse, a voice hardly used or used rarely at the volume he spoke now. “You have come to measure your talent, with discipled and study, you will find expection in your skills.” His age spotted hands gesture toward a few other men, dressed in fine robes, all possessing unique branch staffs, sizzling with different magicks. “I am a senior member of this order, you all may address me as Latosius.” Illidan inspects the rest of them carefully, paying little attention to the elders ongoing speech. 

 

The first to the right of Latosius was and Alpha covered in refinement, robes lush red and fiery, his staff long and the crest of it shaped like an gnarled hand, the finger tips barely holding a orange gem of some kind. The next was another Alpha, his robes a deep blue, the line from his chest to the floor  covering in a pattern of twinkling white stones, his staff a simple pole shape, an orb of cloudy blue sitting fastened to its top with vines and twine. 

 

The last was a Beta and his was more reserved, his robes were a deep brown, hardly any intricacies to be found and his staff was half the size as the rest, held lazily in his hand and only made of wood.

 

 

Illidan stood still with the rest of the students as the much older sorcerers stepped from the makeshift stage, once more Latosius gestures to them, specifically the first, red robed Alpha “This is master Tel’yn, he will deliver you to your quarters.” Illidan follows silently, surprised at the luxury of the buildings insides, the arches above each room. The crowd grows thinner as they pass each room, Illidan finally left to take the furthest room. Tel’yn produces a key, letting it press into Illidan’s palm before releasing his hold upon it. 

 

 

“Omegas are not allowed in the grounds of Moon guard, and Alphas caught with one will be punished by immediate exile.” Tel’yn strictly informs him, as Illidan assumes he has with all the other Alpha students. Illidan regardless nods to his orders, knowing best the only one he would ever wish to sneak in was long out of his reach.

 

 

Illidan sighs into the empty room, looking over the humble desk and bookshelf, both empty but of good quality. The bed was a single, the mattress bare and clearly lumpy with feathers and straw. The first thing Illidan does is place the blanket with the honey and vanilla scent atop his bed, admiring the soft shade of pink, that only reminded him of her skin, truly making his heart ache. Partly because he knew the scent of her would be lost in a matter of days, possibly hours- and that it was merely a substitute for what he could have. 

 

 

Illidan sorts his room, a pain in his chest all the while.

Chapter 154: Illidan Omegaverse dabbles 4

Summary:

Illidan Stormrage/Asch Redfires

So I skipped ahead a little bit for the sake of not repeating the war of the ancients and bungling lore!

Enjoy!

Chapter Text

The smell was something close to watery bile, the damp mud walls accompanied by the scent of himself sent Illidan near mad from inhaling it, but ever composed he sat and quietly raged. Imprisoned for bringing about the salvation of his people, cast from their ranks as a disgusting ink mark that belonged no where near them. 

 

A betrayer. 

 

 

Illidan sheathes, making the scent around him worse, but uncaring of it now as he glares at the magic surrounding his cell. Magical barriers one of healing and another of stasis. The privilege of food lost to him, just as most of his clothes and blindfold has been. Shackles clamped around his limbs hatefully tight and rubbing his skin raw, though the feeling lasted only moments, thanks to the spells. As though they did not trust him to not harm himself, as if dying in a cage as a shackled beast was fitting of a saviour. No Illidan would remain, and remain long until their sight was unclouded and he was hailed as the hero he knew that he was. 

 

 

Illidan studied the faces of his guard Califax, a stoney irritant keeper of the grove, one  that stunk of wildflowers and aggravating calmness that all beta share. Most time he would lay on his four legs, arms crossed and looking at the opposite wall, bereft of emotion or conversation, perhaps considering his duty a punishment all the same as Illidan. 

 

 

His other keeper was was far more noisy, her raspy voice a grindstone against his ear, Maiev Shadowsong, a women without kindness, an Alpha, and she was prideful of such a thing, many a time she would goad Illidan with her mocking words of his biology, calming he had no instincts but those meant to guide his cock, despite herself having the same. Illidan had no mind for games and merely ignored her harping, pleasantly enough, simply just that bothered her enough into marching away, leaving him to silence once more. 

 

Though most times she made it a personal goal to have him stripped of nothing, allowing him nothing. Illidan was not shamed by it, in fact the heat of the prison sometimes was too much and leaving him bear was a kindness even she didn’t realize she was providing. Illidan had pretended not to be shaken or upset by her mistreatment of his things, the little that he kept with him. Maiev would soon burn it if she knew exactly what each thing meant to him. 

 

 

The blindfold was hastily given to him by lady Vashj, her giving of it wasn’t one of a kind gesture, she had squawked that seeing his burnt and melted flesh was too horribly stomach without something to cover them, so she had torn fabric from her sash and promptly shoved it into his hands. His glavies too were resting by, mocking him as they were just out of reach and wasting away against the wall. 

 

The last and, truly only precious thing he had owned was given to him by Asch, the years had not been kind to it, but what remainders was a long and thin enough cloth that Illidan used as a belt. The blanket that had been left to him all those years ago lay among his items, ratted and threadbare, fraying at each end and woren where he tied it away. It had lost her scent ages passed, but he could not allow her memory to be thrown away. 

 

 

Still he found himself longing for the reminder of her, it had been years, but he knew every line of her face. 

 

 

Illidan was not without company for long, Malfurion had come days after the events, though they were bonded by blood and family, Illidan felt his heckles rise as he saw the bobbing torch and the face of his brother behind it, a foul frown illuminated in orange. Malfurion took up the seat, so often used by Maiev, and stares at his twin, if they could be called that anymore. His brother had grown horns, wild about his head and face ever so disapproving and he attempted to find words, and failing. 

 

 

So Illidan begins, mocking as ever “How fares my well?” The question caused his brother to shift, his scent aggravated, but face not showing anything but mere disappointment. “It has caused no trouble...” he trails off, beginning anew “There is no safe way to destroy it.” The last is bitten angrily, before he is composed once more “It fares. For now.” Illidan allows himself a cocky grin, despite it all. Malfurion shifts uncomfortably, “Why have they left you bare?” Illidan felt no need to hide himself, but his brother looked anywhere but his lower half. 

 

Illidan snorts, “Ever so kind of them, is it not?” At his hiss Malfurion worries his lip, reaching with his other hand to quickly toss his clothing to him. Illidan hastily grabs them, first he secures his leggings, then meticulously rights the blanket onto his hips, before finally tightening the blindfold to his head, sighing a small relief as everything dulls. 

 

 

Of course, as he touches the fabric, Illidan dares to ask “Have you seen anything of her?” Asch. The name too painful to say aloud now, only his mind could handle when his tongue could not. Malfurion’s face twists, but it is one of debate, rather sadness. Illidan holds his breath as his brother begins “She yet lives, safe, despite all that has happened.” There was a question he could not stomach to ask, but Malfurion supplies him the answer, “She is with our people, Tyrande keeps her close at hand... she has taken no one in your place...” Illidan feels his heart beat anew in his chest. 

 

“Does she know of my fate? Will she see me?” Illidan is not too eager in his questions, but pressed nonetheless. Malfurion nods, but only once, “She does. And whether I will allow her too is another matter.” The air grows sour at his words, and Malfurion tenses, shoulders square as Illidan challenges him greatly with his scent. 

 

“Allow her?” Illidan snarls lowly, furious, Malfurion rebuffs him, simply nodding, “This is no place for her, and you are no good for her.” Illidan rages openly, getting as close as his bonds will allow of him, face scrunched and teeth bear “Her place has always been with me!” Malfurion is still cool to his challenge, but bites his words with the same rage, “This is no life, Illidan! You will provide only misery to her!” 

 

 

Illidan snarls, “Who put me here?!” Now his brother stands, face close to his, “Your actions, Illidan! You alone have doomed yourself- and you see it fit to drag her along your path!” Illidan does not back down, both stare in fury at one another, until it is Malfurion who sighs heavily and casts his eyes away, only than does Illidan feel sorrow and says, “Let me see her.” The raw emotion draws his twins eyes again, his judgement clear in the colourless beams of light as he examines Illidan. 

 

“I will do this thing, if only because we were once brothers.” 

 

 

Fate was merciless, even giving the slightest, it takes more. Illidan snarls lowly as Maiev stands close by his cage, both awaiting Asch and his twins arrival, her visage every mocking behind her helmet, though she hasn’t spoken yet. 

 

First Malfurion came down the tunnel, and as if to be cruel his entire frame masked hers completely, Illidan could barely see the trail of her gown puffing from either side of his brothers bulk. “My lady,” Malfurion sidesteps, gesturing toward Asch. Illidan felt his stomach drop staring at the vision before him. Asch wore a long fitted silk gown, the trails of her sleeves nearly brushing the ground, the ivory accented colour along the trim of her dress shines in the torch light held by Malfurion. In her long white hair were tiny wild flowers, crowned around her head like a halo. 

 

Illidan swallows, “Asch.” He practically wheezes as he spoke, his chest without air. Asch picks up her dress, the bottom newly ruined by the loose dirt. “Back Betrayer!” Illidan feels his chains pulled taught, forcing him to stumble from the bars of his cell. “Maiev!” Malfurion barks, chest puffed in aggression, “He is not privileged this!” Maiev snaps, pulling the winch taught, ramming his back into the hard packed dirt wall. 

 

 

“Warden Shadowsong- p-please-“ Asch’s voice was broken, pleading to his jailor and Illidan hated the sound of her begging for anything, especially to an Alpha so vile as her. Illidan can hear the sneer even behind her helmet, her face upturning as she speaks “The Betrayer’s whore whines so well-“ “Maiev enough!” Malfurion hisses “Let him free.” They share a heated look, but Maiev wretches the chains from her hands, a hiss ripping from her chest. 

 

 

Illidan rushes to the bars, Asch following, perfect, unmarked hands pressing against the steel bars. “What- what has happened to you?!” She gasps, the soft underside of her hand touching his cheek, “Y-Your eyes...” her voice was watery, “There is no pain.” He promises, wrapping his hand atop hers. “There is,” she mutters sadly, “I have missed you and to finally see you- it is here...” Illidan cradles her hand, pulling it from his face to the middle of his chest. Illidan’s vision falls toward her shoulders, the dip of her neck, “You still have my mark.” Asch nods, threading her fingers tightening with his, “Yes...” 

 

 

Illidan inhales heavily, able to scent the heavy honey and vanilla reaching into his cage, “And does your father appreciate your being here?” Asch’s face grows reserved and sad, “He was... lost in the war.” Illidan straightens, though he did not like the man it was her father and Asch had no mother, leaving her alone in this world. “I am so sorry Asch.” She shakes her head, “Thank you...” Illidan lifts her chin, gazing into her eyes, Asch arches into his hand, gripping the bars tightly as they inch closer. 

 

 

Finally, Illidan felt his lips press against hers, his cheeks pressed into the cold rolled bars and he couldn’t push any further, but tried desperately, his hands coming to rest on her sides, cradling her in his hands. Their gentle embrace was shattered as Maiev yanked Asch from him, a snarl ripping from his throat as he was helpless to stop it. Asch smelt wonderful, the fresh arousal heady in the air. Asch curled in herself, an embarrassed flush coating her face. “You foul cunt-“ Illidan bites dangerously, “Take your hand from her!” Maiev’s armoured claw toghtend around her arm, making Asch squirm in pain and whimper softly. 

 

“Maiev that’s enough.” Asch is jostled as the Alpha wretches her hand from her arm, the claw catching and tearing the beautiful fabric. Maiev scoffs angrily “I will not be forced to stand and witness his whore grow wet and whine for his knot-“ “I have said enough!” Malfurion whirls to face her, again she simply sneers, “It was you who saw fit that this be his punishment over death- and now you are lax because you are soft for this Omega.” She glances betwen the two, “Guided by your knots-“ Malfurion throws the torch from his hand, letting it soil the ground with soot and flame, bathing all of them in low deep light. 

 

“You will come with me, now.” Malfurion says quietly, “And we will discuss this behaviour presently.” Malfurion adjusts himself as Maiev stomps away, an angry sigh escaping her as she vanished up the tunnel. “I will return for you in a moment...” his face is tight as his eyes scan Asch’s face, than a small glance to Illidan before swiftly turning and marching up the tunnel. 

 

 

“Vile fucking woman,” Illidan mutters, watching Asch compose herself, shaking her head “It does not bother me.” Illidan reaches passed the bars, allowing her to take his hands, elegant as ever. Asch pulls her dress high up her knees, beginning to sit, taking Illidan with her. “Malfurion says that I may visit you as often as you please.” Illidan feels the pangs appreciation for his brother, smiling he says “Each day than would please me.” Asch giggles excitedly, nodding as she leans into the bars, Illidan glares at them, squeezing her hand “They will not have that.” She says, gently and sadly. 

 

 

“If not for these bars I would have you.” At his whispers Asch jumps, colouring exceptionally dark, “I-Illidan-“ She sputters, embarrassed all over again. Illidan grins softly, allowing the musk of his scent to reach her nose, her eyes flutter softly, “When next is your heat?” Asch shifts on her knees, adjusting her position to sit closer to him “Soon, a few days at most.” Illidan nods, able to smell it faintly wafting from her skin. It was causing him difficulty, but nothing Illidan couldn’t nurse with time. 

 

Shaking his head Illidan tiredly smiles, “Tell all that has happened to you?” Asch hums, a bright smile upon her face “Recently I have taken to the teachings of Elune!” Illidan purrs with pride, “What have you learnt?” Asch father’s her hands form his and, despite being inexpert, she conjures a small glowing yellow ball of light, which still impressed him, “Where did your father take you, all those years ago?” Asch touches him with the light magic and it feels warm in his skin and heats his arm with a tingling sensation, “We spent some time in the outskirts of Suramar, then after the war began he moved us once more, closer to Val’sarah... I was away gathering flowers when I found our home desecrated... and my- my-“ Illidan cups her cheek, hushing her gently, “I knew it not wise to stay and left and found Tyrande and Malfurion... they had told me everything...” everything that had lead up to this moment, Illidan closes his eyes.

 

“The well is beautiful,” she whispers, smiling “B-But you... I care too much for you... and you cause great trouble for yourself...” Illidan snorts at her scolding, “Such a gentle way of telling your disapproval,” though he did not mean to, Illidan had snapped at her. Asch frowns, saddened, but he could seldom handle her too scolding him, the only person whose damage could he never repair. “F-Forgive me- that is- please Illidan I did-“ “What meaning then did you have by your words?” Illidan recoiled venomously, his teeth bared at the most undeserving recipient, but his mind was too clogged to be anything but enraged at her. “I- I thought you were lost-“ she begins to shake as she speaks, reaching for him though Illidan did not allow her purchase “Malfurion h-had said you craved power- that- that you had s-succumb t-to addiction-“ her tears jerk his heart strings, his hesitance building as he realizes his actions “I-I will n-never d-disapprove o-of you- o-only f-fear that I-I w-will lose y-you.” Illidan shoved himself to the bars, feeling wretched and foolish- angry that he had made her cry “What I do- I do for Azeroth- for you, Asch,” he chokes, pulling her into his embrace as best the bars able them, “I will never be lost to you,” He mutters, pulling her wet lips into a kiss, tasting her tears. 

 

 

Once more they are interrupted, but it is a soft, timid throat clear, Asch’s face turns from him, looking back to Malfurion, who pauses his approach near the mud carved steps, “Maiev has agreed to allow you a single visit each day, the beginning your decision, but the end hers.” Illidan dares to speak, “Through bars, how kind.” Malfurion frowns deeply, anger growing in his face “You have been given a great privilege, Illidan. It was your action that brought you here.” Malfurion extended his hand, a snarl lowly trilling from his breast, causing Asch to cower betwen the two tense Alpha’s, face flushed, small whimpers escaping her throat.

 

 

“And what will you have of me when I must tend to my Omega?” At his tone and words Asch’s head spins, eyes large and breathtaking. Malfurion snarls openly, nose scrunched as he snarls, tugging Asch from the dirt. “I will have you here as she attends herself- by herself in a safe location. You lack knowing this is no gift, that you do not demand anything. You will lose what I have provided you at my whim, Illidan.” Watching Asch being taken from him causes a deep anger to well inside, the same anger he felt when her father took her from his reach. 

 

 

Just as Illidan began to enjoy waking up it had diminished when Asch had not visited, though she has told him why and Illidan knew she could not come to him until her heat finished, it did not stop him from growing irritable, miserable and overly unpleasant as Maiev simply put it, though the warden had not made it easier on either of them. In fact her little jabs caused him to lash dangerously, so much in fact that by the third day she had stopped coming to his prison altogether. The altercation wasn’t anything special in Illidan’s mind, but her poking at his intimate life caused him to say cruel things, one being how desperate she truly was to be in Asch’s place, on her knees and panting for anyone to look her way. Illidan had seen her grow ridged, he knew instantly that he struck a nerve by the way the noise escaped her, no matter her pride as an Alpha, it told him everything he needed when she yanked the chains and forced him to the back of the prison. 

 

He was not upset with this outcome, best she know not to bother him, if she dared do it again he would aim his jabs at her weak underbelly. After seven lonely days Asch finally returns to him, looking exhausted but so happy to see him. Illidan quickly inspected her and found himself frowning. 

 

“Have you eaten?” Illidan caresses her face, seeing the dark rings underneath her pretty eyes, “You are thinner than the last I’ve seen you.” It was cause for concern, a duty he should have fulfilled, in absence it fell to her, and Asch’s robes were much looser around her shoulders and hips. “I- I tired y-yes.” She mutters, looking from his face, “Sit- what do you have there?” Illidan knows his scolding will only upset her, he will not pry at her until he sees greater reason, she will eat in the coming days and Illidan will observe the progress. 

 

Asch smiles as they sit, pulling her basket next to her, pulling free a heavy looking blanket “Malfurion said I could bring you this,” She says as she passes it to him through the bars, Illidan palms it gently, suddenly overcome with her scent, it clung to the blanket and made him dizzy with arousal and affection. “I used it this week... to... k-keep warm.” Illidan brings it to his nose and fills his lungs with it, the heady smell of honey and vanilla caused his stomach to twist and cock stir. “I-I was hoping... t-that a-after it loses... um- loses my s-scent you- you could...” Illidan hugs it to his chest, purring madly as he listens to her, “How thoughtful- if only it could be my flesh pressed onto yours instead.” Asch jumps and glances behind her, but Califax is hardly interested, in fact if not for his chest raising and falling with breath he could almost be a statue. 

 

“Of course, thank you for this gift.” He says, knowing she was growing timid. Illidan did wish he did not have to substitute her for a blanket, but it was the only thing they could do for now, and the thought of her blanketed in his scent after he was finished marking it made him stir happily and rumble pleasantly as they sit together upon the dirt floor. 

 

Chapter 155: Illidan Omegaverse dabbles 5

Summary:

Illidan Stormrage/Asch Redfires

This one took a bit longer, and I will admit the next will take me also a little time to finish, but don’t worry!

So enjoy and thank you SO much for all the wonderful comments they brighten my day so much, thank you for being so kind to me!

Chapter Text

Illidan steadily grew into a snarling beast that Maiev adored to irritate, his balm was taken each day sooner and sooner then was fair to either, but Malfurion did not visit and Illidan would not whine of the cruel warden. Asch became disappointed more and more, Illidan hated the look upon her face when the vile warden crept her way down and told her their time was finished. Illidan had been forced to watch her cry even on the day that she had come to him and only moments after sitting down they had been told to part. 

 

 

While Maiev grew insufferable, Illidan grew angry. Most were uncomfortable with it, sometimes even Califax would squirm and Illidan knew it was the most ever he had moved. Today was no different from the last, though Asch was soaking wet as she came to his cage, a smile on her face despite the water dripping from her hair, Illidan could not help the snort that escaped him as he looked at her, “What is this now?” He says, a pleasant rumbling escaping his chest. Asch wipes her wet hair from her cheeks and allows it to fall back from her face with a quick shake of her hands, “It’s raining terribly outside!” She squeaks, than adds “Our home is a little far from here!” Illidan blinks, recoiling in surprise, and cannot help but ask, “Our home?!” 

 

Asch looks worried now, a hesitance as she speaks “Y-Yes...? D-Does that... not... please y-you?” Illidan regards her, his face still in shock, the concept was so strange to him, “I had... just thought that day would never come to pass...” he mutters, still puzzled, Illidan had always thought of Asch, but never where their future would lie. The tender feeling inside of him only increased as he begun to think of their life, in a small cottage, peace he had never known came to him and Illidan purrs openly at the idea, in turn now surprising her. 

 

There was stomping that had ruined their moment together, Maiev had once more found herself in the maw of his cage, her armour wet and all of them could tell she was sheathing in anger, what shocked them both however was her disinterest in the two lovers, rather she jerked to look toward Califax, “There is a fire-! Come with me!” Califax did not hesitate and stood upon his four legs, then Maiev turns her head, looking toward Asch with what Illidan could tell was irritation. 

 

“It is not safe for you to leave, I will escort you when the fire is dealt with.” Without letting either respond Maiev swings herself around, her cloak swiping into Califax’s legs. Illidan watched with a confused look until the happy squeal escapes the Omega before him, and without a moment in between, her arms attach to him as best allowed by the bars. Illidan lets a breathless laugh free and weaves his arms through the bars, basking in her affection and little kisses. 

 

Heat stirred between them as Illidan deepens the innocent kiss, pushing his tongue into her mouth. Asch’s knees dig into the dirt below her, the sandy floor ruined her dress, but she didn’t seem to notice this as his hands dipped to rest on her lower back, cradling her frame, compared so tiny but lovely. 

 

There was a crack, a bang- thunder had hit the very core of the burrow and shook the space, Asch parted in shock, looking at the dirt shaking loose. “Thunder unnerves you does it?” Illidan muses, rubbing circles into her back to calm her fright, “It always has...” she murmurs, eyes lost to the ceiling, “They say it will rain for days,” she huffs, then perks, “Malfurion has gone to sleep in the dens- it is unclear when he will awaken again.” Illidan ponders this, supposing it should have happened sooner, “And what if Tyrande?” Asch’s face twists in sorrow “Upset, she did not want him to leave her... they have been together for some time now.” Illidan nods, having known this of course, the pain Tyrande should be feeling, Illidan also knew it quite well, “It’s selfish...” she begins, drawing his thoughts to her, “But I am so glad you are not a Druid... for you would have left me too.” Illidan brings his hand toward her cheek, caressing it gently, “It does not equal mine yet,” he chuckles, “I selfishly have kept you as mine for all these years.” They share a grin and Illidan pulls their faces close once more “When I leave this place you will have to show me our home.” Illidan says, imagining it’s humbleness already. 

 

 

He imagines it will be much like his old home, a simple craved open tree with two floors and three beds, his parents room was large and Illidan found as a child that their bed was most comfortable. Often times both twins would sneak into their bed and their mother would support it by pulling them into her embrace. A thought came to Illidan suddenly as he is reminded of his childhood- would they have children? Illidan would like too, as little as two and as many as she liked. 

 

“It’s often lonely,” Asch pouts, tracing the runes along his shoulder, the gentle wisp of her finger tickled his skin and felt so tender “Our bed is too big for just me.” Illidan feels warm at the use of our, happy that she already considered it to be theirs, Illidan purrs softly, his temples dig into the metal bars in attempt to pull himself closer “I will fill our bed and keep you warm.” Asch colours prettily, the scent of excitement invading the space “Careful, Omega.” Illidan whispers hotly, caressing her back “I’d rather not defile you in the dirt.” Asch, to his delight fidgets, kissing him timidly “N-Nothing y-you do w-would d-defile m-me.” Illidan tilts his head, brow drawn, a questioning hum escaping him as he watches her skin turn blotchy pink.

 

“I dare say the power you hold over me is terrifying,” Illidan strokes his thumb across her cheek, thinking, many had tried to sway him in the past, Azshara, a devious Omega that held the goals of an Alpha and the mind of a Beta. The legion, romancing him into their bidding, attempting to bend his will. 

 

But as he sat there, staring at Asch, who by her own nature could command no one of evil, knew then that if she had asked he would commit the most grevious of crimes just to please her. 

 

 

Asch’s ears twitch and her eyes are drawn away from his as the sound of feet and armour disturb their quiet, Maiev and Califax hurtled down the steps, the warden slipping on the last and cursing “You’ve had ample time, now come.” Illidan squeezes her hand, allowing her to go without a fuss, Maiev lets her up the steps first, cape drenched and armour wet, “See her return safely.” He says, watching the warden jerk, then turn, “Isn’t that your duty?” Illidan bares his teeth and is forced to listen to her laugh cruelly. 

 

 

The very next day Illidan is forced to see Maiev once more, glaring at her as she seems far too pleased with herself. The warden was quiet for the moment, then lets a happy, strange giddy laugh escape her lips “Your brother is asleep.” Illidan rises to her voice, walking to the bars, chains dragging along noisily “And Tyrande has left to lead an offensive against the threats in Ashenvale.” Illidan crosses his arms, the enchanted steel biting into his naked chest, Maiev places her hands atop her hips, flaunting her status, “What of it?” He finally asks, not seeing what her point was. 

 

“You will never see your little whore again.” Suddenly she is biting like a rabid wolf, but the joy is still present in her voice. Illidan recoils, a hateful noise escaping him. Maiev jeers, utterly delighted with herself, “Does that upset you, Betrayer? That you cannot see her any longer?” She spits, cooing like a raven, “Do not worry for her, plenty of Alphas sniff at her heels, she’ll be wetting their knots, bitten and bedridden soon.” Illidan lunges at the bars, not intending violence, but spitting the same poison as she had “You are pathetic, you mewling little cunt- you are jealous and it is plain to see too all those who look upon you!” Maiev curls her fist, but Illidan can see that she is struck and cannot spare a word, “You baseborn Alpha- not good enough to catch the attention of one so high as Asch so you insult her because you can neither be her or have her!” Illidan feels the chains straining against his protesting jerks, desperate to keep him in place. 

 

 

Illidan snarls darkly, lip curling from his teeth “Weak willed little whore- do as you best and spread yourself for an Alpha as I know you whine for, pretend all you like Maiev but at least Asch is not begging for attention as you are!” Maiev finally snaps, baring in challenge as she screams at him “I will see you rot and die here, Betrayer!” Illidan smiles darkly, satisfied beyond words as he heard the shake in her voice “I will not leave this world until you have turned to dust, Warden.” With his last remark Maiev is furious, yanking his chains until the hard packed dirt met his back, still Illidan is triumphant. 

 

 

His glory only lasts until Maiev scurries away, then his anger and loneliness begin to pressure his mind, he knew that his warden would make certain Asch could no longer visit and without Malfurion to rein his jailers behaviour, it was truly all settled. Illidan closes his eyes, he would see her again, he would never lose hope. 

 

 

Asch stares at the empty sky, sitting in her small garden, holding herbs in her hands, the days have grown lonely, long, and Asch cannot help but gather herself to disappointment each day as she tries to see Illidan. Asch is turned away each time, the two guards having none of it, but gentle and sad when they speak the words, knowing her scent is sad and desperate, she watches them squirm in their armour and knows it to be true, most people avoid her now, having known the whole truth of the Betrayer’s lover. 

 

Tyrande is far to busy, so Asch does not write her of the troubles, she knows that Tyrande will come and scream at Maiev, but after she leaves it will be as it was, for only a time, then the warden will become crueller, and Asch did not want Illidan to suffer more than he has, for it would break her heart. So instead Asch fills Tyrande with white lies of her day, leaving Illidan out as much as she can, and Tyrande is none the wiser to the abuse. Still, Asch is happy- tries to be happy, filling her day with small tasks or busy work. The temples teachings have occupied most of her time, though she misses telling Illidan of her progress and his excitement for her. 

 

 

She too misses Malfurion, his kind heart and soft touches, always a boon of sweet words and smiles. Malfurion would speak so lovingly of Tyrande and become so protective of Asch when Alphas were prowling around her, they would speak of Illidan sometimes, though Malfurion was angry, he always had a note in his voice that told Asch nothing could break the bond they shared and Illidan too could not escape it, no matter how hard he tried. 

 

 

Asch gathers a basket of apples, picked fresh from the trees in her yard, wondering not for the first time if Illidan would like the life she had made here for them. Asch knew of the stories of the war, how Illidan had thrust himself into dangers unknown, that he believe nothing could bring him harm, what most scared her was maybe he was right, but the thought of him doing dangerous things made her stomach tie into knots.

 

Asch places the herbs in her basket and sways a she walks, taking her usual path toward the burrows. Two wardens stand there as always and they turn their helmets toward her, Asch knows she will not be allowed to visit Illidan, but she tries anyway. “We have told you already that you are no longer allowed entrance,” the one on the left says, though she seems to struggle as Asch grows closer. The two were Alphas and never the same two, but to Asch they were always the same, no matter who was under the armour, same cruelty and harsh words. “I know, please take this to him.” Asch had to ask no matter how many times they said no, she would no lose hope that one day she may see Illidan again, and she would be there everyday no matter the outcome.

 

The two guards look at her and one sighs, “That is not permitted either, you know this and we are growing tired of telling you.” Asch grows saddened by her words and they both notice and tense up, obvious to the smell of her distress, the other seems unable to take it any longer and hastily takes the basket from her, making a noise of discomfort, “Don’t be upset-“ she cannot help but coo, trying to sooth the upset Omega “I will see if he may have it- but nothing more.” Asch musters a small smile, greatful as she watches the guard leave quickly down the tunnel. 

 

 

The second looks at her and sighs heavily, “Tomorrow then, now be off.” And Asch nods, feeling a little lighter.

 

Chapter 156: Illidan Omegaverse dabbles 6

Summary:

Illidan Stormrage/Asch Redfires

Yooo I said it may take a while, so here it is! I hope I got everything correct!

Also I know this is Omegaverse, but I decided not to use the whole “pups” thing that goes with it, so instead I still say children, but as you know Omegaverse can range wildly depending on the writer, so I hope it’s still pleasant to read! You’ve all be so kind so let me know if you like it or if I missed something key about the Omegaverse AU!

Chapter Text

Illidan cannot do anything but watch as Tyrande cuts down Califax in a manner most unbecoming, the furiousness of her swing and the snark upon her face is nothing he had ever seen before. Although it had been ten thousand years since he had seen anything slightly out of order, and as he knows best people can change in a single day. 

 

When Tyrande finishes she whips the blade to spatter blood along the dirt, and directs her attention to Illidan, suddenly a softer and more reserved look comes to her. “I have come to free you.” She says first, then, “The legion has returned and we have use of your skill.” Of course Illidan was slightly disappointed in her words, he could not blame her for not wishing to see him, but to only wish for his use in this fight made him consider what would be done after they found no use for him any longer.

 

Would they return him and suffer Maiev’s wrath? Be committed criminals of their own because they killed Califax? Who certainly did not deserve his fate and Illidan found no hatred toward the four legged, silent jailer. 

 

 

Illidan had not grown dull in his long absence from fighting and his mind is ever sharp, “Where is Asch?” He says, and knowing that he is needed, Illidan will take what he has needed before allowing them to seal him away once more. Tyrande’s face twists, “She is safe, I have taken her away from here.” Illidan crosses his arms, moving as he watches her now break open his cage and unfurl the chains that Maiev adored to yank upon. “I wish to see her.” He is unmoving in his decision, and Tyrande waves him off, “After the fighting is finished.” He shakes his head, “No. I will see her now.” 

 

 

Illidan would not give his service so easily, Tyrande has stopped her doings, seemingly now regretting her actions as he grows difficult. Tyrande once was a great beauty in his eyes, and like his brother, would have done anything she had asked simply because she had asked it, now he has grown astranged from his affection for her. Now his heart lies wherever Tyrande has hidden her. “We do not have time for this!” She barks at him, tugging lightly on the chains, Illidan is not impressed and looks widely at his cage, remarking with snark, “I have all the time in the world.” They size each other, both becoming more aggravated as the seconds pass, then Tyrande glares away from his face, “Speak than damn you!” 

 

 

Illidan licks his lips, having one simple wish, “A single night with her, then I will fight this war for you.” Tyrande considers him, than a pinch grows in her brow, “And if you fall? What then shall she do? I know what you intend and it is not wise.” Illidan grows angry, “I have survived worse, woman.” He snaps, baring his teeth “I have waited ten thousand years- you have never suffered as I have.” Tyrande sighs heavily, “I have not, but she will suffer worse if you do not return.” Illidan steps once forward, he eyes set to purpose “I will always return to her.” With little else but a unspoken promise, they leave. 

 

 

Illidan walks without looking at those he passes, the camps were sorted in lines, tents erected carefully along the grass and Illidan, through his curiousness, asks, “You have her here? In the war camps?” Tyrande simply hums, “She is not fighting, but she has become an esteemed priestess. She is healing the wounded-“ her face turns, a small and nearly loving smile “Far from battle.” They walk long into the camp, far passed the proper battle ready tents. Tyrande leads him to a pale lavender tent, it’s flaps open and inside are few wounded soldiers, and Illidan pauses, his heart pounds. 

 

Among them, sitting beside a small table, is Asch. Her hair had grown long in his absence, her skill even more so, Illidan is enraptured by how her hands glow softly along the arm of a bare man, his skin marred with wounds, but as he watched, they begun to close shut. “Go on,” Tyrande says with a hint of a laugh, something that reminded him of home and a time long passed. Still, Illidan finds his feet and walks without company to her, eyes unable to blink as he nears. 

 

 

Asch is too occupied with her work to see him duck under the tent, her hands tie dressings and pats his shoulder. “Thank you my lady,” the soldier says, pushing himself up and away. Asch follows his line, and then finally sees Illidan, her face and scent so elegant and surprised. “I-Illidan you’re- you're here-!” Asch rushes up, skirts in a flurry Illidan is careful to the wounded, but Asch is nimble and finally after an age she is in his arms, the warmth and smell of her overpowering him. “H-How are y-you here?!” She gasps, hands cupping his face. Illidan wraps her in his embrace, purring loudly “I am to fight in this war, but for now I shall care for you.” He presses his forehead gently to her, feeling the tip of her nose connect with his own, “Are you needed longer?” Asch cannot seem to focus on a single part of his face, her eyes flying across everything of Illidan she can see, as if she was being tricked somehow. Illidan tightens his hold to assure her. 

 

“N-No I... I have finished-“ she says, “Then show me to your tent.” 

 

Illidan had little else on his mind but her scent and softness of her skin as she scurried along the tent line, the image of a doe caught his mind, but he was hardly looked a stag, but nearly as impressive as he chased her footsteps, watching the tents thin and then when only one remains he stands close at hand, allowing her no escape beyond his arms and only through the tent opening. It was a standing tent, one with four wooden poles speared into the earth, aside a bed there was only a table to be had, but Illidan had thought it would not be so elegant as it was already, for he had expected it to be propped hastily and too small for both of them, so this was a welcome surprise. It had allowed him to know that Tyrande had been truthful about Asch staying away from the fighting, if not she would have had a tent much like the other soldiers if she was to move. Tyrande had said this would be their  ground to stand upon and they would not move for anything and he had admired that, a little foolish to believe, but admired all the same. 

 

And then in a fashion so unlike herself, so bold, so forward, Asch catches him by surprise and pulls him into a heated embrace, kissing him with the most need he had ever had the pleasure to feel of her. Illidan does not object to this in the slightest, and a purr so satisfied rips from his chest and he pulls her as close as their bodies allow. “I- missed you- so- much-“ she cries desperately, kissing him as she speaks. Illidan paws at her unabashed, no bars or intruders to now speak of. Asch’s robes are soft and he dares not to wreck them, instead his fingers rifle up her dress. Asch opens her mouth to his seeking tongue and is denied nothing as he consumes her, his wildest, hidden needs racing through his minds eye. 

 

Illidan shuffled them back while keeping their kiss heated, until Asch can no longer move and Illidan wastes no time pushing her to sit on her small bed. Illidan kneels, finally allowing Asch to catch her breath, her legs bare and supple to his eyes. His hands marred her as he touched them, his rough hands could only ruin her skin with impurity. Asch makes a small noise when he pulls her to the edge of the bed, her hands grip and pull at the sheets beside her as Illidan kisses the inside of her knee, moving inward as he goes. “You’re so good for your Alpha,” he praises softly, purring in delight once he reaches the junction of her thigh that connected to her pelvis. Batting her dress away he can finally see what has been kept from him for thousand of years. 

 

Asch was a tender pink colour, but her cunt was blush and rosy, pretty wet lips part as he gently pulls her legs wider, amazed and entrapped all at once. Illidan reaches his mouth closer, and the scent between her legs was something he would never be rid of, how wonderful and thick the honey and vanilla was. Asch inhales noisily as his head pressed between her thighs, and jumps when his tongue gently licks the whole of her. The rumbling from his chest and how overpowering his scent had became was relaxing her nerves, but still she could not shake the small scared feeling that she was not to his expectations. 

 

Illidan is not fast or rough with her, for he himself was not entirely sure what to do, the most he had ever known of this was what men had jeered of in the Moon Guard Stronghold, though they had said awful things, it had given him thought. By how slick she was becoming Illidan had no doubt he was doing something properly as he licked between her soft folds, allowing himself to dip his tongue into her untouched hole. Though as he did a thought came over him, it may have not been so untouched as he first thought, and that did not upset him, no in fact it delighted him. Images of her heat ridden flashed in his minds eye, bend and whining lovingly for him, crying his name desperately as her fingers tried to sate herself in the way only her Alpha could.

 

Illidan swallows, tasting the heaviness of her slick upon his tongue and kisses her there softly. Asch gasps, squirming in pleasure, seeking his mouth for more as he gives it, letting her buck and press herself into his tongue, writhing until Illidan heard the most gentle use of his name. Asch had paused, frozen in her position as she was overcome, wetness leaked from her and Illidan openly kisses her thigh once more, purring uncontrollably as he meets her eye. Asch’s face was stained red, her eyes swimming with lust as he had never seen. 

 

There was something so unspoken between them as Illidan rises from his kneeling position, it so tender and gentle and nice. “Illidan...” she says his name in passing, not wanting for his attention, but just saying it to allow him the knowledge that yes, she is here and she only knows of him. Illidan feels no shame from her gaze despite it being upon his face, for she had never looked at his scarred burnt eyes with anything but curious worry, but then she has always worried after him in ways he’s forgotten people do. 

 

Illidan pulls his belt free and his leggings loosen from his hips, sliding in a heap at his feet while they stare into each other, but now, he thinks that she is only staring at his face because she is too embarrassed to look anywhere else and it brings a smile to his lips as he moves. 

 

Illidan laments to himself that this was not where he had first pictured this to be, but than had he ever? Illidan had always just wanted Asch, just wanted to be wherever she was and it mattered little to him where they were so long as it was private. 

 

Illidan lifts the dress from her body drops it from his hands, first he leans into Asch’s space, a kiss to distract her as he repositions them down the length of the bed rather the way they were. And there is something freeing about this moment, though it could only be one of binding. 

 

 

Asch touches him, and his skin is so heated she worried that it wasn’t healthy or something was wrong, but than her mind lost the thought as Illidan’s neck comes ever closer to her face, she sniffles, intrigued and aroused all over again, the scent was so pure, so strong here. Asch was not sure what Illidan was doing, but in that moment all she can do is bite. A jerk is produced on his end, more of shock than anything, she thinks, her legs are squeezed and a simple, short and Alpha toned chide escapes him, “Omega.” But it has none of the real bite. Asch licks her lips, a little happy noise escaping her. From his mouth a gruff noise released, not unlike a stiff growl, but also nearly a purr, Asch leans up to where he had jerked away and kisses, an apology but hardly one needed. 

 

Asch had not noticed at first, but the scent of him had grown heavy and full, though she was not in heat, he had churned into a rut. Not often it happens, usually the first triggers the last, but it can still occur if the need is strong enough.

 

The smell of it would be unbearable to anyone else, to any Beta or Alpha, but to her, it was wonderful, warm and promising and protective. Asch wiggles in his hands and digs herself into the bed beneath her, a soft happy sigh rising from her chest. Suddenly Asch is flipped onto her belly, one hand under her and lifting her to her knees, Asch pants deeply as slick gushes from between her legs, the excitement of the Alpha wishing to mount her addles her brain- her Alpha. 

 

 

Illidan is busy trying to keep her still, but she cannot help herself from wriggling under him and the sound he produces rips through her in unexpected ways. “Be still,” He now does growl, and there is danger in his tone, a biting that only arouses her, and only makes her wish to misbehave further, of course for the thrill of what he might do. Asch stills however, when she feels his cock slide along her inner most thigh, letting her feel the length of him coherently, “Be still,” his voice is smug now as he says this, now jutting his cock along her slick lips, parting them to his invasion. Asch swallows, mouth dry as she finally feels the protrusion of his knot. Asch jumps against Illidan as his teeth nip her ear, a warm chuckle melts her to gelatin and in a more sensiable part of her mind she knows that it was to keep her still and calm, the part of her mind that was controlling her however was cooing and waiting to be used. 

 

The first touch of his cock was wonderful, the stiff head parting her petal lips, Asch liked the contrast of it as a whole, where she was soft and yielding, he was hard and pressing, a delightful parallel concerning their castes. “Ah...” she sighs softly, back arching to allow more of him to slip inside “You... you are so- little-“ Illidan cannot find the words as he rocks into her completely, their bodies bending to one another, desperate to diminish all space between them. Illidan holds her inner thighs, pressing her firmly against his hips. Asch shakes in ecstasy, hanging her head between her shoulders, looking to the slick and blood drenching her legs. Asch felt no pain however as her entrance was stretched passed what it could handle, but that was wrong now she realizes, for she had taken him just fine. 

 

Asch tentatively eases her arm from under her and with her fingers outstretch she first touches her outer lips, puffy and forced wide. Asch moves her fingers, touching where they were joined, Illidan rumbles deeply, a pleasant sound to her ears that makes her tingle. Illidan draws his hips away, pulling increments outside of her warm body, than pushing back, giving both of them pleasure. Illidan does this for a time, slowing pulling himself fully from her, then pushing back inside, her cunt takes him like a sword to a sheath, an Omega perfect for her Alpha. 

 

Illidan picks his speed up, hips rolling, the rhythm of it has both of them panting, writhing against each other, Asch whines each moment his knot hits her entrance and Asch grinds down against it, keening high each time he does not allow it to sink inside of her. Illidan growls, his thusts grow jagged and he compels her body to yield, Asch widens her legs, a wanton whimpering sound leaving her as he finally pushes into her, allowing the fist size knot to catch with a hoarse sound. Asch cries out her finish, limbs shaking as he streches the pleasure out with aborted thrusts, edging his knot further into the safety of her warm cunt. And just as Asch settles warmly into the pillows, does she feel the rush of his cum, spending inside of her as he licks her skin sated and calm as all Alpha’s become after the last fades of his rut escapes him. 

 

A purring growl invades her ear, and suddenly his teeth lock into her neck, biting sharply. There was only a single moment of pain before Asch felt something thread in her mind, webs connecting and intertwining. 

 

Illidan releases her neck and Asch already feels the wounds healing, but knows it had scarred like the last. “Gods,” he mutters while licking the blood from her skin, “I should like to have you full of me every night until your belly swells with my sons.” Asch shivers as she feels his cock gush more cum inside her, the thought appealing as they rest in the sheets and fur of her bed. His hands help her lay without pain, Asch presses her lips together, and sadness overtake her as she cutches his hands instead of letting them pet her skin “You will be away from me,” she mutters, shutting her eyes tightly to prevent tears, “Only for a time, the war will not linger,” Illidan promises, having no knowledge of whether it will or not, but has no choice but promise her this. 

 

 

Asch lays in his embrace, wondering, once more, if this war will take him. 

Chapter 157: Illidan dabbles 25

Summary:

Illidan Stormrage/Asch Stormrage

Sorry for the delay! Enjoy!

Chapter Text

Illidan lets the cloud of time magic overtake his senses, the world around him fading into another. 

 

 

Illidan inhales the scent of wildflowers. He looks at a man, a boy, who blinks in time with him, his hair short and tightly packed into a small ponytail, his eyes, blindly gold and shining like sunspots in the dirty mirror. There was laughing beyond his room, Illidan looks away and sees two people chasing each other outside, one in white with lush green hair, Tyrande. Malfurion was chasing her, making her giggle wildly and pick up speed. Illidan watches for a moment, smiling softly, until his gaze reaches another, Asch.

 

 

Her eyes were following them, but her smile was small and watery, something she was struggling to keep upon her face as she sat on a stump, watching their fun but not included. Illidan clasps his hand on the window, thrusting himself out of it, the grass felt wet and soft against his feet. Asch does not notice him and Illidan takes the advantage to run up and sneakily tap her shoulder. Asch’s hair flies as she spins her face toward him, eyes doe wide and surprised “Illidan- what-“ “come now,” he says richly, a smug smirk on his face as the two lovers pause their game “think you can catch me?” Asch’s eyes fill with joy, and determination and quickly Illidan darts away, watching over his shoulder as she picks her dress up and chases after him. 

 

 

Illidan makes it rather difficult for her to catch up, deliberately going into the brush jumping between trees “Illidan! Come back here!” She scream at him, a laugh following. Illidan knew these woods far better than she did however and begins to turn her around, watching from afar as she pauses, distress etched on her brow as she realizes she lost in the woods, “Illidan, where are you?” She yells for him, “this isn’t funny!” Illidan creeps up behind her, smirking as she frantically looks for him “please- Illidan you win-!” At her words he escapes his hiding place and wraps his arms around her middle, making her gasp “what’s my prize?” He whispers into her ear, getting a smack in the arm in response “don’t do that!” Her voice is still pleasant as always. Illidan spins her, but reluctantly puts her down, smiling smugly at her frustration. “You’re horrible! That wasn’t fair!” He laughs fully, amused and her pouting “my apologizes my lady, I didn’t think a little run would have you so ruffled.” Asch growls at him, hitting his shoulder again “I’m all muddy now! And you did it on purpose!” 

 

 

Illidan shrugs at her accusations, smiling as he steps closer, their chests brushing together faintly “and what can I do to make up for this thing?” His words make her skin flush, eyes darting away as the tone dropped to less friendly and more implicit “I- I don’t know!” Asch is squeaking now, something he found delightful. Continuing to play his part, Illidan hums, a devilish idea overcomes him as he kneels in front of her, hand pressed into his breast “I must atone for my behaviour, anything my lady wishes,” he cannot hide his wolffish grin “Illidan stop it!” It was half hearted at best and he was far from finished his little game.

 

 

“What shall I do to apologize?” He thinks aloud, Asch’s knees knock together at the sound of his voice and Illidan feels lust creep under his skin at the vision before him. Asch bites her lip, seeing his expression change, his half lidded gaze, the quirk in his mouth, his impressive jaw jutting out. Asch almost screamed as his hand wrapped around her ankle. “I-Illidan w-what are y-you d-doing!” The words stumble out of her mouth in shock as he lifts her leg up, “worshiping my lady,” he whispers hotly, gaze now sweeping over the newly exposed skin, inch my inch it’s exposed, how the shade of her skin grew lighter the closer it came to her thigh. “Illidan- that’s not- s-stop!” Asch felt his soft lips press delicately into the inside of her thigh, the shock that went through her as his eyes met hers, the utter possession they held, the animalistic need. 

 

Asch would have fallen if not for his firm hold “do you really want me too?” He says against her skin, licking it openly, lewdly for her to see and know his intentions. Asch feels a small noise trill from her throat and she shakes her head, this made him smirk and Asch jumped as his other hand scaled up the back of her leg, firmly cupping her behind as his fingers snakes under her panty line. Asch squirmed as he pulled them off of her, forcing her eyes to follow as they slide down her legs and finally, into his hand, he puts them in his pocket, and breathes deeply. 

 

“Ah-! Illidan!” His hand plays with her cheeks, squeezing it in his palm, Illidan chuckles warmly, “my lady does not like to be teased, I see.” Asch swallows thickly, embarrassed by his words, but Illidan continues “a shame. I suppose I won’t then.” Though his hand stays where it is, his mouth presses back into her legs, this time much closer to her cunt then she was ready for “Illidan I- I don’t k-know about- about t-this...” once more he withdraws, his face coloured in arousal and cloudy with lust “what is it?” He asks with genuine care, something he reserves specially for her and Asch cannot take what it does to her heart each time. 

 

“This- it’s not proper- I- I don’t k-know what t-this i-is...” Illidan smiles warmly at her, legging her go completely “what isn’t proper? Is it because of your father?” Lord Redfires did not approve of Illidan and he did not like them spending time together, alone or otherwise. Asch looks conflicted, shaking her head, but he knew it was true. “It’s alright.” He dismisses, not wishing to cause her trouble. “Let me take you home.”  Asch looks upset but says nothing, despite knowing she wanted too, and the rest of their journey was silent.

 

 

Once in front of her gates Illidan smiles tensely, a pain in his chest “goodnight Asch,” he says, deciding anything else would be cruel. “Goodnight Illidan.” 

 

 

Malfurion doesn’t ask what happened, nor does he make comments about it days after, despite not seeing Asch all the while. Tyrande must have been told because they do not bother him with anything as Illidan clearly sulks, miserable and angry with himself. He shouldn’t have pushed her, she was inexperienced and scared and despite their obvious feelings for one another, he should not have pressed her. Now if he ever saw her it likely wouldn’t be the same. For years they had teetered between gentle flirtation and friendship and Illidan had lost both prospects in less than an hour. 

 

Illidan left his bedroom and tiredly climbed down the steps “Illidan?” Malfurion calls to him, he was standing in the kitchen with Tyrande, who looked anxious and a bit excited “yes?” Illidan answers, “nana and ada will be away and Tyrande thought it would be nice to have a sleep over.” Illidan restrains the need to roll his eyes, they had done this before, and he was not interested in listening to them engage in affection all night. “She convinced Asch to come.” At this heart leap, which they must have saw and started to laugh at. 

 

“The girls can have upstairs and we’ll sleep down here.” Of course, that wouldn’t last long, at least for Tyrande. 

 

 

Asch shouldn’t have agreed to do this, but Tyrande had begged her and she couldn’t say no once the tears began to fall down her best friends face. It wasn’t a good idea she knew, Illidan would be there surly and it would be strange between them, they hadn’t spoken since that day in the forest and Asch felt confused, terrible even. Tyrande said they would have fun however and Asch knew that yes, one of them would be, while she would be stuck by herself as it always came to be. Asch wished she could have something like that, with Illidan, but her father did not like him and forbid her for allowing his pursuits, though before the incident in the forest there had been sparsely none. 

 

 

As she walked down the path the sun began to fade behind the forest, it was late and her father wasn’t happy she was leaving the house, but he allowed her only because she had lied. Asch promised she was spending the night in Tyrande’s home and far, far away from the Stormrage twins. He called them trouble, even though they were the prophesied to bring only good, he did not like them or the influence they had. 

 

 

Asch made her way up the steps and knocked barely twice before Tyrande swung the door open, a silly smile on her face “Asch! Come in! I’m so glad you’re here!” Asch watches her sway and sees a glass of wine in her hand, a nervous smile came to Asch’s face as she entered and saw Illidan next to his brother. Mal greeted her warmly, as drunk as Tyrande, but still coherent. Illidan didn’t move but smiled gently toward her and suddenly all the butterflies came back at once. 

 

At least her father was right, he was trouble. 

 

 

Asch refused to drink very much and Illidan didn’t take much either, in fact he still had the full glass he started the night with, Mal and Tyrande were progressively getting worse, but they were still pleasant as the all day and played dice. Though neither Asch or Illidan were really interested like they were. Asch was only happy with the distraction until it was gone, and the two lovers started thinking about bed. Asch to her credit tried to get them to stay, but the two waved her off and embraced as they went up the steps, disappearing soon after.

 

 

“You really don’t want to be alone with me, hm?” He says, and Asch could see how hurt he was by her absence, she was too. Asch looks at her feet, unsure of what to say “I suppose that’s it then,” he mutters, lifting himself off the sofa, Asch is unable to speak as he drudges over to a cupboard, pulling blankets from it along with a pillow “My rooms more comfortable,” he starts to say as he returns, “you can sleep there if you like, but they’re usually loud.” Asch blushes, watching him make up the sofa, all the while unsure of what to say. 

 

Shame and regret bubbles in her belly as Illidan quietly goes about fixing everything, she finally finds the courage to speak as he’s fixing the pillow “I’m sorry...” she musters, causing him to stop and stare “what are you sorry for?” He says, as if it was outrageous “don't apologize.” Asch hates how broken and upset he sounds, “it’s my fault, not yours. I... shouldn’t have done that.” Asch’s belt twists at the memory, the way his eyes were. 

 

They look so dull now.

 

Unable to take anymore of his sadness Asch inhaled deeply, courage nearly breaking as motifaction seeps into her as she says, “what... w-what was it?” His face twists in confusion and Asch inwardly shrieks “before- w-what was it.” The realization dawned on him as colour came to his cheeks, the same flash of interest behind his eyes. “I... was going to... pleasure you. With my... mouth.” Hearing him speak it aloud made her feel like all her insides dropped out of her, but curiosity won over shame and she  asked “how...?” Illidan seems struck, his mind racing before her as his mouth hung open, she stood, making her way to him with shakily legs and almost cracked courage. 

 

“W-will y-you s-show m-me?” His throat visibly bobbed in pain, “here...?” He mutters, eyes reaching the whole room, shifting uncomfortably “u-um.” Illidan’s eyes stop their path around the room and finally stop on her, he notices that she was curtling and snaps, deciding his course of action. “Come,” his hand extends, and waits for her to timidly take it and guide her upstairs. His room was large, the bed was spacious and Illidan lead her right into the middle of the room before standing with her. Illidan carefully lifts her chin, making her look at him. Illidan licks his lips, carefully pressing forward, letting their lips connect softly. 

 

His hands press into her hips, and Illidan begins to kneels in front of her, eyes watching for any sign of hesitation before running his hands back into the familiar places. Illidan blinks as he feels only the flesh of her backside “are... are you not wearing any...” he discovers before she answers with both his hands, touching her hips and bottom, she wasn’t wearing any panties. “Gods.” He chocks, arousal ebbing between his legs “may I...?” He asks now, watching her pretty face full of blush finally nod. 

 

Illidan hurries, but doesn’t scare her, his kisses were faster up her thighs and when he pushes his head under her dress she squeezes his head with her thighs and Illidan cannot take his eyes off her cunt. Pink petals  frame a rosy little bud and Illidan exhales sharply, mouth slightly up and breath ragged. Asch whimpers, nervous as he lifts her leg over his shoulder, “Illidan-“ she mutters, but before she can continue he quickly presses his tongue flatly against her petals. Asch jumps, a soft moan escaping her, Illidan licks until her lips part, the tip of his tongue slathers her clit, Asch squeaks, baring into his face, hands pressing into his head. Illidan sucks her clit, fingers carefully climbing toward her wet, taught hole. “Illidan- oh!” The single digit slides into her easily, completely filling her. Asch twists and squirms, swirling her hips down into his finger. Illidan grins sharply, sucking and licking quicker as he adds another finger, which seemed to delight her.

 

“Oh- Illidan... hah...” Illidan feels his fingers become drenched, the wetness rolling down his knuckles as she’s over come by her finish. Illidan removes his fingers, licking the wetness from his fingers as he lifts himself up. Asch pants, leaning into him “be with me.” He whispers, getting her attention “be my mate, I don’t care what your father says.” Asch’s eyes grow wide and Illidan cannot take his eyes off of her, desperately waiting for the response. “Oh... Illidan I- y-yes...” 

 

Illidan pulls her into his embrace and lifts her off the ground, forehead pressed against hers and he smiles joyously. “Stay with me. Tonight.” Asch nods eagerly against him, pulling her arms around his neck as he carried her over to his bed, climbing over her until there wasn’t any space between them. Illidan kisses her than, full and gentle. Asch’s lips were so very soft and moist, shiny as he parted from them, staring openingly at howrhey parted and begun colouring raw pink from his abuse. 

 

 

The moment is lost as their ears twitch at the sounds beside their room, vulgar, obsence noises escaping his brother and Tyrande while the bed knocked into the wall. Illidan frowns deeply, irritated but as his eyes trail back Asch is coloured in embarrassment, ears curling away and eyes averted. “I will not debase you.” He says every so gently, like a splash of cold water to their heated skin, and somehow the blush across her cheeks grows darker, but her eyes are not full of so much shame. And it was true, there was love between his brother and Tyrande, but he was shaming them both. They were too terribly open, more so any any other and Illidan found it repulsive, having to be subjected to the sound of it each day Tyrande snuck into his chambers through the barely large window. 

 

 

Illidan did not have a window and he certainly wouldn’t allow her to brazenly climb through one if he did. 

 

Despite them ruining this moment Illidan couldn’t not stomach the thought of stopping. Both were out of their element, and though Illidan knew little of what to do, he could still provide something. What he had learned from his brother had been placed in practice and it seemed Asch had liked it, but he could not rely on stolen tricks any longer. Illidan had studied Asch for years, she was very soft hearted, but brace when forced to be. She was only ever gentle, rounded and smooth without any hard lines or edges, not even her voice was shrill or demanding. 

 

Nothing about her enjoyed pain, roughness or brutality. Illidan was quite out of his element, but he could learn. They had all night to do so. The little time they had spent already taught him a great deal, it was the first he had ever placed his mouth upon any women and he was surprised he did not falter, in fact he greatly succeeded, but he had learned she grew nervous quickly when rushed, he would do well to be careful now, lest he suffer a broken heart once more.

 

 

Illidan looks at her, a broken heart not soon to be mended. 

 

Illidan continues to look at her and Asch meets his eyes, though her face continues to swealter and truly the air around them is on of uncomfort. Her hair is all about his pillow, like a fan of feathers, he’s never seen something quite like it, not in his mind or fantasies of this, there had been many of course, but he had never considered the delicate details of it. Now he could not help but savour them all, despite how warm and eager she was underneath him, all his muscles paused and Illidan continued to admire what he could see.  

 

 

Illidan trails his eyes to her throat, and in all the questions he had asked this night, he had not asked it was what she wanted. Of course he had gotten his way, Illidan had realized when it concerned the two of them, Illidan had always gotten his way, Asch rarely said no to his ideas or impulses. Illidan allows his eyes to close, the feeling of their bodies pressed together, it was one thing to defy her father, another herself. So, Illidan knowing he may lose his chance, opens his mouth to ask “Is this what you want?” It was a whisper at best, but sounded much louder compared to the gentle sounds of nothing, and of course beyond the wall where sound never seemed to end. 

 

 

Illidan feels her hands against his skin, touching ribs with nothing short of feather like caresses, it makes him shiver almost, still, Asch could not meet his eyes now and illdain thought the worst, before her hands pressed firmly “I- I don’t... don’t let t-hem hear...” Illidan’s heart conitinued to pound anew, his nod all top eager before he resigned himself to calm, “Never,” he mutters, and allows himself to move his hands toward her sides. A knit cake about her brow, and Illidan tired to smooth it away with gently strokes up her side, “T-Tyrande said... said it- it didn’t hurt-“ she begins, face overtaken with blush so think Illidan could barely see the original pale pink colour of her skin. “B-But my... my mother s-said it did-“ Illidan considers her worries, deciding how best to respond. The short of it he and Malfurion were told was that it did cause pain, but the pain came with blood for proof, but Illidan knew of some measures to make it bareable, but not if they worked. 

 

“It may,” he murmurs, not wishing to lie, as Asch squirmed in worry, Illidan continued “Only once- I will lessen it if I can.” Asch looked greatly nervous, but Illidan kisses the hallow of her throat, attempting to hike her skirts up with his wandering hands. Asch’s thighs knocked together and pressed so desperately tight that Illidan could see her legs shaking from the effort. At first he let her robes go and instead pulled his own from his head, flaunting only a little as she stared, though he couldn’t help the cocky grin as he settled onto his legs, looking down her. Asch bit her lip, glacing at the edge of the bed before her hands came up to brace at her sides, pulling herself up to sit next to him, unsure of what to do. 

 

Illidan tookthe opportunity to pull her into his lap, a small squeak of shock escaped her mouth before he leaned toward her and kissed her lips. Illidan deepens it, pushing his tongue into hers, opening her mouth to his advanced a shis hands ruck her dress up her belly, letting his own skin finally feel hers. Quickly, without warning he parts from her and Asch is too dazed to realize why yet, without ceremony Illidan throws her dress from her frame and returns to her mouth, letting the reality sink in as he pressed their bare flesh together. 

 

Illidan knew it might be a terrible idea, but it was best to allow to her understand herself than try to be slow about it, if he had she might crack under his gaze, and at least this was his eyes weren’t burning into her skin and causing embarrassment. Illidan was content to feel her breasts flatten against his chest, the hard nipples scraping across his skin with each subtle movement. Another moment of carelessness passes as he unfastens his belts, shimming out of his leathers before Asch finally parts and pushes on his arms, gasping from both his kiss and the advance of it all. 

 

Illidan was far too excited he knew, his cock was already painfully hard against his leg, and only now did he realize it too could be felt by her, his cock was nestled the junction between her thigh and cunt, hot and twitching against her soft skin. Illidan resists the urge to move and continues to ravage her skin, hoping she would not voice her panic if he distracted her. Illidan’s cock was a source of pride for him, both in size and impressiveness. The head was a deeper colour than the rest of his body, a single vein ran along the underside and it curved naturally straight. 

 

Illidan could only groan as Asch’s thighs squeezes his cock helplessly between them by accident, which only caused her to shake with embarrassment. “You’re so beautiful,” he moans softly, overcome by the warmth of her thighs. Asch can only make aborted attempts to speak, ruined by little moans as he licks her kisses her breasts, laving his warm and large tongue across her left nipple. Illidan could feel the heat between her legs, his cock drenched from what dripped from her thighs. 

 

Asch shifted and shocked Illidan to his very core, her lips parts against his cock and he knew it had been on purpose because he face was hidden in his neck as her arms squeezed around his neck. “Gods.” He breathes, allowing his hips to move, letting his cock slide against her. Asch stifles her sounds against his skin, allowing him the pleasure being the only to hear it. Illidan felt the tip of his cock catch on her opening and hesitates, pausing long enough for Asch to look at him and realize what he wished.

 

Illidan cants his hip, the head popping inside of her, engulfing him in heat. Asch’s eyes widen and her face became tight with discomfort, but as he promised, he would do as anything he could too lessen her pain. Carefully pushes his hand between their bodies, Illidan found her pink bud and fingered with with soft strokes, watching the pleasure unfold in her face as he continued to press his cock into her slowly. Illidan only paused once more when he felt the line of resistance, knowing then he shouldn’t just shove himself passed it. Asch began to squirm in pleasure against his fingers, soft little, “oh...” and “ah-“ escaping her lips as he felt more slick rolls down his cock in beads. Watching her face carefully Illidan waited for the tell of her impending orgasm to crest, just as it did, he just forward, pushing passed. Asch have a shout of pain, Illidan watched tears escape her eyes “Illidan- it- it-“ Asch wails quietly, sobbing at the pain, Illidan does all he can for it, stilling himself despite the warmth and continuing to circle his fingers against her, while placing butterfly kisses along her trembling shoulders “I'm so sorry my love,” he says into her skin, “it will never hurt again, I will never let you feel such pain again.” Her tears wet his skin and Illidan can feel the heavily flow of blood warmly roll down his thighs and become sticky along their decent. His balls jumped at the feeling, causing him to flinch a little in arousal, but Asch gasps in pain once more at the motion and Illidan berates himself quietly for it. 

 

 

Asch’s hands loose their tight grip against his arms, and tenderly, as if apologizing, rub circles into his biceps, it distracts him just enough so his eyes reach hers and a small, pained smile is there, “Yes?” He says hopefully, his abdomen so tight with pleasure that it was painful. Asch gave a tiny nod and Illidan moves, first drawing out very carefully, than pushing inside an inch further. Asch gasps, but this is a mixture of pain and something else, so Illidan pushes his luck as always, and dares to press the entire length of his cock inside of her. Illidan imagined it hundreds of times, but the feeling of it, being so close and perfectly nestled inside, nothing compared anymore. 

 

 

Illidan felt his cock pulsing inside, the eager twitch and beg for release, he felt Asch too, the was her walls convulsed and tightens around him. “Illidan it’s- t-to m-much-“ she whines, and Illidan could t fathom a more devine sounds as he purrs. They were so close, pressed together like perfect pieces, Illidan couldn’t possibly believe it was too much for her, she fit him perfectly, more than perfectly- he couldn’t even describe it in words, so he simply licked her skin and pawed at her soft, rounded behind. 

 

 

“We were made for one another,” He coos, terribly overcome with emotion unlike him. “I will never let you go,” He babbles, angling his hips and thirsting gently, watching her face become loose and eyes lose focus “you will want for nothing,” he cannot help himself now, words flow from his lips as his cock continues to bury itself inside her, “I will love

you until my last breath- and I will still even after.” Asch gasps wantonly, a beautiful instemmed sound that Illidan assures is aloud only to his ears. “Oh Illidan-“ Asch moans, and her cunt tightens all over again and this time Illidan feels her cum on his cock, and unable to help it, Illidan finished with a broken sound, letting it spurt inside, his hips braced and locked to ensure nothing escapes her. His name is whispered in a mantra of pleasure, growing fuller and she grows tired. 

 

 

Illidan gently pulls her forward, letting her fall into the sheets of his bed, admiring the sweat glistening across her skin and the mess between their legs. Illidan pulls himself free, watching the blood tinged finish leak from her raw and red-bruised opening. Without a second though he goes to the bathroom, returning quickly with a warm damp cloth and gently massages away the mess. Asch pants, little pained sounds making their way out of her mouth as he tried to be gentle. After he is fisnihed he quickly, half heartily, cleans himself before easing into bed next to her. 

 

 

Asch rolls into his embrace as he pulls the furs over them, Illidan cannot help the wide smile across his face as he feels her fall asleep, joining her shortly. 

Chapter 158: Aethas dabbles 6

Summary:

Aethas Sunreaver/Asch Sunheart

 

I love these two a lot! So I hope you enjoy!

Chapter Text

Aethas rolls over and glares at the blackness of his room, with no window he cannot tell the time of day, if it was early or still late. Pushing up from the bed he rubs his face, hissing in pain as his muscles protest the motion. It was rather cold in his room and Aethas found no fire place to stave off the chill. With a huff of irritation he rolls out of bed and stalks toward the hallway. 

 

Asch’s bedroom door was open and inside was empty, the sheets were folded over and the fire was going, but Asch was no where to be found. His ears perk at the sounds of foot steps upstairs and quicky he climbs the carpeted stairs two at a time, poking his head into the kitchen that laid beyond. Asch was wearing her fuzzy yellow robe and watching food cook in the sizzling pan on her stove, her gaze measured but thoughtful. Aethas rose his brow at the fact there were sets of two instead of a meal for one. 

 

 

With a wolffish smile and quiet steps he stalks toward her, his hands winding around her stomach and yanking Asch into his embrace. Asch yelps in surprise and Aethas can smell vanilla in her hair and purrs softly “The Ice Queen is making me breakfast,” he coos, “I’m touched.” Asch glares back at him, unamused as she squirms in his hold. “It will be burnt if you distract me.” Aethas inhales deeply, humming as he lets her slip out of his grasp, instead he leans his hip onto the counter, crossing his arms over his bare chest and smugly watching Asch as she flips eggs. 

 

“Where did you learn to cook?” He asks, sniffling as smell of bacon wafted in the air. “I live alone, I had too.” Aethas hums, he should have assumed that much, since she lived in the middle of no where. “Why bother? Conjured food is as good as any.” Aethas argues, spinning on his heel and again invading her space. Asch flicks her gaze to his arms, both stretched out on either side of her and hands flat on the counter. She can feel his chest press into her back and idly rolls her eyes, “It’s good to know how either way,” it was rare now that she conjuered food, only on occasions that she was too tired to get up or engrossed in a book. 

 

 

Asch bites her lip, than adds “My mother bakes. It felt wrong to not know how.” Aethas makes a curious hum behind her, intrigued greatly at her sharing, and asks  “What did your father do?” It was a innocent question, one born of strange interest, why he wished to know was a mystery, but she supposed answering something so simple would do no harm. “A tome keeper- many of these books are his.” Asch felt his hair brush her shoulders as his head turned to look at the shelves toward her living room, “Are? Not were?” Asch shakes her head at his words, “He lives, so does my mother. He is an archivist and my mother owns a cake shop. They live in Ironforge.” 

 

 

Asch takes the eggs from the pan and sets them in the plates beside her, grabbing the pancake batter she prepared earlier, gently spooning the liquid into the pan and enjoying the smell as she felt Aethas push off the counter and wander toward her books. 

 

“How does a bookkeeper father a mage?” Aethas snorts as if it was a grand joke, true that her father had no talent for magic, but he kept the books for it. Asch finds some humour in his words, but frowns at his smirk as he thumbs through one of the older, well kept editions of arcane magic. 

 

 

“The food is nearly finished, sit down.” At her words Aethas slinks into the sofa, transfixed on the book in his hands. Asch wasn’t very pleased with his choice of seat, but she doubted he would make a mess, so Asch allows it as she plates their food and carries it over. Aethas regards the food carefully as he places the book down, “What a proper little house wife you’d be,” he says smugly. Asch glares at him and, without wishing to ruin her sofa, flicks a small cube of ice at his face, making his nose scrunch and face foul up. 

 

“You should be so lucky,” Asch hisses, picking at her breakfast. 

 

“Oh I was so lucky.” He coolly responds, making her face heat up instantly. Asch grips her fork, staring in displeasure as he eats, a lopsided smirk present along his face.

 

 “you said you wouldn’t be horrible any longer.” Asch mutters in displeasure. 

 

Aethas grins sharply, “I said I would attempt.” Asch wanted to hit him, but as the urge grew, it began to die as she watched his snarky grin turn soft at the edges and suddenly she felt a little fluttery. 

 

“You said your mother bakes, do you?” Asch was surprised by his voice, the rounded tone and nearly sweet sound of it, “Yes... I do.” Aethas ponders her words and a gravelly hum escapes his throat, “I should like to see you in an apron. Perhaps you’ll make me cupcakes, hm?” Asch wasn’t sure how to respond to how implicating his words were, his face was innocent but there was little to suggest it was, from his tone to how dark his eyes become. Asch struggles to finish her food as her hands start to lose their purpose. 

 

“Why not show me how?” He says, and sounds as if it was a grand idea, “There’s little else to do today.” Asch blinks, he wasn’t entirely wrong, her day would have been filled with whatever the Kirin Tor decided, but neither of them returned to Dalaran for them to have duties assigned, and it wasn't mandatory they do, like it was for others. Khadgar, in fact, said she may take as little or as much on as she liked and come and go as she pleased, not unlike an outdoor cat. 

 

“You wish to learn how to... bake?” He nods to her question eagerly, with eyes lit up and slightly suspicious to her, Asch glares thinly, trying to deduce his plan, but she cannot see anything on his face as he sets his empty plate aside. “Fine...” she mutters, feeling like it was a bad idea, then adds “No magic!” 

 

 

Asch gathers most of the supplies on the counter after they cleaned breakfast, Aethas tailing her like a toddler, asking all kinds of questions like, what is this for? Why does it need this? Or her favourite, what’s this do? It was certainly clear that Aethas had never cooked in his life. “We need to get eggs,” she says, overlooking all the ingredients she had. “We have eggs,” Aethas says flatly, holding open the fridge, pointing to them with a look of confusion. 

 

Asch felt her stomach lurch at the realization they both had said we, and not, she. 

 

“Not the right kind. Mother doesn’t use regular ones.” Aethas cocks a brow, head tilted, but he relents “Well. Let’s get eggs then.” 

 

 

Aethas walks with Asch as she examines the eggs, they went to Dalaran knowing they might be bothered, but Aethas suggested the more horde-centric side for shopping and thus far no one annoyed them. 

 

“Did your mother bake much?” Asch asks offhandly, inspecting an egg with scrutiny. Aethas watches her thriftily pluck eggs from their containers and place them discreetly into her own. He thought it was silly, that all of them looked the same but Asch was insistent that she would only get the best eggs. 

 

“Quite a lot actually,” Aethas muses, “She made excellent bread.” Aethas doesn’t completely remember his mother, she was a quiet women, a kind one- a warm person that always smelt like cloves. 

 

“Oh?” Asch looks up at him, Aethas hums in response “What did she do?” Asch ponders, smiling as she placed another egg into her basket. 

 

“She was a wife and mother, she did assist in some births as a midwife, as I remember.” Asch bites the inside of her cheek, frowning and coming to understand why he behaved the way he did.

 

“And your father?” She asks, Aethas moves around her as they approach the shop keeper, quickly paying the women and watching Asch grow irritated as she shoves gold back into the purse she brought.

 

“An advisor, they died in the war.” Asch brushes his arm, trying to be tender, “He was a good man,” Aethas mutters, face haunted. 

 

Asch opened her mouth to say something, but just as she tried to speak, a young man with a tanned face hurried up to them in a panic, screaming suddenly, “Archmage Sunreaver-! We- we found it!” Aethas spins, gawking at the boy, “Found what?” 

 

 

“Felo’melorn!” 

 

 

Aethas and Asch straighten in surprise, eyes both wide, and disbelief clouding them “You’ve found the weapon?” Aethas chokes out, watch the boy nod quickly “Where?” 

 

 

“Icecrown! I can fill you in as we travel, Archmage.” Asch presses her lips together at the boys words, the basket hanging between them like a limp weight, Aethas peers at her, a hesitant look about him, Asch smiles tensely, strangely looking forward to making cupcakes with him. 

 

“Go,” she says, despite the sour feeling. Aethas looks excited and let’s her take the basket and he leaves with the tanned skinned boy through a portal and Asch is left standing by herself, holding eggs. 

 

 

Aethas felt the sting of Icecrowns chill hit his face full on as he emerged from the portal, beyond stood two other figures, one was clearly Khadgar and the other was a stoic looking Highelf. Aethas sizes him up bluntly, with a pinch in his brow. The man before him clutches a long staff, the head glowing a mute orange. His shoulders were large and his face was handsome. Khadagr looks between the two of them and chuckles awkwardly “Archmage, this is Aydonis Lightsong, he is the pledge sent from the council of Tiragarde.” 

 

The other elf does not move to acknowledge Aethas, only continues to look passed him, disinterested across his face. “Ah.” Aethas exhales the words with distain, a small part believed that he would have gotten the sword, not some strange champion, who clearly isn’t as invested. “Shall we then?” Khadgar smiles tensely. 

 

Aethas could only partly seem interested, now that the excitement died away, his thoughts were clouding over with what he had left behind. Asch appeared fine with his departure, but he wondered if it was at all worth it now. He remembers his old kitchen and his mother making pies, the smell of it and the soft singing that amused his ears as a child. Asch’s kitchen was small and lovely, the baking would fill the air with warmth and sugar. A very small part hoped that she would allow him to make the icing. Mother let him mix the colours and lick the spoon. 

 

 

Aethas was repulsed by his hopefulness, it was a childish wish and foolish of him overall, but his mind kept wandering to it as the trudged through Icecrown to collect the sword. Asch reminded him of his mother, though Aethas could not place her face any longer, they shared the small figure and delicate features, where Asch has soft snowy hair, his mother had rusty red. The two were hardly similar as people however. Asch was not quiet, not demur and rather irritatingly hardheaded. 

 

Aethas sighs as he waits for Aydonis, on the sideline, which would have irritated him greatly, save his occupied mind. Father always told him that any man, so long as they were strong willed could make anyone bend to them, and put women where they belonged, so Aethas would temper her in the long run. It seemed there was something between them and it was worth exploring. 

 

Aydonis returned after some time with the sword in his grip, examining it with aggravating disinterest. Aethas bit into his cheek to stop himself from biting at him as Khadgar begun to cast a return portal to Dalaran, which Aethas found all the more irritating considering they were all mages themselves. Aethas wanted to slink away and make something of the rest of the day before it was lost, but it would look strange if he hurried away too fast upon returning, so he spent some time with Khadgar, talking about meaningless events and he was mindful of straying far away from Asch and the idea of her waiting to make cupcakes with him. 

 

Though he was becoming anxious as the sun started to set, all the more when a another horde mage came along to discuss some documents with him, “quickly then,” he hisses, pulling the low ranking elf along with him. “My application was submitted and pending review for your Sunreavers order, Archmage.” The boy says eagerly, a bright smile across his face. Aethas couldn’t even pretend he found interest in the idea as he hummed dismissively, fiddling with the lock in his door with magic, rather than use keys the Kirin Tor used magic imprints on their doors to lock them. 

 

The door swung open and Aethas was stunned for a moment as he realized Asch was sitting on his desk. “Finally!” Asch chirps, smiling gently, in her lap was a cloth tied box, and as it appeared, she was wearing an apron. Covering her usual silk dress was a patterned apron with strawberries and bows, ruffles all around the edges with lace and even though he couldn’t see it properly, a large and voluptuous bow tying the back. “Oh!” The boy squeaks beside him, ruining the vision completely. 

 

 

“I didn’t know your wife was waiting for you. Hello misses Sunreaver!” Asch’s face drops and Aethas barely makes a sound in protest of the young man, who continues not realizing how chilly the place had become. “You’re so lucky, Archmage, I wish I had a wife who would bake all day for me like this!” His words were without maliciousness, but they turned rotten in Asch and Aethas could see it clearly as she begun to darken, even icicles leaked from the ceiling. 

 

 

“I am not his wife!” Asch bites, “I am an Archamage!” Without letting the boy do anything but sputter badly, she leaves in a flurry of anger, gone from their presence with the acidic taste of arcane magic left behind. Aethas enhales deeply, eyes fluttering shut as he tempers himself as the boy next to him sputters out apologies. 

 

“Get out of my office.” Aethas hears the door slam before he finishes the sentence. 

 

Aethas steps into the snow and sinks as he walks through the portal in front of her home. Mages were not known for being well versed in portals that don’t have strict connections to cities, but Aethas was rather proud of his tenacity and learnt very quickly how to do it properly, a secret he kept hidden quite well. 

 

Aethas knocks to be polite, but after doing so he opens the door anyway, seeing Asch curled tightly in the sofa, cupcake wrappers spread and disposed of all over the coffee table. 

 

“Asch-“ He begins, but then is interrupted  “You’re telling people I’m your wife now?!” She interrupts, sniffling as she sways her glass of wine, one that was still quite full. 

 

Aethas places his coat down along with his staff and approaches her carefully, “Asch I promise you that I haven’t.” Aethas is surprised at her lack of bite as he pulls the wine glass from her hands, but she seemed too upset to do anything besides cry. “You ate the cupcakes without me,” He comments lightly, chuckling gently. Asch hiccups and pouts, unaffected by his efforts “And made them too. How cruel of you.” 

 

 

Aethas watches as she lifts her hand, wondering if he should be worried, but is pleasantly surprised when she gently presses her palm to his cheek “There’s still some left.” Aethas perks up, and instantly goes to open the tin. Asch made chocolate cupcakes with pink icing, and Aethas peeled the wrapping off and bit into it, moaning softly at the taste. 

 

“It’s the eggs,” Asch mutters, smiling around her tears. Aethas swallows, petting her knee gently. “I’m sorry, he should have known who you were-“ It’s not that!” Asch sheiks suddenly, upset once more but far angrier then before. Aethas watches her rip the blankets off and jump from the sofa, pacing in a rut as she huffs. 

 

“I don’t want to be just someone’s wife! I’m an Archmage!” Aethas licks the frosting off his teeth as he listens, “I’ve worked all my life for this and if people think I’ll become just someone’s wife- they... they are wrong!” Aethas hums softly in response, unsure of how to proceed, worried if he said anything that she would grow angry with him. 

 

“Is there anything I can do to help you?” Aethas whispers, wondering if even that was too loud. Asch halts, a strange look in her eyes. 

 

“Get on your knees.” Aethas blinks at her request, brows arched in shock. His tongue licks across his teeth and runs over his lips, a subtle, small nod and Aethas slides onto the floor. Asch approaches him slowly, eyes unfocused and a flush across her cheeks “Are you inebriated?” He asks softly, hands reaching for her dress. Aethas feels his cheek being squeezed, his neck pushed back as she forces it to arch to look at her. 

 

“What of it?” Asch snarls darkly, eyes cloudy, little flashes like lightening breaking beneath the pale blue. “Asch I-“ “Do as you’re told.” Aethas’ mouth is clamped shut moments after he feels the chill across his cheeks. Asch’s skin was glowing a soft pink and Aethas could see it even in the low light. Aethas licks his lips, and gently nods, feeling her fingers slip from his cheeks and into his hair, pushing it from his forehead. 

 

Aethas lifts her dress from the ground, sneaking his warm hands onto her hips, feeling how cool her skin had become. Aethas focuses on it, heats a pattern into her leg and makes her shiver, “S-Say... i-it” she begs softly, a mournful tone, Aethas makes a soft, confused noise, letting his eyes wander toward here again, Asch swallows visibly looking at him, “Say I-I w-wouldn’t j-just be y-your w-wife.” 

 

Aethas shifts on his knees, mouth hanging open, but his expression rounds out and softens “You would be an Archmage.” He says, voice deep and resounding. Before Aethas knew it, Asch was sinking into his lap, her breath short and noisy. Her lips reach his and tenderly press into his, her hands taking clumps of his hair as she pulls him closer. 

 

“Let me take you to bed,” he whispers, “To rest.” The words press firmly from his mouth, he watches her, wonders what her reaction will be, but is surprised that she nods gently. 

 

“I-I d-don’t w-want t-to be... be a-alone.” Asch murmurs, clutching his clothes now in her hands, keeping him close. Aethas simply nods at the request, in fact, He did not want to leave her alone as it was. Likely he would have stayed on the sofa there, watching until she fell asleep while reading her father’s ancient tomes.

 

Aethas doesn’t let her attempt walking and lifts her up in his arms, despite the rousing fury across her face, Asch says nothing and huffs quietly as they descend the steps to her room. Aethas offered the bathroom to her and waits in her room as she uses it. When Asch emerges from it she’s wearing a softer, more airy night dress. Aethas almost touched it as she passed him, the shiny silk looking inviting. It came down to her knees and had little detailing, beside the lace at the very bottom, the colour was baby blue and reminded him of icicles. 

 

Aethas watches her crawl into bed, become consumed by the fur as her drowsy eyes look to him. Not wanting to make her wait long for him, Aethas removes his robes and slips his pants off, nearly tripping as he tried to kick them off. 

 

As his knee hit the bed, Asch’s hands reach for him and Aethas takes one offered, kissing her wrist tenderly as he sinks into the soft beside her, weight pressing down enough to make Asch slide closer. Aethas wraps his arms around her, fanning his bear hands over her back and enjoying the feeling of her nightgown. Asch buried herself in his embrace, hands loosely wrapped around his sides, nose cradled in the tendons of his throat. Aethas felt a single, hesitant kiss and he smiles, deciding it was innocent enough to than kiss her forehead. 

 

Aethas feels his bones crack and he sighs in pleasure, nuzzling in the tuffs of fur from the blanket that reaches up to his nose. Aethas inhales and blinks his eyes open slowly, the nice glow of the fire making his chest feel warm and pleasant. 

 

Against his hip he felt subtle shifting, glancing over he can see Asch, rolling into her belly, sound asleep. Aethas turns into his side, rustling the furs, propping himself up with his fist. Aethas watches how her back curves, the gentle wave of her breath as it lifted and sunk her into the sheets, she breathes deeply, making the furs shake gently. 

 

Aethas leans, sitting upward and flicking his fingers, letting a spark fly toward the fire, reigniting it as it begun to die. Aethas shakes, sighing deeply, falling back and turning into his side. Than, an idea struck him, Aethas shifts until he’s hovering over Asch, hands holding him up enough not to crush her. Aethas can smell the honey in her hair and kisses her head firmly, humming his enjoyment as Asch stirs.

 

“Good morning” he mutters, continuing to kiss her, Asch moans tiredly, her head turning and allowing him to kiss her cheek. “Aethas...?” She murmurs sleepily, eyes easing open and foggy with sleep. Aethas smiles against her cheek, peppering tiny kisses along her skin, feeling it heat up from his efforts. 

 

Aethas snakes his hand under her, kissing her shoulders as he worms his fingers over her belly. “Now that you’ve had my cock-“ Aethas smiles as she flinches at his words, “may I fuck you with my fingers?” Asch’s mouth opens, but only a soft “Oh...” escapes as his fingers snake into her panties. Aethas purrs as he feels the warmth and wetness while he pushes her lips open. 

 

Asch arches her bottom into his front, “mh- Aethas...” Asch wiggles into his palm, making his fingers push into her shallowly. Aethas peppers kisses along her back, nosing the silk nightdress as Asch squirms. Bracing on his knees he uses his other hand to push her panties down her legs. 

 

 

Aethas chuckles as Asch lifts her bottom up, face nuzzled in the pillows, but eyes watching him, surrounded by pink blush. “I knew you’d look nice bent over for me.” Aethas coos, watching her frown. Aethas chuckles as he thrusts his fingers, watching the hateful expression peter out across her face. 

 

Aethas sits up, taking his fingers and licking them clean, loudly sucking as he pulls his cock from his boxers. Asch spreads herself open, back arching deeply, cunt glistening. Aethas holds his cock, easing it inside until hilted. Asch shifts, adjusting him inside and sighing in pleasure as Aethas moves with her, they create a pace that’s tender, surprisingly, much to Aethas’ liking. Aethas squeezes her flesh, slapping her bottom, making a stinging sound. Asch jumps, yelping “Aethas-!” She snarls, while Aethas takes the opportunity to pull her into his lap. 

 

 

Aethas feels her hands grip his forearms, icing his skin “I don’t like that!” She snaps at him, teeth showing as she glares at him. Aethas coos, “Should I kiss it better?” Ice begins to form a shell around his arms. Aethas pushes his luck, running his hands up her ribs, cupping her breasts in his hands “I could lick it better?” Little layers of ice chip off his arms and Aethas begins to shiver as her fury grows. “S-Stop it!” She sputters, lip curling in displeasure. Aethas thrusts up, distracting her and causing the ice to thin and break off. 

 

Asch reaches behind her, clutching his neck and bringing them closer, a soft, hesitant smile reaching her lips as she leans her head back “At l-least you’re... oh- on y-your knees-“ 

 

Aethas snorts, rolling his eyes, continuing to knead her breasts, playing with her nipples and rolling them with the pads of his fingers. Aethas nibbles her ear, enjoying the soft sounds escaping her as his cock pulses inside of her. Asch’s nails dig harshly into his skin, bringing a prickle of pain that makes Aethas hiss. In response Aethas bites her shoulder, making a mark but not being cruel and making it painful. Asch giggles and shivers, shocking Aethas with the sound. “Like a puppy,” she hums, wiggling on his cock, mocking him. Aethas feels his eyelids droop in pleasure, a smirk lopsided on his jaw. 

 

In one swift motion Aethas shoves her down into the bed, making her scramble onto her knees, “Oh I’ll fuck you like an animal if that’s what you want,” he snaps, feeling her cunt squeeze him. Asch breathes deeply, a growl escaping her throat as she fully pulls herself away from him, his cock falling out of her in a wet slap against Aethas thigh. “No!” Aethas watches curiously as she stands on her knees and turns, scowling at him with a glint in her eyes. 

 

 

Aethas grunts as she pushes his shoulders, eyes wide as he falls back and strains to watch her climb into his lap. “Oh this again?” He purrs expectantly, watching her cunt lips part against his cock. Asch sits up, taking his cock in her hand and steadying it before sitting on it, taking all of him in one motion. 

 

Aethas grins, watching her have trouble with the motions, “Are you going to tie me up again?” Aethas lifts his arms above his head, putting his wrists close together, baiting her with an infuriating smirk. Asch glares at him, steadying herself with her hands on his stomach “Did... did y-you want- want m-me t-too?” She was panting now, shaking gently. Aethas groans at her squirming, arms twitching, attempting action. “Go on, sweetheart-“ he pauses as the words escaped him, something clamped around his wrists, Aethas tugs, but there is no give. 

 

Aethas laughs then, amused as she grows huffy, pouting at him as he doesn’t take her seriously “I cannot wait to have you on your knees- mouth stuffed full of my cock.” Despite the power she had moments ago, Aethas watches her blush deeply and feels her thrusts grow uncertain and all confidence lost. Aethas stays right where he is, smug and showing it, “Your cunt fits my cock so well doesn’t it?” He says, Asch bites her lip, colouring red as she bounces on his cock. 

 

“Should I tie you up, sweetheart?” He coos, watching her frown despite her pleasure “You’d like that wouldn’t you? Tied to your headboard- maybe I’ll blindfold you, hm?” Aethas grins wildly as her cunt acts like a vice around him, her whole body shaking in pleasure “God’s you want it don’t you? You’d love to be fucked into the mattress.”

 

 

Asch mewls softly, shaking her head frantically, Aethas watches her sink down on him, then slip down toward him. Asch kisses him, deeply and fast, her breath puffs out in his face “I-I w-want y-you...” she whispers, groping his muscles. Aethas sighs with great pleasure, “Oh you’ll have me, as much as you want.”

 

Aethas and Asch are so consumed with each other that when the gasp of shock came through the room they were slow to react, but once both their gaze drew to the door, the magic around Aethas’ wrists vanished with a shatter and on instinct he launched up, covering Asch as well as he could.

 

“Vereesa?!” Asch belts, ears wilted and face white with fear. Aethas shifts the furs, pulls Asch off of him, arousal lost and eyes wide. 

 

“What’s- what is this?!” She screams, both hands on each frame of the door. “I think it’s obvious what this is,” Aethas says darkly, irritation boiling under his skin as Asch is frantic in his arms “Aethas!” Asch hisses back, but he only rolls his eyes, “What?” He drawls, as if any of this was his fault. Asch climbs out of bed, fixing her nightdress in place, taking a step closer, only for Vereesa to take one back.

 

“Just let me explain- Vereesa please.” Asch begs, hands in front of her like she was approaching a dangerous animal. Aethas fixes himself and stands, grabbing his robes and unabashedly pulling it over his head. 

 

 

“Oh you’ll be explaining alright!” Vereesa snarls, face twisted in sickness and hatred “you’ll explain this to Jaina- sleeping with the enemy- Sunreaver at that!” Aethas suddenly jerks, anger consuming in like a tide “I had nothing to do with Theramore!” 

 

 

Vereesa sneers at him, “You are as much at fault as that Orc scum! And you-!” She points to Asch, completely consumed with rage “Rhonin would be ashamed of you! How dare you sully his memory and betray him like this! And betray the Alliance like this!” Aethas pushes passed Asch in a fit, pressing her behind him protectively. 

 

“Silence you witch-! Her worth does not stem from your dead husbands pride!” At Aethas’ words Vereesa grows still with shock, “I protected my people saying nothing of that bell and this is the last I should defend that choice! Hellscream would have seen us all dead and we are the last people you should find offence in! Especially her!” Aethas can feel her hands grips his robes, silent for the most part, but he could feel her rage in the frost growing on his back, who she was angry at was a mystery, but Aethas hoped it was not him, after all he only meant to defend her. 

 

 

Vereesa’s face grows a shadow, her eyes dark and dangerous “Let us see what Jaina has to say of it then.” And without another words she farts up the stairs and Aethas doesn’t even try to stop her, “Asch I-“ He turns to look at her, watching her face grow hopeless and her eyes lost “I’m sorry.” 

 

Chapter 159: Illidan Omegaverse dabbles 7

Summary:

Illidan Stormrage/Asch Redfires

I’m a gooey mess so I wrote a massive sex chapter, because I can’t with these too.

Enjoy!

Chapter Text

Malfurion snarls viciously, the only thing pausing his action was Tyrande, holding him at bay. “You have gone too far!” He hisses, glaring at the demon who holds his brothers face. Illidan is equally at battle, his hands clawed, nails like talons. “I have saved you!” Illidan yells back, new wings stretching out behind him, blanketing out the moon above them. Malfurion growls sharply, his eyes deeply tinted with black rage, “You have consorted with demons and condemned yourself Illidan- this I cannot stand for!” Than in that moment his brothers expression drops, “I will spare your life because you are my brother, but you shall never walk among your people again. Leave Illidan, leave and never return.” Illidan has no words for his brother, only fury bottled inside, nearly uncorked, as he bought he may lash out from his containment, Tyrande leans toward Malfurion’s ear and his face grows dire. 

 

“And so you condemn her to this too have you?!” Malfurion wretches his arm from Tyrande’s, all his might washing like a powerful tide. Illidan expects the challenge and their hands collide as Malfurion attempts to shove him, their fingers threaded and squeezing with hateful power and rage, “It is you who condemns her!” Illidan shouts, feeling himself begin to overpower his brother with his new strength, Malfurion does not show his struggle, “She is tied to your fate and your choices! And you have chosen- this!” Malfurion’s feet began to uproot the grass as he is dragged backward by Illidan’s force, “I have chosen to save Azeroth! To save her! All I have done- was done in the service of life!” Malfurion’s nails dig into his hands, causing green blood to raise from the back of his hands, rivet down his skin and tickle the flesh. 

 

 

“If not for her I would have you pay for your crimes,” Malfurion whispers, finally pushing back and in a sudden motion, forcing Illidan into staggering slightly, “Take her to her fate and see how undeserving she is of it.” Illidan is too slow to speak, his brother already in flight as a majestic bird, Tyrande only spared a moment, a pitied look, before leaping atop her saber and bounding off in the direction of his brother. Illidan scowls angrily, watching them both until he can no longer make out their figures, it is only then does he move, a great leap, a bit novice, but his wings unfold from his back and he too takes off in a flurry. 

 

 

Illidan had little on his mind as he flew toward the soldiers tents, surely quelled in number, after all the battle was over, though he was not sure the war had been won. What swam in his mind however gave him prickles of fear; what if Asch did not want him either? Malfurion was his own blood and even he could not stand to look at him any longer, Illidan barely had time to examine himself, but it was not so horrible as they had said. Illidan could feel the horns curve from his head and the weight was cumbersome, but like all things he would grow to be used to them. The most strange thing to have happen was the loss of his toes, in place hooves, this would take much time to get used too and even in the short time Illidan felt strange, odd that he could not longer feel the earth against his feet as he once did. 

 

Still, it was not so terrible. 

 

 

Illidan felt his mood blacken along with his nerves, she could hate him, turn him away and forsake the bond they had shared, one of few things he cared for could he lose and Illidan was readily flying toward his own doom. He had to shake his head of the thought, Asch was not so cruel as that, the brighter, smaller part of him knew- hoped, she would look at him, know his face and just be happy he was alive. Illidan worries his lip as he landed, there was only a single tent left in this place, it was hers and she was there. As he walked with no sound, he wondered where they would go, would it be easier to lead her to their people and leave her? Cruel of course, but not unkind and he realized his brother was partly right. What life would they have now? His choice was for Azeroth, but he had not thought what it would personally do to him. 

 

Illidan could smell something being made, the sweet scent of honey and vanilla mingling with it. In his minds eye he always imagined coming home like this, approaching a humble little home and smelling dinner and his mate, a resounding feeling of peace and love. Illidan felt his love all over again, but it was surrounded in terror. Illidan walks, knowing if he wasted more time that it would be for nothing but his own sake. 

 

Illidan touches the side of the tent, rounding it with careful movements, not unlike a predator, she was there and finally visible to him and everything he wanted her to be. Asch sat in front of a pot, stirring what smelt like soup of some kind, humming a soft and wonderful tune. Her legs were folded under her, the pads of her feet exposed to the harsh wind, still she looked happy. Illidan opens his mouth, but finds he cannot speak. He felt cowardly, but decides to resign his fate without a word, and steps closer.

 

 

The shadow alone that he cast was distracting enough to Asch that she pauses, head pulling away from her work, instead of looking his way, she follows the length of the shadow, and first sees the shadowed outline of his horns. First she squeaks, frightened and thinking it was a demon, he could tell that was her thought, but than she spins in her spot, her heart beating loudly and fast, Illidan could hear it hammering, pulsing, nearly bursting from her ribs. For a moment her pretty eyes lock with his, than hers wildly examine the rest of him, registering. Asch’s little nose perks as it sniffs, flexing cutely despite her expression.

 

 

Finally, her throat bobs, and she speaks “Illidan..?” Her hands scrap along the grass below, lifting herself shakily. Illidan did not discount the look of fear in her eyes as she apprched him, nervously and without an exit. Illidan could not take the reaction personally, but it hit him all the same. “Asch...” he mutters, finding his voice. Asch looks as if she’s struggling, unsure of what or how to say something, but eventually she speaks, “A-Are you... y-you alright?” Illidan knew what she had meant by it, but instead he says, “are you?” Tears came to her eyes, and he could not tell if it was bad or good, “Of- of course I am- Illidan-!” He had not expected it, but his muscles had and in an instant he was on his knees, clutching Asch desperately as she cradled his head, it was not without awkwardness, thanks to his horns which he still had to grow used too. 

 

“I-I’m so g-glad you’re... you’re here!” She cries, unable to let go of him, “They- they all said it- it was over... b-but I... I waited and-“ Illidan rumbles softly, shaking his head gently, “It’s alright,” he promises softly, “Everything will be alright.” 

 

 

They sit for a time and Illidan tells her everything he was witness too, what he had done to become as he had, the power of the skull of Gul’dan and that Malfurion and Tyrande decided to forsake him for his sacrifice. Asch for her part was fidgeting, and she was not well at hiding her face as she looked at him. Asch’s eyes strayed from his eyes as he spoke, looking at one thing or another, nodding along though she was not paying attention. Illidan had let it go, but as he finished speaking he could not help but feel a pit grow in his belly as she looked at him, though she could not hide her interest, he could not tell if it was bad or good.

 

Finally, his shame won out and he spoke, “Does my... appearance trouble you?” Asch snaps straight, her face colouring darkly in embarrassment, shame likely for being caught for brazenly inspecting him. Illidan tilts his head, the weight in his temple pressuring his neck slightly. “I- I-“ Asch fumbles, looking mortified. Illidan tosses his gaze away, the wretched feeling boiling over. He should have known better than to believe she could look upon him differently from the rest, he should not have been so simple minded. 

 

 

But while Illidan begin to retreat into himself, he had not noticed Asch had begun to ease her way to him, crawling soundlessly along the blanketed forest bed. Without making any sound she had pulled her skirts from her knees, lifting herself up and with grace, sitting in Illidan lap. Illidan himself jumps, inhaling sharply, only to smell thick honey and interest from her. Illidan almost chokes on it, so shocked at how heavy the scent was in his nose, but as he is frozen, Asch is not. In measured movements she lets her dress pile onto his legs, her hands free to touch his face, rather take his jaw into her hands and tilt his head enough that she may kiss him. 

 

It is by no means gentle or sweet, anything the Omega was herself, it was needy and commanding and consuming. Asch grips him in her hands, of course he could escape, but he would have to be half mad to consider such a thing as her tongue invaded his mouth, wanton moans flowing from her. Illidan feels all the air escape his chest until reality shattered like glass and his instincts took hold and he returns her affections with fever. Illidan brings his limp hands toward her, intending to touch her smooth thighs until he is stopped by a hand on his forearm. Illidan breaks away, rumbling deeply in an attempt to pacify her, and he can see the affect on her face as Asch presses her lips tightly together, eyes squeezed shut in effort, and to his surprise she does not relent to his Alpha commands, only shakes and grips harder. 

 

Illidan purrs at the challenge, eager to understand the sudden disobedience, though he could easily overpower her, he does not. “What’s this, Omega?” He says, still rumbling quietly just to see her struggle, Asch swallows and her throat bobs in effort as her knees shift on the ground. “Disobeying your Alpha?” He coos, watching how it makes her shift, once more he tries to move his arm, only to have her struggle to keep it still, Illidan however is amused and warmed at heart. “I smell how wet you are for me, Omega.” He purrs deeply, “Yet you disallow me my pleasure?” Asch whimpers softly, her wide spread legs shaking over his lap. 

 

“I-I want- I want to- to p-pleasure y-you-“ she struggles to say, panting wetly as her cheeks grow dark, “I-I want t-to t-touch you- A-Alpha...” she keens, eyes half lidded now and framed by beautiful snow white lashes. Illidan is baffled in that moment, struck by the love she held for him, struck by the fact she wished to show him that she loved what he was now. Still, it was a precious game, one he intended on playing. “How sweet,” He says, nipping her jaw and surprising her, “But how is it you’ll stop my hands from wandering, I wonder?” He toys with her by pushing his arm closer, watching her struggle against him as his other hand grips her leg swiftly. Illidan hums in victory as she divides her strength, both hands clutching his wrists in effort to pause his advances. 

 

“Why I think you'll have to restrain me, Asch.” Illidan says, watching her grow a bit frightened, “I-I w-would never!” She yelps, “Y-You have b-been in... in c-chains long enough!” Illidan feels his heart clench, “Oh my love,” he cannot help the lovesick tone in his voice as he coos, “There is nothing in this world that I care for more than I do you, Asch.” Asch becomes shy, curling in his lap at his sugary words, Illidan nuzzles his face into hers, “I find I do not mind the idea, if it is you who chains me.” Asch becomes impossibly pink at his words, her scent driving him mad. 

 

“I-I have n-nothing-“ She sputters, Illidan hums, trailing his hand up her thigh and feeling the slick there, “Best find something if you wish to have your way.” He chuckles, teasing her as she shoves at his hand desperately. Illidan was not so surprised when she leans away to snatch the scarf not far behind them, it was a pretty thing, long and blue. Illidan plays along as she ties his wrists together between them, but it only lasts a moment before he’s reaching for her again, much to her frustration.  

 

Asch squeaks and pushes at her dress, batting his hands away as he chuckles, “Come now Asch, do you not want my fingers buried inside you?” Illidan leans toward her neck, licking at his mark and kissing the skin as she squirms in pleasure, Asch bites her lip and than pushes his chest, in another show of indulgence, Illidan allows himself to be pushed on his back, lazily throwing his bound hands above his head, brow drawn in question and smirk plain to see. 

 

“Such defiance, little Omega,” he chides playfully, “What shall I punish you with after? Perhaps I redden your backside with my palm? Or deny you your finish until you beg me?” Asch shivers at his words, but persists still. Illidan knew he was chipping away at her word by word, and almost begun to speak again, if not for Asch lifting her dress from her body, allowing him to see her bear once more. Illidan felt the words catch in his throat as she lets her dress slump to the side of them, her chest flush with colour and cunt shiny and wet. 

 

Illidan unabashedly lets his eyes wander from the slopes of her breasts to her hips, than finally to the perfect cunt between her spread thighs, teasing him cruelly as she sits prettily atop his chiseled abdomen, wetting his heated skin with her slick. Illidan felt the growl raise from the recesses of his chest, push from the back of his throat and loudly escape his mouth, though he was keen to play her game, the knot twitching between his legs was not. Asch drags her hips against his hard stomach, panting as the sounds weaken her, Illidan can feel the result of his snarling, but still he allows himself to be powerless to appease her, though it was becoming difficult as Asch grew wetter. Illidan was being unfair to himself, forcing himself to watch her pretty face succumb to pleasure, how her eyes became hazy as she fucked herself against his belly rather than his cock. 

 

 

Still he would not beg, Alphas do not beg for anything. 

 

 

But he does poke, smirking fully as if he was not affected and says, “Such a pretty sight, but would you not wish to be speared on my knot instead of empty, Omega?” Asch’s hands ball into fists againt his chest, her lip abused between her teeth as her ears droop and burn from his words. Asch reluctantly reaches behind her, pausing her hips and clumsily undoing his belt and breeches, pulling at the laces until the tightness of them ebbed away. Illidan’s breath hitches as she pulls his cock free of its confines, stroking it once before sliding herself toward it. Illidan watches her, her belly brushes against his cock, letting him feel her skin until her breasts snugly encase his proud standing cock, nestling it between her soft mounds. Illidan sighs in pleasure, and hisses when he feels her lips press into the head of his cock. 

 

More surprised than anything, he says “Where did you learn that?!” Slight anger and jealously laced in his tone. Asch shyly licks her lips, “S-Soldiers- they- they didn’t touch me!” She hurries to say, “B-But I... I cannot h-help w-what I... I hear.” Illidan snarls greatly at this, consumed with anger at the thought of it, Tyrande should not have allowed her here in the first place, now her ears have heard things too abrasive. Illidan faulters in his rage as he feels her lips open around his cock, her tongue touching the head delicately. “Omega- enough!” Illidan hisses, jerking his wrists slightly, this was too foul to allow. 

 

Asch lifts her face once more, attempting to speak, but Illidan will not hear it, “I will not have you reduced to a whore.” She unlike him did not have the knowledge to know that this act was reserved for bought company, and not ones mate. “B-But I-“ Illidan snarls soundly, silencing her completely, “You have had your way Omega, but I will put you on your belly and be done with these games.” Asch presses her lips together, colouring sharply at his words and slightly distracting his rage with her scent once more. “Y-Yes Alpha...” Asch mutters obediently, climbing onto his hips without meeting his eye. Illidan purrs, “Go on Omega.” Asch fumbles, “Unless you are finished with your little game?” Asch shutters as she lifts herself up, his cock taken in hand. Illidan hums as his cock head brushes along her lips, paused at her opening, barely nestled inside. Asch slowly sits, easing herself down onto him until his balls press into her plump ass. A sigh of pleasured relief escapes her and a hiss rips from his chest. Illidan feels his knot expand slightly in the warm vice of her cunt.

 

 

“Careful Omega.” He rumbles quietly, letting Asch chase her pleasure as she decided, lifting herself on his cock without his control. His instincts were prickling under the surface of his skin, like a saber raging against thin wooden bars, “I-Illidan-“ she softly gasps rocking up and down the length of him, grinding his knot inside of her, Illidan was not sure if she was attempting to rile him, but he suffered it until she did it once more, with more force. Illidan yanks his wrists free of the scarf and lurches up, making Asch gasp and squeeze his cock. 

 

 

“Do you know you test me- or are you too innocent to realize it?” Asch arches her back, kissing his jaw softly and she digs herself down, touching his ribs with wispy fingers, tantalizing him with her defiance. Illidan enhales deeply, groping her plump behind, squeezing it to gain her attention, “Shall I breed you on your belly- or your back?” Asch, continuing her slight against him flutters her lashes toward him and dips backward, falling into the blanket and eyeing him expectantly. Illidan feels his wings twitch and open, her eyes are drawn to the sight, but she is only in awe as he cants his hips. 

 

 

Illidan feels her legs rub against his sides, gripping him closer. Illidan allows her to feel his knot, but is just cruel enough not to let her have it. Asch bears into him, attempting to take it, Illidan chuckles deeply, licking her skin as he rolls his hips gently, “Alpha- p-please... Illidan-“ Asch whines, exposing her neck in submission. Illidan’s breath hitches as his knot catches slightly, Illidan bites at her throat, not breaking the skin, but clamping his jaws firmly so she has the pleasure of the pressure of it. Illidan shoves his hips forward finally, his knot catching and balloons, sealing them together and sighing in pleasure. 

 

 

Asch coos as he fills her, basking in the sensation as they slump together in bliss. But Illidan does not feel so at peace, looking upon her face, he realizes that she can no longer go home. 

Chapter 160: Ifarian dabbles 2

Summary:

My dragon is back with a revived plot, thanks to my really good friend! So shout out to you my love.

Enjoy!

Chapter Text

Ifarian strides confidently from the keep, watching with utter amusement as civilians shrink away from his path. Mathias observes this with a turned lip and disturbed curiousness, unable to help himself, he asks “Most dragons have hidden themselves- why don’t you?” Ifarian does not look at the man trying to keep up with him, in fact the question was irritating enough that Ifarian’s face became foul. Mathias sighs softly behind him, “You would draw less attention if you did.” Ifarian’s face twitches and his chin raises, nose expelling dark smoke before he suddenly stops, glaring sharply. 

 

“Worry over the attention you draw, mortal.” Ifarian snarls darkly, “Your boy king knows much about me- I take it was yourself who told him.” Mathias raises a brow, giving a nod toward his assumption, Ifarian regards him with distaste, lip curling to expose his sharp and pearly white teeth “Then do not concern yourself with the attention I bring.” Mathias swallows visibly under Ifarian’s scrutiny, before either of them can continue there was a loud, frantic yelp from afar. A great sigh escapes Ifarian. Mathias’ head jerks to the noise, a women waving her arm, cheeks flushed and expression a mixture of exhaustion and excitement “Lord Osiris!” She calls, her hair swaying with her hurried steps. 

 

 

Ifarian’s eyes shut tightly and a tired, irritable sigh escapes him. Mathias blinks “Who is that?” Ifarian this time indulges him with an explication, “My devoted shadow.” The girl stumbles to a stop beside them, breathing heavily as she smiles, her heavy bronzed armour shining beautifully in the sun. Molten shades of red and yellow lava course though the veins of her shoulder guards, dripping but creating no mess where it fell. Her pretty face was framed by elegant wisps of chocolate coloured hair that weren’t caught in a delicate and intricate top bun, the remains of her hair falling behind her in a ponytail. On her back was a heavy looking weapon, a massive sword that was dripping fiery orange magma like the rest of her, the shield a punctured plate of steel, also alive with fire and coal. 

 

Mathias was struck by the beauty of the woman, shocked at how uninterested Ifarian was by her presence once he finally turned to face her. She was taller than he was, but a head shorter than the dragon beside him. “Matron.” Ifarian greets without pleasure, a snarl along his mouth. The women before them beams, colouring in a pretty shade of pink, “I thought I lost you! But I heard of a black dragon in Stormwind and I knew it was you!” Ifarian looks rather unimpressed with her and Mathias shifts uncomfortable, his lips rubbing together before he speaks in a low, awkward tone, “Hello...” suddenly the woman notices his presence and looks shocked and embarrassed “Oh! Hello! How rude of me! I am Antigone, matron of the black flight.” She giggles, and it sounds like music- beautiful chimes and soft bells “But you may call me Annie.” Mathias blinks, his head arching in shock, “Another dragon?!” Once more Annie giggles, shaking her head “No no, a simple dragonsworn.” Mathias accepted her explanation, not rightly understanding what a dragonsworn was. 

 

“I hear gossip about the king employing us to find Wrathion!” Annie hums happily, Ifarian crosses his arms, his chest bulked and expression dark “I was employed to find the whelp, not you woman.” Despite his words the attention causes her to smile widely, “But it is my duty to protect all of the black flight, including you my lord.” Ifarian’s face screws up in an angry, sharp and dangerous expression. “You know that I can help you find him.” She adds, as if trying to convince him of her usefulness. Ifarian huffs, a gust of dark smoke wafting in her face, but Annie does not flinch as Mathias assumes she would, only looking pleased- like he had agreed despite not an inch changing in his hateful snarl. 

 

 

“I can find the whelp myself.” Ifarian rebuffs, raising his chin with aggravating pride. Annie props her hands against her thin waist, “Yes! But I know exactly where he is! So there is no need to look!” Her voice was like the glow of light after walking through a long dark tunnel, such joy and innocence, matronly in all its definitions. Though Mathias himself was slightly unnerved by the blackness of her eyes, a swimming void of nothing, like two punctured holes but somehow it did not diminish her beauty. 

 

 

Ifarian looked rather exhausted by her happy disposition and promptly said, “I suspect you will refuse to speak of his location so that I am forced to follow you.” Annie laughs once more, “Oh you make it sound so terrible my lord! Come now- we have a long way to go!” Annie turns her attention to Mathias for a short moment, “Is there anything you need before we leave...?” “Mathias.” He supplies, and Annie grins, “Mathias.” Of course he shakes his head, knowing the less he carried the more efficient he would be, he was capable on his own and hardly needed provisions. 

 

 

There was a tense silence as they walked through Stormwind toward the mage district, Ifarian none too pleased it seemed at following Annie to their destination, but then Mathias could not blame him, in fact not knowing where they were going was bothering him as well. “How exactly do you know each other...?” Mathias dares to ask, desperate to smother the eerie silence between them. Of course Annie is the one the respond, “My lord Osiris is one of the few remaining black dragons after the purge- we met years ago!” Mathias watches Ifarian sparingly, trying to discern anything from his stoney face. “Thanks to Wrathion of course, without him I’d have no idea another black dragon existed- especially not one so old!” Such his nature to pry for information, Mathias continues to poke his questions, only slightly weary of other. “Old?” Ifarian did not appear aged in the slightest, but than to his eyes without the scales or horns the man would have looked like any other high elf among them, such the danger of dragons. 

 

 

“Lord Osiris was Neltharion’s first child, born well before the corruption- well before the world was shaped! Isn’t that right, my lord?!” Annie chirps, though Mathias was slightly uplifted it only served to infuriate Ifarian, an angry and sharp scoff is the only answer they receive. “How did you both escape corruption then?” All other black dragons became twisted by the old gods, all Deathwing’s children were subjected to its taint, all but two it seemed. Annie helpfully supplies the information, a bounce in her step as they round the spiral tower to the portal room “As I said, lord Osiris was born long before it took root in Neltharion-“ there was sharp stiff protest beside them and finally Ifarian speaks, “That is quite enough.” Annie did not seemed shifted by his dark tone, but did not continue her thought, instead she says, “Wrathion will be pleased to see you my lord, it has been quite some time!” 

 

 

This brought no response from the other as they came to the portal mages designated to the Pandaria gateway. Ifarian’s face twists tightly as a glare settles along his brow, so clearly irritated but declining to speak it as he stalks into the portal, leaving Mathias and Annie to scurry after him. There was a moment of disorientation as they come through, Ifarian does not appear affected, but Annie seems a bit lightheaded and wobbly, Mathias himself is no better but it passes quickly. “On mounts it should take only an hour to arrive,” Annie muses, looking at the sky, than panic blemishes her face “My lord that isn’t wise!” Mathias springs to action, confused as he watches the matron grip the others arm, but he looked unchanged, rather black in mood, but what Annie was fretting over seemed invisible to his eye. 

 

“People here would not appreciate your true form, my lord.” Ifarian wretches his arm from her grip and sneers, “I will not be castrated and forced to ride a bird.” Annie looks worried, “My lord it would cause great trouble-!” Ifarian looks furious, his rage silent as he glares viciously. And before their eyes, leathery black wings rip from under his clothes, a whip cracking noise resounds loudly in their ears as the two billowy wings stretch from his shoulder blades. Annie sighs softly in defeat as Ifarian lifts from the ground in a majestic swoop. Annie watches him from the ground, his foul expression easy to discern even from the height. 

 

 

“Come along Mathias, he won’t wait long...” 

 

 

Mathias and Annie shared a Gryphon and Ifarian begrudgingly followed close behind them, Annie sat behind Mathias holding his waist and warmed his skin with the heat from her armour. The ride was smooth and peaceful as she directed him, her voice a gentle breeze when she spoke to him, “What is it about Wrathion that interests your king, Spymaster?” Mathias adjusts his position, licking his lips “Answers mostly, my lady, they were... friends once.” Annie hums, but it is a bit tense, “I do hope you humans mean him no harm. I am charged to protect the remains of this flight.” There was a tense pause, and not the first time did Mathias believed he should not have come along on this journey. 

 

“If you have any intention of harming he or Lord Osiris it would end poorly.” Annie finishes, urging the reins to the right so the Gryphin tilts toward the mountains, beginning its decent to the ground. “If it reassures you my lady... Our king is a kind man and takes no interest in war- certainly not harm.” Annie hums once more, unconvinced of course, but their conversation is cut sharply by the banking wings of the Gryphon, landing gracefully on overgrown grass. 

 

Annie slips from its back and Mathias begins to slide but stops as his eyes catch a shadow along the grass. Looking straight up he watches Ifarian drop to the earth, stabbing it with his landing, his form unharmed as he flicks the ink black wings- but in and instant they vanish from his sight. Mathias’ mouth hangs open at the display and shut so fast his teeth rattle. There was a deep snarl along his face as Annie came to his side, “His residence is there-“ “Yes I know.” Ifarian snaps, unsheathing his daggers and griping them in tight fists, poison dripped from the blade, leaking down there black steel and coating the ground, the blade of grass died in clumps where the vile poison hit. 

 

“Be silent or be still.” Ifarian whispers, fading from sight. Mathias jumps, gathering his blades and hurries to where his eyes could barely see the dragon, thankfully Ifarian was kind enough to show the barest hint of himself to Mathias and Annie. Mathias follows quietly behind, watching the dragons fluid movement, not forgetting just how deadly he was. Mathias for his part was exceptional at what he did, but watching the aged practice made him feel like a child playing at his father’s role. 

 

 

Two guards were at the door, both dressed in black and unaware of the danger before them. In two swift motions Ifarian, without cruelty, slices their throats open to the bone. The blood sprays like a pelting rain, spitting from their necks as Ifarian helps their bodies to the floor. The threadbare rug beneath them becomes soaked with blood, seeping through the cracks into the dirt and making the only sound among them, a drip, drip, drip as it congeals below the porch, forever tainting the spot. Ifarian slinks inside the bare frame, Mathias is careful not to touch the bodies and as he comes to the inside, he sees two more bodies dead and bleeding on the dark brown wood. 

 

 

Wrathion was no where in sight and Mathias lets the shadows slip from him, “Why did you kill them all?! One could have talked!” Ifarian’s gaze instantly snaps to him, and the unsettling inhuman eyes bear into his very soul and shake him. The sliver pin size of his pupil striking pangs of fear in his mortal heart. “They will speak nothing of their master.” He says softly, voice nearly unheard as if it was out of respect for the dead littering the floor. Annie quietly approached behind them, hand gripping the door frame, face troubled “He should have been here.” Ifarian’s face displays a question, one that is not said but answered all the same by Annie, “He would never leave here- something must be wrong.” Ifarian’s weapons sheath onto his hips again and he crosses his arms, leaning now onto the table behind him, ankles crossed. 

 

 

“And what’s that, Matron?” Ifarian humours with a smirk, brow cocked in derision. Annie does not however looked amused and it is as if fear itself was captured in her expression as she utters, “Corruption, my lord.” The smugness begins to slither away from his face and is replaced with uncertainly, his forehead scrunched and eyes squinted, possibly in thought. Mathias frowns and says, “You think he’s been corrupted?” Ifarian scoffs at this, “Not yet, but he will be. The whelp was always too interested in my father’s decent.” Annie shifts on her feet, her plate boots making the wood protest with an eerie creek. Ifarian pushes off the table, “Where do you think he would go, my lord?” Annie asks, puzzled. 

 

Ifarian looks amused, “And I should tell you why?” Distress broke onto her face and she rushed to say, “I have to make sure he is safe my lord!” Ifarian rolls his eyes, but she continues, desperately “I was charged with caring for all whelps of this flight- you know above all else that I cannot forsake that! Please my lord-! Y-You’re the only two left of Neltharion’s line!” Ifarian eyes her, judging her words with great care, as he did with many things Mathias had noticed. There was a moment that Mathias thought he would be cruel as he’s only ever known this dragon to be, but he was surprised as Ifarian’s shoulder sunk in peace and his face grew softer “Karazhan. His path for answers will end with Karazhan.” Ifarian divulges, “Have your king dispatch discrete sentries, he will be days away from arriving there.” Mathias pulls a face, “Would he not journey there right away?” Ifarian shakes his head, as if it was obvious, “He is not half as clever as your boy king made you believe he is. Do as you’d bid mortal, sit there in the shadows for days- I do not care.” 

 

 

Mathias truly debates this, but than another thought came to him. Ifarian as he knew was nearly as old as this world, his mind would have been vastly superior to Wrathion, though the younger dragon was quite clever, Mathias realizes not hardly as clever as his eldest brother. ”Lord Osiris!” Annie calls after him as he walks from the hut, “If you knows where he would be why did you not say so!” She seemed a bit winded, miffed by the sound of her voice. There was a pause, than the swift crack of his wings again, “Simple Matron, I relish when you are wrong.” 

Chapter 161: Volbin dabbles 8

Summary:

Volbin Swiftmoon/Asch Swiftmoon

Oh my! I’m so sorry! I took a really
Long time to update! My bad my friends!

Enjoy!

Chapter Text

 

 

Volbin inhales the brisk air of frost fire. His feet deep in the snow, and his arms full of his new wife. Volbin buries his face into her hair, holding her closely as she shivers from the frozen air. Without delaying much longer Volbin carries her toward their sanctuary, slipping in the door before shoving it closed with his shoulder. Volbin watches her struggle to hold her shoulders straight, the weight across them immense by the two gem incrusted cloaks. Volbin shakes the snow from his shoulders and approaches Asch, “You no longer have to wear those.” He says, surprising her as he pulls them off, as he took them Volbin realized the weight and was shocked that even to him they were not easy to carry. Asch spins around to look at him, unencumbered and joyous. “Come,” He says, chuckling softly as he drops the cloaks, taking her along with him down the halls. 

 

Volbin knows she recognizes the halls they walk, her cheeks colour pink as he leads her to the master bedroom, a room that will finally be shared. It was not modesty, despite its age, the bed could fit more than just them, Volbin threw furs upon furs across its surface, letting wild pelts heat the bed so a fire was not always required, but still he lets Asch wander the room to light one. Volbin glances toward her, letting a poker liven the embers, watching her touch the pillars of wood by the bed, the posts too tall for her to reach the incricate carved leaves and vines. Her face innocent and beautiful, truly a lords daughter. Volbin can see where her father, Regulous shows in her face and form. Her eyes however soft, were just like his. Parts wondered what her mother looked like, if Asch was all of the women or none, Volbin would not ask. 

 

Still, no matter what parent influenced her she was beautiful. 

 

Volbin lifts himself up from the fireplace, sauntering to her side, touching her hip with a gentle hand that makes her jump a little, but quickly compose as their eyes meet. Without words he moves his head slightly lower, capturing her lips as he lets his armour fall into a heap. Asch leans into his embrace, melting into his kiss. Volbin breaks away again, shrugging off most of his remaining armor until he stood bare in only his pants before her. 

 

Volbin glides his hand along her dress, sweeping them across her back until he found the the ribbions of her dress, pulling them free far easier than he would have liked them to be, much less what was beneath her dress. Volbin felt sickness creep into his throat as he notices the small silken shift barely able to cover her, no doubt a disgusting gift from her previous fiancé. Volbin willed it from his mind as he looks at her, pink cheeks and pretty figure, even the reason why she wore wasn’t bothersome enough to find it unattractive. 

 

 

 

"I.." he begins before stopping, knowing there's nothing to say. Volbin places his hand on her shoulder, easing the slip she wore off until it fell with its own weight into a heap on the floor. Volbin takes a step back and a moment, allowing himself to fully explore his new wife's body with his eyes. First the familiar eyes, glowing bright that he has already grown to love looking into. The lips that pout full, that he longs to kiss once more. Her long snowy hair, cascading down her back in sheets of silver. And now the new. Her soft breasts springing forth from her chest, nipples like blooming buds reaching for him. The curve of her ass, barely visible from where he stands in front of her. And her plump thighs, arching up to half conceal her cunt from him

 

Volbin gulps nervously, he has had partners before her, even a wife long ago, but this... "Asch," he starts, choked, "You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen." Asch blushes deeply at this, trying and failing to hide her face as she turned crimson. Volbin swoops her into his arms, picking her up and relishing the feeling of her skin under his fingers. He carries her over to the bed, softly kissing her neck all the while, before falling into the bed with Asch in tow.

 

"I love you here," Volbin says, kissing her on the lips before moving her further into the bed. "To here," he says smiling as he kisses her gently on her foot. "And everywhere," Volbin says moving back up and kissing her neck, "In between." He kisses her shoulder. Asch shudders beneath Volbin's lips as he continues down, gracing his lips against every inch of her chest until they hovered above her breast.

 

Volbin's tongue snakes out, tasting the air as he comes in contact with her skin. Asch's back arches as Volbin traces circles around her nipple with his tongue, lightly flicking it around as it grows erect. Volbin's hand creeps up to cup her other breast, kneading its soft flesh between his fingers as he feels that nipple too grow hard against his hand. "Volbin..." Asch moans softly as he plays with her nipples, "That- that’s..."

 

"This is me," Volbins whispers into her chest as his tongue withdraws, before closing his lips around her nipple, lightly suckling on it as she lets out a loud moan, arching once more. Volbin continues to work her nipple with his mouth as Asch quietly lets soft moans and pants spring from her lips. Volbin dances his tongue across her as he withdraws, looking upon her as she lay on the bed panting. Volbin smiles and kisses her again, just below her breasts, and again on her belly button.

 

Asch's eyes flutter wildly as Volbin's lips land once more. "Oh!" she moans quickly as they touch her groin. Volbin drives his hands between her legs, gently pulling them apart to bare her cunt to him. Asch trembles nervously, even as Volbin looks up to give her a reassuring smile, before bringing his mouth down onto the petals of her cunt. Volbin brushes his lips across her clitoris, sending waves jolting through her body before slipping his tongue inside her, exploring her insides. Asch brings her legs back together around his head, sealing him onto her cunt as he continues to snake his tongue in and out of her.

 

Asch rocks with Volbin still trapped between her legs, moaning uncontrollably as he tongue fucks her, brushing his lips over her cunt as he does so until her whole body goes rigid and Volbin feels something new seeping onto his tongue. Slowly he withdraws it, lapping gently at her cunt as she pants while looking shocked. "Is something wrong?" Volbin questions softly. "This is... isn’t... proper," she quietly replies between pants. "Then you were lied too," Volbin whispers, fully drawing himself off her and the bed until he stood over her.

 

Volbin slowly undoes the fastenings of his pants until they drop, and let his cock spring out. Asch couldn't help but let out a small gasp at the sight. It was the first cock she had ever seen, but, she quietly thinks to herself, she couldn't imagine a better one. It sways, pointing directly towards her as she slowly sits up, before it occurs to her that this will go inside of her. Asch gulps nervously, Volbin takes her hand. "I promise I will be gentle," he says to her as she nods in response.

 

Carefully she lies back in the bed, nestling herself into the furs before spreading her legs to present her cunt, back how it was before his tongue explored it, except now the wetness begun to drip from it. Volbin props himself back onto the bed hanging over her as the head of his cock kisses the lips of her cunt. He carefully positions his cock, before parting her lips with it, and slowly pressing his cock into her cunt. "Ah-!" Volbin hears from Asch as his cock disappears slightly into her, before he meets the resistance and pushes through it. Asch wirthes in pain as Volbin put his hand in hers, "It's alright, it will only happen once."

 

Volbin continues to push inch by inch into her until he meets the inevitable resistance. Volbin then draws it back out before settling into a slow rhythm as she gets used to the feeling. Looking down he sees a small amount of blood on his cock, making her thighs slick with it, until his thoughts were interrupted by Asch. "I..." she swallows as he fucks her, "oh..." Asch colours, squeezing her eyes shut as she squirms. Volbin smiles, accelerating his pace as Asch begins to rock beneath him with the pressure of his hips. Volbin watches Asch's face carefully and noticing the evident pleasure on it, continues to move faster. 

 

Before long Asch's limbs lolled, tensing against his hips, moving with his every motion, and Volbin saw her eyes rolling back as she continued to moan loudly in response to his movements. Volbin shutters softly as he watches her blink, panic as she bares into the bed, cunt clutching his cock in a fluttering vice. Volbin licks her skin, purring softly as she squeezes him, wishing to prolong it, Volbin slows his hip. Asch gasps, noises pouring from her mouth as she grasps his skin, nails gouging the flesh of his back as she thrashes underneath him. 

 

Volbin coos, chuckling softly as he runs his hands over her sides, before pushing them under her and lifting. Asch heaves, wrapping her arms around Volbin as he puts her in his lap. 

 

Asch moans in his ear and it draws a shiver out of Volbin as he squeezes her bottom, pulling her up his cock in a steady motion. “Oh- ah...” she breathes in his ear, Volbin kisses underneath her jaw, nipping the flesh until it marked. 

 

From this angle Volbin can feel the wetness from her thighs seep onto his, making wet sounds as he presses back into her vigorously. Blood smears on his thighs, and at the sight Volbin’s breath hitches, eyes drawing away to look at her face, which is screwed up in pleasure, lip bitten raw from desperately trying to keep quiet and failing. Using his strength Volbin continues to bounce her on his cock with a single hand, taking the other and threading it between their bodies to touch the top of her cunt, rubbing the saliva covered cilt with his fingers. Asch yelps, turning into a moan so delicate that Volbin feels his cock twitch violently inside of her. 

 

“Vol- oh- Volbin-“ her head thrashes, sweaty hands slipping on his back for purchase. Asch’s cunt squeezes him again, gushing wetness down their thighs, nails dragging along his back, before cradling the small of his back as she pants, exhausted. Volbin kisses her ear, licking the shell of it as her chin rests on his shoulder, body sagging. Volbin continues to take pleasure in her, fingers slowly circling her wet clit as she jerks in pleasure, legs tensing weakly.  

 

Volbin dips forward, watching as Asch falls into the furs, her expression tired and dull. Volbin swirls his hips to get her attention, Asch moans weakly, back arching off the bed. Volbin pulls his cock out from her, confusion crosses her face before surprise overtakes her as he flips her onto her belly. 

 

Asch yips as Volbin pulls her up by the hips, helping her legs spread open with his other hand, watching with hunger as her cunt leaks. His cock pokes her cunt, prodding it open slowly and easily. Asch bends into the furs, mewling as his cock fills her out. Volbin exhales sharply, hissing between his teeth as he fucks into her from behind, clutching her hips and pulling her back onto him. 

 

Asch wails, flowers falling down her shoulders as she curves into the pillows. Volbin licks a stripe along her back, kissing her shoulders his cock continues to bury itself between her cunt. Asch cries into the pillow, shuttering as she feels the coil inside of her belly unwind. Volbin pants, finally succumbing, his cock pulses badly as her cunt grips him. Volbin shutters hard as he tips over the edge, cock spurting into her warm cunt. Asch gasps loudly as she feels his warm cum fill her completely, it oozes around his cock, and drips into the bed. Volbin sinks into the bed, laying in his side as Asch squeezes her legs shut, wincing as her back protests after being bent. 

 

Volbin pulls her to him, nuzzling his nose into her hair “that- that was...” Volbin hums, nodding softly in response, knowing what she meant without making her say it. 

 

 

Volbin pulls her right under his chin, and is content to keep her there until he feels ever soft, hesitant kisses pressed to his throat. Asch’s hands found his chest and pressed on his breast as they lay there, their bodies having no space between them. Volbin feels her ankles wrapping around his and bathed in the touches before reacting moments later. 

 

Asch looks at him with impossibly pretty eyes, a very drowsy smile across her lips as Volbin examines her. Using his nose he tips her head back, until he can see the full of her pink throat. His lips descend upon it, planting soft, butterfly like kisses along her flesh. Asch makes a small noise at the back of her throat that Volbin and feel with his mouth. 

 

Volbin sucks her skin, not hard enough to mark but turn a ruddy pink for a moment. Asch’s fingers shakily touch his jaw, playing with his beard and making him rumble in pleasure. Volbin runs his hands over her sweaty skin, firmly grasping the back of her thigh before dragging it over his leg. Asch stiffens as his cock falls between her open thighs, a deep blush on her face as it twitches. 

 

Volbin sighs heavily, eyes drawing closed as his cock presses between her cunt lips, how warm and wet she was before angling his hips so his cock pokes her pink hole. Asch sharply gasps as it presses back inside of her, while Volbin inhales warmly. Volbin can feel his cum deep inside, the way it oozes around his cock and the heat of it makes him shiver violently in pleasure. 

 

“Again?” He bites out, breathless, hoping she would say nothing but yes. Asch bites her lip, the stretch uncomfortable but she would not say no to her new husband since it would be improper of her. So instead she nods against his throat. Volbin is not quick this time, in fact he is very slow. There is barely any movement between them as his hips slowly jut. Asch’s breath hitches as he does so, moaning gently at his careful effort, realizing that he must know the ache between her legs and does not wish to hurt her. 

 

Asch colours red at the thought and buried her nose in his neck, inhaling his sharp, musky scent as he continues to draw his cock into her with utmost care. Asch’s fingers shake in his beard, boldly cupping his jaw to get his attention. Volbin’s head lulls to her very hesitant tugging and his eyes blink open too look at her. Asch swallows, growing nervous as her eyes dart between his eyes and lips. Asch shudders as his cock rolls softly inside, Volbin tilts his head toward her more, groaning softly as he shakes. Asch wets her lips, feeling embarrassed as she tentatively kisses him. 

 

“Mhm-“ Volbin hums appreciatively, hands cradling her gently. Asch moans, breaking the kiss, but Volbin seeks her mouth, every part of them presses as close as they could possibly be. Volbin shudders, arching into her body as he cums suddenly, his breath comes out heavily, hot and wet against her face. Volbin feels her hands in his hair, the soft pull as she desperately holds him. Volbin rumbles, eyes falling closed as her nails lightly roll over his skull. Volbin lulls to sleep by the sound of her heart beating. 

 

Volbin did not wake easily, in fact he was dragged out of his long slumber disoriented and far too warm to want to move, but as he nuzzled into the heat, he felt the shift of something and let his eyes crack open. Before him, laying on her belly was his new wife, her back exposed and skin prickled from the cold, but she didn’t seem to wake from it. Trailing his eyes he can see the slope of her back carrying down to her rounded behind, that was covered by a thick pelt of wolf fur. Volbin leisurely carts his hand toward her, feeling the softness of her skin as he couldn’t help but cup her behind. 

 

It was plump in his hands and Volbin dared to squeeze it lightly. Asch did not react to it at all and Volbin found himself lifting the furs off her, moving towars her with awakened senses. Volbin shakes the sleep from his bones and eases himself over her, hands now cupping her naked backside with interest. Gently as he could, Volbin pulled apart her cheeks, and gazes at her cunt. The first he noticed was how red and raw it looked with abuse, blood dried to her thighs as well as cums stains under her. Her cunts opening flutters around nothing, but Volbin felt his cock stiffen as he stares, it looks sore and sensitive, pride pulled at his mind knowing it was his cock that first opened her this way, his ego becoming a little unmanaged as he shifts closer to her exposed entrance, his cocks head intent to find its place between her pink lips.  

 

 

Volbin sinks his cock into Asch, cradling her backside in his hands as he hisses from the warm, tight feeling enveloping his cock. “Fuck.” He whispers through his teeth, breath hissing from his chest as he slumps over her, legs on either side of her hips and cock slowly pushing in and out of her, hands gripping her rear sharply as little mewls escape Asch. Pants escape his new wife softly, her pretty lips drawn open, her eye lids threatening to open at any moment. Volbin leans down far enough to kiss her exposed shoulder, lovingly peppering her skin with as many kisses as he could while taking his pleasure between her warm thighs. 

 

Volbin nips her skin, watching the throngs of sleep flutter from her eyes as they opened, his hips still keeping her full of him, “Good morning my love,” he whispers, heart full and slightly amused as she blinks and clenches around him. “V-Volbin-!” She sputters, face turning dark red, cunt squeezing him like a vice. Volbin groans, rolling his lips across her skin, nose sliding from her right shoulder to her left, inhaling her scent as he juts his hips minutely. Asch squirms under him, gasping gently as he works his cock in and out of her, the head of him dragging against her slick walls until it reached the very back of her, kissing her womb gently, though the soreness was still present. 

 

Asch stresses her knees together, her thighs straining together, Volbin’s cock twitches violently inside of her, the feeling strange and sharp. Volbin grunts, “Fuck-” his breathless snarl causes a jolt in Asch, “Stay- just like that-“ he praises, his thrusting picks up, pace much faster now. Asch moans into her pillow feeling his hands grip her bottom so harshly she thinks it might bruise, the pleasure stirs in her belly however and without much else but his cock hitting the sensitive spots inside her, Asch feels her finish punch out of her with a chipped gasp. Volbin follows not long after, releasing himself inside of her with a groan, milking his orgasm as long as he could with little thrusts until his cock was spent and soft inside her. 

 

Volbin rolls into his back with a deep sigh, boneless and tired once more, and somehow all he wanted to do was wrap Asch in his arms once more and sleep until the sun faded- and that is exactly what he did. 

Chapter 162: Ifarian dabbles 3

Summary:

Ifarian Darkveil

Hey I’m sorry it’s a bit late! But anyway, enjoy!

Chapter Text

Annie stalks up ornate stairs, weary of all the people chatting aimlessly all around the inn, the sun had set hours ago, but the Matron could not rest as discomfort set in. Annie passes down an empty hallway, toward the end she pauses at the second last door on the left, swaying her hand in front of the knob and listening to the click as it unlocked.

 

 

As she opened the door and stood in the entrance she was shocked at what she found. 

 

Ifarian’s hair was loose, hanging over his shoulder as his claws gouged into the fine slik of the bed, beneath him was a gasping girl, one black of hair and elvish- the kind Ifarian offen used in appearance. The bed shifted with his hips, the soft grunts escaping him drowned by his noisy partner. Her nails were scraping down his skin, catching in his scales and leaving little marks. Ifarian seemed to like the attention, his mouth feverishly claiming her skin with dark marks. 

 

“Lord Osiris!” Annie shrieks, watching him stiffen and mood become black. The girl jerks, head tilting back to see her. Ifarian bears his teeth, “Must you always be so bothersome?!” Annie flinches at the tone of his voice, watching the girl become equally irritated with her presence. “I suppose we’re finished then?” She sighs flippantly, rolling her eyes as Ifarian lifts himself from her embrace. The only response she is granted is a grunt and Annie is forced to watch her roll from his messy bed and collect her sparse clothing. Before she leaves a snobbish look is shot at Annie and she huffs. 

 

 

“You should not be copulating with mortals!” Annie’s voice grows into a squeak as Ifarian, with no modesty, climbs from the bed, bare to her eyes. No shame danced in his eye as he glanced at her, his exposure both impressive and something to behold. His cock hung between his legs, it’s flared, pointed and ribbed head glistening with wetness, the length of it scaled uniquely to the base where no corse hair hid any of his physique. Annie blushed darkly, sputtering as her eyes shot away, having never imagined he would allow that part to be unchanged like the rest of his draconic features. 

 

“Who do you believe you are to tell me anything?” He bites, shaking his hair out of its unkept wildness, expression unchanged as he saunters toward the bar where bottles of alcohol littered its wooden face. Annie cranes her head up and away, “W-Would you p-put something on?!” This causes him to laugh sharply, but there was no actual amusement in the sound of it. “You come into my chamber, shoo away my company and expect me to do as you bid?” Annie groans weakly, “You shouldn’t be keeping company like that!” Annie hears the sound of liquid pouring, “And whose company should I keep? Yours?” Ifarian says flatly and Annie chokes, face a deep shade of red “I am a dragonsworn-!” Ifarian shoots her a unimpressed look, “Yes I know very well what you are.” He says, making no sound as he crosses the room to a pile of clothes along the floor. 

 

“Than as one you know it is my duty to uphold the line of succession- not part take in this... this debauchery!” Ifarian finds her comment genuinely amusing and chuckles, the rich and deep sound shaking her resolve. “You are Lord of the black flight! You shouldn’t be bedding strangers! You should be looking for a mate!” Annie peaks carefully and blinks as she sees his lower half dressed and hands gathering his hair into its usual fox tail, a leather tie caught between his lips. As he finishes tying his hair he says, “I am lord of nothing- less you forget I was banished?” Annie’s face twitches, mouth falling into a frown, “That I am to take no mate and sire no children- or have you forgotten that as well?” Annie shakes her head, stepping inside the room with caution as he drinks the clear liquid, though she couldn’t understand why he did so, mortal alcohol had no affect on his kind, the taste was also rather foul. 

 

 

“You know that is no longer true, you have been forgiven and reinstated as lord of this flight- have you forgotten?!” Annie chirps, watching disbelief and scoff escape him as a sour, pained smile crosses his face, “None of that matters, there are no females of my kind- the whelp made sure none of my race survived.” There was dark bitterness in his voice, anger and resentment lining the snarl of his mouth. Annie shakes her head “But there are others! Red or Bronze-“ “Enough women!” He voice suddenly cuts through her, “I want nothing of children or a mate! Your duty is to the whelps of this flight and I am far past your care- best learn that before I take your precious power from you.” Ifarian steps on inch closer to her, striking fear unknown into her, “Now get out, Matron.”

 

 

Annie sighs, glaring at the floor as the door slams shut behind her, but conviction presses her on. Stormwind’s mage quarter housed a great amount of portals and Annie had only one place in mind as she fixed her plate gloves into place, running there without caring of the noise she made or who she shoved into. Dragonblight. 

 

 

The cold hit her skin as soon as she emerged from the portal, the wind a caress compared to the heat of Stormwind, welcoming in its very nature. “Lady Antigone.” There was a soft voice behind her, Annie turns to it and sees the beautiful face of the dragon queen, Alexstrasza. “My queen,” Annie bows deeply “Have you news of some kind?” Annie straightens and walks among the dragons gathered atop the temple, coming to stand close to her queen. “I do my lady,” Annie nods, watching Alex told her head, “Has Ifarian come to join us?” She hazards to guess, curious and hopeful as always. 

 

Annie swallows, “No my lady he has not.” Despite the news Alex smiles, “One day he will. Please, share why you have come?” Annie fiddles with her gauntlet, “It is about my lord, my lady... the flight is suffering- he denies his place as its lord and will not take the mantle of responsibilities- and will find no mate... and...” she shrinks, full of despair “Though I have looked... none have survived the corruption.” Alex is silent, but her hands reach out in quiet comfort, gathering Annie’s hands within her own, “Come inside with me.” Annie lets the dragon queen lead her into the inner sanctum, being kind to all she passes within its wall. Annie is lead through two floors all connected by a spiral staircase, with no explanation to where they were going. 

 

 

“All of our kind have suffered, Neltharion’s betrayal cut all of us deeply, broke the lines of trust between the flights.” Alex begins as they continue deeper into the temple. Annie listens as they pass, remembering the pain and devastation. She had not been there to see him fall, the corruption had reached her and she desperately clung to her mind, fending off the voices until the moment something sharp struck her and she fell unconscious. “Ifarian as you know, was Neltharion’s first child, he saw his father has the man he should have always been.” Alex looked troubled as they come to another hallway, turning left into a generously decorated one. “The deepest trouble he had battled was striking down his own father.” Annie pauses, making Alex stop with her. “He what?!” A solemn nod, “Ifarian silenced his father’s madness, saw to the end of his life.” Alex pats her hand, pulling her along “Neltharion held the greatest love for Ifarian, even to the end he protected his favoured child from the reach of the old gods- even in his search for power he did not seek the corruption of his son.” Annie soaks in the information with shock, disbelief- she had thought she knew more of her lord, but it appeared she had only scratched the surface. 

 

“Ah- here we are.” Annie blinks back into the present, looking curiously around at the lavish room before her, it appeared to be a grand bedroom of some kind. “My love!” Alex calls, and Annie glances around until she sees a door open behind the bed, revealing another women, one of equal beauty to the queen. “Antigone, this is my daughter, Aschstraza.” The woman before them held the same height as her mother, the same gentle face of an elf, but coloured pale, her horns so alike her mother's except hers curved back instead of out. Aschstraza wore a silk sheer robe that exposed the short night dress underneath it. High elvish ear stood tall and swiveled to the sound of her mother, molten gold eyes sprung to life, not at all frightening like Ifarian’s, but just as strange. 

 

 

Her hair hung loosely down her back, parted in the middle of her head and white as the snow around the temple. “Hello mother, hello lady Antigone.” Aschstraza smiles, Annie smiles at her, but then it faulters “However nice this is... what is the point, my queen?” Alex laughs softly, “The answer to what you sought for. My daughter will prove a wonderful mate to Ifarian.” Aschstraza perks in surprise, but before she can speak Annie interrupts “What- you're pawning your daughter off?!” Alex’s brows draw up, “How crass. Of course not my dear. My daughter is a princess, she will meet Ifarian and she will not be... pawned off as you say.” Annie blinks, recoiling slightly to observe the two, Alex smiles gently, “If there is no interest than she will return home of course.” 

 

 

Annie watches them for a long moment, wondering about the reaction she may receive from Lord Osiris as Alex’s daughter gathers herself together for the journey. “Shall we be off?” Aschstraza says, drawing Annie from her thoughts, “Oh- yes I... of course...” 

Chapter 163: Volbin au dabbles 7

Summary:

Volbin Swiftmoon/Asch Swiftmoon

I know it’s been a few days! My bad!
Enjoy!

Chapter Text

Asch throughout the day couldn’t stop touching her lips, the tingle still present from being kissed raw. Asch’s face heated up each time she remebered how forceful and possessive his kisses were. Asch barely paid attention to what the house manager was telling her, until the door opened to revel the weapons master.

 

Asch blinks her expression away, watching his face become foul as he clutched a wrapped box in his hands, a barely contained look of displeasure came across his face as Asch net his eyes. “My lady,” he says, bowing stiffly “My lord presents you with a gift-“ he places it upon the table beside her, pressing it closer until it slides in front of her “-and my apology, you are my lady and I should not forget this.” His voice was tight, forced and clearly he did not mean what he said. 

 

 

Still, despite being his lady, Asch does not feel so important compared to him and does not say anything in response about the insincerity and accepts the gift, carefully undoing the wrapping. Inside was a white box, as she lifts the cover Asch is stunned by the contents. Inside was a folded purple dress, one that caught the light and shimmered, it was simple looking but very beautiful. Asch gently pulls it out and admired the softness of it and smiles, the gesture was kind, but her husband had clearly not gotten this himself. 

 

“My lord has invited Lord Melleina and his wife to dinner, my lady. My lord wishes you wear this and attend.” Asch feels her stomach drop at the mention of Lord Melleina, clearly being invited because of what happened. Asch should have told her husband what had happened, but it was so distasteful that the mere thought caused her embarrassment. How was she suppose to have dinner with the lord and his wife after what happened? 

 

“Thank you...” she says, smiling nervously “is my husband busy?” The weapon master appears annoyed at the question, his face twitching as if to hold something back “yes my lady, but I expect the exception will be made for you.” Asch felt stuck by the pointedness of his words and shrunk, “I... will not bother him...” the weapon master nods “yes my lady, as you wish.” Asch did not want to bother him while he was working any more, but she was afraid of what would happen now if she did not tell him the truth, Volbin would surely be furious with her for costing him business. 

 

“Is there anything else I may acquire for you?” The weapon master says, eyes nearly glaring at her, Asch shakes her head, “no, tell my husband I will attend dinner tonight.” The weapon master does not bow as he leaves and Asch begins to worry her hands into her dress, staring at the gift before her, first she would have to find an acceptable way to thank him for this, as secondly she would have to decide what to wear with it. Of course the necklace he gave her would be apart of it, but a small part of her, an vain part, must look better than lady Melleina. Mother always looked more beautiful than any of her guests and always said it was expected of Asch to do so as well.

 

Asch sighs softly, “I suppose I should ready myself...” 

 

Volbin stares at himself in the mirror, rubbing his wet hands into his skin, wiping off the dirt covering his cheeks. From the bathroom he can hear the rustling of his wife’s maids and their fussing. He could hear the cooing over Asch, mesmerized by her. Volbin throws the towel aside “Asch?” He calls, walking out to their bedroom, watching as the maids scurry out of the room. “M-My lord?” Asch was wearing the dress his weapons master had purchased on his behalf, her hands holding the bell from her legs as she walked out, Volbin is struck for a moment and cannot speak. The necklace rested against her collarbone and glinted in the low light, matching the shade of purple elegantly. 

 

“You look beautiful.” He mutters, slightly in awe. Asch blinks sheepishly, a deep blush covering her cheeks, “t-thank y-you m-my lord...” she whispers, eyes staring at the floor. Volbin begin to walk toward her, his breath caught in his chest, but before he could reach, there was a firm knock at their door. Volbin snaps his gaze toward it, “what?” He bites, with far more venom then he realized “lord and lady Melleina have arrived, my lord.” Volbin huffs softly, “yes alright.” Volbin nearly jerks as he feels two hands grip his arm, a little stunned to see his timid wife at his side. Asch’s face is obscured from his view, but he can see the barest hint of blush. 

 

 

Lord Melleina was standing with his wife at the top of the stairs, looking with muted interest at the decoration there. Volbin did not like the man, he was intelligent concerning business, but flaunted his wealth with extravagant things. His clothes were of the finest silk and his fingers were usually covered in precious metals and gems, he went into business with Volbin because he considered his craft more elegant than the rest. Volbin hardly complained, he paid well for the work and his orders were unusually large, he knew little of what the lord Melleina did with them, besides procure them for kingdoms. 

 

 

“Lord Swiftmoon,” he calls in greeting upon seeing them, a tense smile across his face. Volbin does not bother to smile back, or speak his greetings, rather a small and curt nod as he steps from the dining room. Lord Melleina was shorter than Volbin by a good foot and a half, his shoulders neither wider or bulkier, his chest was narrow and his hands were brittle looking, but his beard was far longer, laced with ribbons and jewels a s well as his hair. Both were a deeper green, a shade that looked much like a wet leaf, 

 

“Lady Swiftmoon,” he regards, sounding far less pleasant. Asch curtseys gently, “m-my lord...” lady Melleina appeared sour, staring at Asch with vile eyes. “You’ve canceled your orders,” Volbin says, “why?” Volbin never drew things out, having not time for it or patients. “That is a question for your wife, my lord. She insulted my wife.” Volbin raises a brow, diffing his gaze toward Asch, who did not meet anyone’s “Asch?” Volbin says, watching her lips press into a thin line. “I... I didn’t-“ she says, in a bit of a panic, face colouring in embarrassment, “I- your... your wife- s-she was a-asking things- things that she s-she shouldn’t h-have-“ Volbin watches lady Melleina pale, “and that would be? Lord Melleina asks in a huff, clearing not believing her. Volbin can feel his wife’s fingers kneading into his arm, her nerves getting the better of her. 

 

“I-Inappropriate t-things a-about my... my husband-“ at this Volbin’s brow raises, now curious as he watches her face completely full with a dark blush “how dare you!” Lord Melleina hisses, Volbin suddenly glares “enough!” He snarls, “she’s lying!” Volbin’s jaw clinches “my wife does not lie.” Lord Melleina scoffs, a small laugh escaping him “all women lie as easily as they breathe.” At his words Volbin sighs, “and your wife then?” Lord Melleina blinks, stunned, his face pinched with anger “Nella- this is not true is it?!” Lady Melleina’s mouth opens, but no words escape her. There was pure dread upon lord Melleina’s face “n-no it’s- she lying!” But the words did not affect her husband in the slightest, Lord Melleina removes himself from his wife’s grip and Volbin watches him, with little interest as he storms off, his wife chasing behind him in a panic.

 

“Dinner is ready, my lord.” Volbin hums, turning them both and waking to their seats, Asch all the while confused and showing it upon her face. “It was never my intention of getting his business back,” Volbin shares, helping her into the seat next to his before sitting himself. “You would never be that foolish.” Asch looks up at him, the usual doe soft eyes and full lips nearly causing a jolt in his chest. Something so innocent couldn’t do wrong. 

 

 

Volbin and Asch seat themselves and are quickly given a dinner of steaks, potatoes and assorted greens. Asch picks delicately at her food as her husband is less so elegant about it, but it does not brother her, in fact it was good to see him eat so fully. It had been a long while since she saw him truly eat anything. “Your parents are coming to visit next month,” Volbin says after drinking his wine, the cup makes a soft sound as he places it back beside his plate, leaning away from his food. There was little left on the golden plate, save a ruined potato and little bits of meat still askew atop its messy face. 

 

 

Asch nods, feeling rather sickly as the thought of her mother once more coming to berate her turned the food in her belly to stone. “Oh.” She mutters in response, having little else to say about it, Volbin lulls his head to look at her, his hair hanging handsomely, brushing his shoulder, his eyes bear into her, assessing something, watching her and finally, humming in distaste. 

 

“Has your father ever expressed interest in my work before this?” Asch listens to his question, a genuine look of interest upon his face as he stares at her. 

 

Asch licks her lips, placing her hands on the table, stressing the wood with tension “some y-yes...” Volbin appears intrigued and Asch continues “n-not yours b-but s-silk s-shops. S-smaller p-places.” Asch says, he hums, his fingers rubbing his beard in thoughtful circles.

 

“And your mother. Did she ever express interest in your marriage to me?” Asch is struck by the question, a fact she shows in her face, Volbin smiles softly, awaiting her answer with measured patients. 

 

“She... she n-never s-spoke o-of any m-matches...” Asch sputters, embarrassed, in fact, mother never spoke of prospective matches with her ever. She only expressed interest in her brothers and many women they might marry. They had noble wives and women of equal standing, none of them improper and the most Asch has seen of them was during small dinners and Asch always left feeling horrible with herself. 

 

 

In fact the only match spoken of was when her father returned home the day he spoke to Volbin and said she was arranged to marry him soon after. “And your brothers? Speak to me of them.” Asch bites her lip, worrying it before she speaks “I-I h-have... n-not met- m-my e-eldest b-brother, Dyon-“ she says, but than Volbin says, “you haven’t?” Asch shakes her head, “n-no, h-he is f-far o-older a-and f-father w-wished f-for him t-to h-have no di-distractions. I-I h-have a-also th-three o-other b-brothers, bu-but...” Asch inhales, “I-I have... o-only met- met... Azor-“ Volbin seems shocked by this, Asch smiles sparingly, but then feels her cheeks burn and her excitement grow “Our... c-children w-will g-grow t-together.” Volbin looks intrigued at her, a lopsidedly smirks, “I suppose they will.” Asch cannot help the large smile that comes to her face, the happy laugh that escapes her mouth. 

 

Volbin lifts himself from his chair and extends his hand, chuckling softly as she takes his hand within hers. Asch lets Volbin take her to their room, and helps him with her dress by pulling her hair from the laces so he can undo them and holding the front of her dress still so it does not sag away from his hands. Asch lets her dress fall once his hands have finished their work, “on the bed,” he whispers into her ear, letting Asch scamper toward the mound of their bed. Volbin follows quickly after her to the middle of the bed, lifting her hips up, Asch gasps slightly as his cock sheathes inside her cunt. Asch bows her back, breathing through the stretch and pain as he thrusts at a pace far quicker than she can handle. Though the excitement she felt over the idea of children made the pain lessen as Volbin bent her into the bed and grips her skin in his hands. 

 

 

Asch feels herself being punched into the bed by his hips, the guttural grunts heard too closely to her ear made a blush erupt along her cheeks as his hands slide up her belly, it was almost tender as she felt his finish. The sound of his groan reaching into her very core and making Asch whimper as he rolls from her to his side. Asch fidgets first a moment, feeling uncomfortable, but as she attempted to settle herself Volbin’s hand suddenly wraps around her and pulls her flush to his chest. 

 

 

Asch blinks, confused as he pulls the furs over their bodies, feeling stiff in his embrace as Volbin settles behind her, nose pressed just behind her ear. Volbin oddly coaxes her hand into his, threading their fingers together. Asch is a bit breathlessly because of the gesture and feels her heart hammer wildly in her chest, face dusting with pink blush. “I am discussing a contract with a client, you will accompany me.” Volbin mutters, Asch inhales sharply, “y-yes o-of c-course!” She nearly squeaks, excited as her husband grunts and finally settles to sleep behind her, though she is excited, she too follows him into sleep. 

Chapter 164: Illidan Omegaverse dabbles 8

Summary:

Illidan Stormrage/ Asch Stormrage

Happy blizzcon everyone! I have some exciting things coming pertaining to the story given out! But for now I wanted to give you guys this!

I’m so excited going forward and see Warcraft unveil more about their story! I’m very excited to use the new story to continue my writing! <3

Chapter Text

Asch did not like the colour of the sky in Shadowmoon, it was dark and festering; dark and evil to its core. For weeks it had been the sky she fell asleep under, the sky she now lived under. The temple was no better, it’s walls were black and grim, it’s hallways wide and ghostly. Asch could not feel at ease in any part of this place though she tried. Illidan had brought her to this place, the first thing inside was a demon, unconscious and bleeding rivers of foul smelling, burning liquid. Asch was greatly frightened here, it was not a home she had wanted, not a place she could endure. 

 

 

Asch’s footsteps echoed toward the roof as she scurried up the steps, her nerves getting the best of her as she kept climbing toward the terrace. Asch grew winded as she reached the last, sweating and now uncomfortable. Shadowmoon was neither overly hot or cold, but nearly exclusively humid. The air felt like taint to the lungs and fog infested the ground in most unnatural ways. Asch wipes her brow and feels her sleeve grow heavy from it and holds her disgust as she presses on, intent on finding Illidan. 

 

 

Illidan was where he was always, crouched by the short stone wall, head diligently forward, overlooking the courtyard filled with training hunters, Illidari, he called them, but Asch only knew them as one simple thing; terrifying. Men and women all alike in mind and motive, pledged to serve their lord in his war againt the legion. Asch was not at odds with the idea, but feared them all so greatly that she avoided them often as allowed. Illidan’s head tilts so subtlety that if she had not been looking she would have thought he ignored her arrival altogether. Illidan was not known to do such, he had all the time she asked of him, he was ever doting. 

 

 

Asch comes to his side and it is not lost on her that he does not speak, but she felt the blanket of his wing behind her, guarding her or at least giving her a sense of his affection, which one it is, is unknown to her, but it is not bothersome, he was lost in thought as his eyes are critical to those below him and Asch does not wish to pull his concentration for a mere moment of his time. Shadowmoon seemed to never change, and time is all they had and so she is not greedy. Illidan’s breath is the only thing calming among them, the steady rise and fall of his chest, the softest sounds reaching her ears; it was exactly what she came up here for. 

 

Asch was given many opportunities too look upon his figure, and does so at length each time, some may find her strange, but he forever and always had been handsome. Even with the sharp and dangerous new features she still finds herself getting used too. Asch glance sideways to his arm, noticing the details of the scales and almost leather like skin, the runes that looked to be carved into his flesh with fel taint, looking as if they would bleed like any other open and sunken wound. Asch often felt them with her fingers in absent moments, they were no wounds and no matter how many times she touched them, nothing stained her fingers or leaked from its pattern. 

 

Asch found often she desired him equally, if not more now as he was. There was security in his physique, power so visible even the blind could understand it. If she was crass- and she certainly was not, she would call it arousing, the imposing figure he cut doing absolutely anything, even now as he sits, doing simply nothing he was sexually magnetic. Asch felt secure and safe when he was close, at peace like no other when he stood over her like a dark guardian, like a warning to all those among them. 

 

Asch colours at the mere idea of him bending her over the stone, caging her on all sides with just his being- the shame of her thought quickly caught up to her and quiet embarrassment rattled in its cage as she fidgets, hoping it would go unnoticed, but of course it did not. Illidan’s horns sway in her direction, another emotion wormed it’s way to her, guilt. Asch should have left him to his work, being clearly busy with something, now his attention was divided, or perhaps shifted all into her, making Asch feel every worse. Though this time instead of his wing, it is his arm that comes around her back, hand pressing both with and without urgency. Illidan’s brow is drawn in question, a curious concern along his handsome face as he no doubt smelt the emotional stress full faced.

 

Asch without words lets herself be guided close to his chest, only reacting when her legs pressed into his own. Asch pulls her dress from her legs, allowing her to move between his. Illidan follows her movement with his head, Asch offers him a gentle smile, cupping his face in her hands. Asch leans toward his face, planting soft kisses across his face with utter care. Illidan rumbles gently, soaking in her affections. Illidan leans his head further back, neck stretched and exposing his throat, Asch shutters at the display, Alpha’s rarely expose their necks to anyone, it is a show of vulnerability, of trust. Asch does not bring attention to it, instead she uses the angle to deeply kiss him. Illidan is content to allow her the control with a simple rumble, denoting his power over her quietly, but not repressing her. 

 

Asch never thought she may have such freedom with her mate, but Illidan was tolerate of all her wishes. Father told her many a time that it was her duty to please her master and mate, to not misbehave and simply do as her Alpha bid; but Illidan was not so constricting, rarely ever did he tell her what to do. That very fact made Asch grateful she had never found another, so grateful of the day Illidan imprinted and sealed their fate. Asch wished to climb into his lap, only debating a moment before she’s rucking up the bottom of her gown so that her leg may slide easily over the shelf of his leg. Illidan purrs as she slips over him, hand greedily pawing her back as she wraps her legs around his tapered, firm waist. 

 

With the new found position Illidan easily takes over their kiss, head tilted downward as his tongue ventures it’s way into her mouth. Asch became overheated at the fact she might have her wish and be bent upon the stone, his powerful hands keeping her moulded to the cold cobble, until there is a gnarled sound of a throat being cleared. 

 

Illidan pauses his thorough debauchery and angles his sight over his shoulder, a very foul and dark expression. Asch licks her lips, colouring quite embarrassed as she is sure whoever has found their way here can easily see her spread open in his lap and ankles locked. “My lord Illidan,” it was a demon hunter, one Asch could not see clearly because of Illidan’s form, but she knew it was one of his more trusted followers. 

 

“Prince Kael’thas wishes for your audience to discuss plans.” He says, and Illidan snarls sharply, offended and irritated, “He commands nothing of me.” Asch shivers at his deep voice, her cunt throbbing between her legs. “You may tell the prince Kael’thas that I will call upon his presence when his master deems him necessary.” Illidan hisses, dismissing the messenger without another word. Instead his attention returns fully to Asch, his nose keen as it sniffs the air, detecting something she had missed. Illidan grunts as Asch returns to kissing him, now suddenly overly warm. 

 

Illidan pries her gently from his skin, pulling her in his arms instead and Asch is too dizzy and hit to realize much else besides the throat close to her mouth, and sucks the skin there greedily. Illidan’s hands squeeze her, rumbling a warning. Asch’s eyes were not so wasted yet and over her mates broad shoulder does she finally see the demon hunter, and his expression is dark and edged. Asch blinks, the sudden realization that he was glaring at her, the anger directed to her. Asch jerks her eyes away, fear consuming her as his gaze does not taper from her mind, what had she done to raise such ire? Asch worries the thought into her head, but becomes distracted once more as the sound of a heavy door is shut clear and locked firmly. 

 

Asch mewls once their alone, the scent of something more safe and inviting hitting her nose rather the putrid stench of fel. Illidan purrs in response, but Asch is in no mind for this and whines in frustration, pawing at his shoulders impatiently “Alpha-!” Asch’s voice grew in pitch and far more whiny than she ever remembered being, demanding but with no real pull to it. Illidan for his part is unaffected and does his proper diligence, placing her on the bed to only have her try and reach for him again, to which he growls in warning, “Be still Omega.” There was bite, deep resonating cadence that made slick gush from her cunt. 

 

Asch does not bother to hide the huffy noises of displeasure as Illidan leaves her on the bed, too offended by the fact he was not here, if her mind was still with her Asch would have known he was gathering things for her heat, but it was not and neither was the Alpha. Asch did not watch where he went, but did not care as she perked with an idea. Without caring for her dress she throws it from her shoulders, letting the sodden dress crumple across the floor. Asch whimpers as her thighs are exposed and too sensitive for the fabrics around her. Asch lifts herself from the bed, deft fingers swiping up the wetness costing her thighs. 

 

 

There was a dark spot beneath her, a ruined silken sheet that Asch pays little attention now as she disobeys her Alpha and climbs from the massive bed, legs clumsy as a newborn fawns. Asch sniffs the place where Illidan once was, his scent strongest at the door, though as she tried to open it there was no give and Asch wails in frustration as her thighs squeeze shut, cunt aching to be stuffed full of her missing Alpha. Asch mewls, attempting to get his attention, but it was clear he was not here any longer and finally she relents. Lost and not interested in her bed, Asch wanders into their bath. 

 

The space was warm always, the floor heated by fires below and oddly less ugly than the rest of this place. Asch fumbles with the taps to their bath, but is too far gone to turn them properly. The Omega bears her teeth, hardly threatening, but furious all the same, before she gives up, too drunk from her heat now to do anything but feel the pain between her thighs. Asch sinks to the floor, knees under her as she tries to mewl for her Alpha, distressed now. Her cheeks were dark and flushed, her chest heaving as her hand holds her up, the other buried between her cunt lips, desperate to substitute her Alpha. 

 

 

Asch moans brokenly, a mix of anguish and small relief, too caught in her doings to realize she was finally not alone. The sudden presence behind her caused her to stiffen and jerk in shock as she felt warm flesh. “I commanded you be still, had I not Omega?” His voice was the first indication, than his scent the next, Illidan smelt like a wet forest long before his corruption, but now it was painted over with rancid sulphur- but the nuance was not unbecoming, he was her mate and Asch did not turn from the scent; for he smelt of desire and safety. 

 

Asch’s only response to his comment is a weak moan full of pain and longing, her fingers still working inside her, making her wetness leak along the back of her hand and drip onto the floor. Illidan purrs so deeply that it strikes a cord within her, and Asch can no longer take the emptiness. Wrenching her hand from her cunt, Asch uses it to braces herself and slopes forward, presenting herself in the most basic and alluring way an Omega can to an Alpha. Her cheek pressed into the warm stone beneath them, her legs wide spread and her cunt open and exposed to his seeking eyes in a most vulnerable display of submission. 

 

Asch juts her hips as a deep rumble escapes Illidan, and his finger teasingly swipes along her slit, fraying her nerves before his rough hand gropes her behind. Asch chokes out a sound as his curled finger pressed like a weight against her opening, pushing gently. Asch cries out as he toys with her, tears falling out of her eyes and over the bridge of her nose onto the floor, she thinks for a moment he will be cruel, but than the blunt head of his impressive cock replaces his finger. There is no delay this time, Illidan now overtaken by his own bout of lust to even try and deny her anything. Asch moans into the floor, legs sagging from their position as she melts, Illidan keeps her up steadily, cupping her thighs in his large hands and he leans over her. 

 

Illidan wantonly mounts her, growls sharp and beastly, letting her have his cock the way she deserves, fast, and hard, and hot. They were equal in their decent l, her heat now bloomed, causing a rut to manifest not moments after their chambers sealed shut. Asch moans into the stone beneath her cheek, unable to feel embarrassed by the echo of her own voice like she normally would. Their chambers were among the most private, secluded and of them all, most renovated. Illidan did not allow Asch to suffer anything substandard, for she was his lady and all beneath him, was beneath her. 

 

Though it did not abstain her from shame, Asch knew anything could be heard through the gaps in the stone and since their first night in the dank temple, hid her noises in the hard shoulder of her mate. Illidan thought it was strange behaviour of course, she has always liked to be very close to him when intimate, keeping their skin flush in contact, but it was new of her to do this. When asked Asch embarrassedly told him she did not want his Illidari or any allies to hear and think of her as a whore. Illidan dismisses such a thing, but did not stop her from hiding her noises away in his embrace. 

 

Now in their state, Asch could hardly care of decency, only the knot hitting her opening with each of her mates powerful thrusts. Illidan himself was very quiet, only a few small growls escaping his chest as he looms over her, his wings jerked absently, making the loudest noise besides Asch’s pleasures moans. Illidan’s palms drag up her heated skin, touching, claiming where they went with a simple drag of his fingers. Asch cries out, entranced by everything he gave her, Asch claws at the floor, her nails making a sick scrapping sound that even her mind- so addled that’s it was- could not handle it and she curled her hands into fists, cringing at the sound until Illidan’s wandering hands lifted her from the ribs to slot her right against his chest.  

 

Asch is delighted however surprised she was, Illidan has his hands cupping her breasts, toying with her as he know she likes and Asch lets her shoulder blades dig into his chest, the gouges of his markings scrape across her, reminding her exactly what his capabilities were and forcing her face red with more coherence than she would have liked now. Asch knew one thing from the day he came back to her after all the soldiers had left and she alone sat, she knew that those rune markings, those tattoos that took up his chest, his thighs- his back and his arms were the second most attractive thing about him, for it was the rest of him that was first. Asch could not fathom why she liked them, the tortured beauty, the meaning of it all, some said that marked the first of his betrayals, but Asch knew better. 

 

In times of quiet she would touch them, lightly roll her fingers across his forearm, or chest- any part she could reach really, and just admire them. Asch liked it most when he was sleeping because he would fidget and sigh like a saber cat, sometimes her affection would turn amorous and she would awaken him with soft but instant kisses as she found her rightful place on his hips, allowing no place to be safe from her seeking lips. Illidan would stir in the most pleasant way, his hands finding her hips and stilling her wiggling, often his face becoming smug. He would make a little sly comment, or an observation that would make Asch hot between her thighs and only than he would open his eyes and entrap her with his gaze. 

 

Asch blinks away her vision as one of Illidan's hands guides through her hair, letting the strands pull through his fingers and fall back into place over her arm, “Illidan...” she whispers, overcome as his cock thrusts up into her wet cunt, fast and deliberate. Asch lets her head fall back against his shoulder, looking up at him and finding his gaze already locked with hers. “Asch,” he murmurs, the room now silent save the wet slap of their hurried coupling. Asch reaches for him, tenderly touching his jaw as Illidan’s nose twitches and his whole body tenses like a taught bow. 

 

 

Asch wails as his knot is shoved into her, the empty feeling ebbing away as his knot grows large inside of her, the warmth of his cum causing electric tingles through her. Illidan is a groaning, hissing mess of an Alpha, clutching her close as he can, keeping his face buried in the scar he made upon her throat, riding out his pleasure by rolling his hips and chasing the throngs of his orgasm to last out the rhythm of her cunt squeezing him. 

 

Illidan’s hands journey to clutch her hip bones, holding her still as he shutters in another finish, Asch coos in delight, letting him gather himself. Asch shutters when his lips press firmly onto the mark, his voice so close she can feel it in her chest, “Why did you leave our nest?” He was not so angry with her, though he did seem mildly irritated, perked in defence because of their vulnerable position. Understandably, Alpha’s could no protect themselves or mates from danger as they tied, and higher the level the more irritable they were. 

 

Asch is distracted by another warm gush inside of her “I-I don’t k-know-“ Asch mutters, unable to fully remember why she came to their bath. Illidan rumbles and the sound makes Asch jelly in his hands, “Insatiable,” he says smugly, but gives Asch the attention she wants, with simply two fingers Illidan strokes her rosy bud, the wetness easing his job and making Asch a complete mess of moans and grinding. It supplies pleasure to Illidan, Asch grinding his knot inside of her while he makes shallow thrusts. 

 

Asch sighs in her rising pleasure, “I- I want honey- honey bread.” She moans, clutching his forearm as his fingers work her “A-And I... I w-want t-tea-oh- oh Illidan...” her finish is soft, like a wave lapping at dry sand, while Illidan exhales deeply against her neck. “If you had listened, Omega,” he says pointedly, but not without humour, “Exactly that is by our bedside.” Asch moans, a mixture of a whine and petulance, but it has Illidan chuckling softly. Illidan adjusts them without moving too much, easing off his knees and crossing them in a better position, Asch delights in the protection of his wings encasing then and clenches around his knot on purpose. Illidan however gruffly exhales, “Be still.” Asch has never listened to him before, and continues to not. Asch pulls his hands to her soft, perky breasts, arching her back in a scandalous way. “P-Please more Illidan-“ she pants, enticing his cock to empty once more inside of her, forcing a chipped groan from his lips. Asch knew they would stay like this for some time yet, but she could not lie and say it was not utterly pleasurable to feel herself fill with him, or when it leaked from his tie and down his balls. Asch liked how beastly he became, how aggravated, overly protective and cautious- how tender and careful and everything that made him hers. 

 

Asch likes how he bites her shoulder, a bit irritated at her for disobeying him, but too buzzed with pleasure to care and instead nuzzles her skin as he gathers her closely. Asch gasps sharply when his hand comes over her cunt, fingers parting in half as he slid them around their tie. Illidan hums as he rubs her puffy wet lips, it makes her writhe. Asch shivers as his fingers slide back and forth against her, inherently not arousing, but in accommodating his bulging knot her all parts of her cunt became so sensitive. 

 

 

Days go by just like that, the two entangled and enjoying each other without shame. Illidan only leaving to get food and water. It felt as though the days would never end, but they did and the moment it happened Asch remembered things she didn’t want to in very fine detail. 

 

Asch laid among the silk, hands curled with Illidan’s, staring at the ceiling, but instead of seeing the dark stone, she saw those eyes from days past- those green fire and dark eyes. The demon hunter that held no love for his lady. 

 

Illidan draws her from thought by a kiss planted on her forehead “I love you Asch,” he says, making Asch’s heart flutter sweetly “I love you Illidan.”

 

Chapter 165: Cydrith dabbles 1

Summary:

Original male nightelf/original female night elf

 

I’m so sorry it took so long! Thank you so much for 400 kudos on this story! It was so wonderful to see that! I love writing this and knowing you guys like reading it makes my whole week! (Also I might change the names in this one so, It might be confusing if I do! And I’m so sorry about that!)

So enjoy!

Chapter Text

 

 

 

The rush of terror as Asch stumbled from the portal, coughing up smoke. Her hands scrape the damp boards of the Stormwind dock. The salt air was a blessing to her fogged lungs, it felt like with each cough was expelling soot from her chest. So many Kaldorei littered the docks, some crying, some furious.

 

And some dead. 

 

People were still falling from the portals, escaping the carnage of the burning tree,  disoriented, upset and mourning. Asch lifts herself from the floor, watching the direction of survivors and following, picking up her singed dress and going towards the blue dressed tables. There were soldiers who were dressed in the colours of Darnassaus, the colours of her people in the line along with the rest, no doubt for placement. Asch comes to stand behind a couple, a wife sobbing into her husbands shoulder as they wait, their faces covered in ash and pink with barely developed burns. Asch was lucky to escape with only few bad burns, marks she would have forever. One along her cheek, that was fresh and raw. When her hair brushed along her cheek it stung and brought tears to her vision. Another terrible burn was across her wrist, a hot piece of metal touched her and melted skin from bone, blood crusted over the wound, it throbbed terribly, but she was not so soft that it wasn’t unmanageable. Asch looks across the scape of the land, where the stairs met stone, ships swaying on the ocean, men carrying large sacks of grain. The bustling of the capital made Asch feel more alone than she ever had been before in her small home. Asch would have barely noticed that it was turn if not for the kind touch upon her shoulder from behind her. 

 

As she shook from her misery, swallowing as she approached the busy man sitting, his hand speeding across parchment, “Name?” He asks, moustache moving with is mouth, “Asch Dawnbow,” she mutters, watching him scribbled her name among the hundreds of others, “Family still missing?” Asch knew why he would ask such a question, “None,” she says, masking her sadness with a smile. Asch has no missing family, no family to even speak of for years, though he did not ask to be cruel it felt unfair, but she shrugged it off and waited for his next question. “Skill?” There was a dash beside her name, “Warrior,” the question felt like the poison on the top of the knife the last question stabbed her with. “Trade?” Asch rubs her fingers together, shaking her head “None.” The man looks up at her for a moment, assessing something she thinks, but then he gave her the kindest smile she had seen in a long time. “If you follow the path it will lead you toward the embassy and fields, there will be housing for you and hot food.” Asch could feel pangs electrifying her finger tips, unbelieving that the kindness was so common, without price or favour. 

 

 

Asch smiles because she can do nothing else with her face and hurries now, not wishing to hold the line. The grass felt wonderful to her burnt feet, the smell of life returning to the world as she carried her dress in her hands to unburdened her legs, looking all around at those who were already here, making the best of the situation. Some druids were creating food from the crops, raising to life corn and carrots, pumpkins and wheat. There were wagons full and humans were counting and carrying them to the inner working of the capital. Some others were beginning fires, collecting fallen branches and kindle from dead leaves. 

 

There was no one she recognized, but someone approached her anyway, looking as happy as any one of her kind could “Hello miss,” she says, ears perked from all the noise, she too much not be use to the sounds of a city. “Hello,” Asch says back politely, wondering exactly what this woman would ask her, “Are you injured?” Asch bites her lip, possibly being very telling already, though she was in pain, it was not so pressing, “No, thank you.” The other women seems unconvinced of course, but she does not press Asch for anything and nods pleasantly. “There is much to see in Stormwind, if you please you may walk the city- if not there is a place for you to sleep and eat!” Asch smiles kindly at the women, “I think I will take in the city...” she didn’t really want to, but anything was better than sitting with all the other survivors and wallowing in the images of her burning home. 

 

Asch ventures up toward the stairs, intending to stay out of the way as she comes upon the Dwarven district, finding thread-dyed tapestries covered the tops of the archways. The stone beneath her feet was brown and felt homely and aged, it was busy enough here, but it seemed less busy than the more updated part of the city, it mostly seemed that people were only going through here rather than stay, it seemed simply a place to pass through. Asch liked the rustiness of it, the older feeling and the deep earthy smells coming from the burning forges and smelters. 

 

 

Even the yelling, dwarves gruffly calling for more coals or silver to melt was nice, not a constant stream of chatter. Many people were littered about, some loitering by the mail boxes, looking through their letters and packages, others were in the bank or the small auction house. Asch delights in this place, but finds she is overwhelmed by it all and feels her head ache badly from the sounds and lights. Asch continues down the brown cobbled path and looks at all the signs above the shops, reading each unique name until she comes across a tavern, called the Shady Lady. Asch smiles in amusement, deciding to venture into the place. 

 

Her toes felt cool against the floorboards, not many people were in this tavern, but there was enough to create and ambiance of joy and good nature. Asch sits at the furthest end of the bar, observing the people in booths and tables, admiring all the different faces and races. Asch waves the bartender away, unable to purchase anything. Asch looks at the mirror behind the bar, admiring the bottles creating a shine across it, the unique colours of each blue, green and yellow bottle making everyone she looked at in the mirror colour with the glass. Asch sweeps her eyes across the mirror, catching eyes with pair of golden ones, she jumps, realizing that their owner was right next to her. 

 

Retching her eyes from the mirror she’s met with a man, his head tilted slightly back, weighed slightly toward his shoulder,  eyeing her with a teasing smirk. His elbows were planted on the bar behind him, his hands hanging empty, ankles crossed. His hair was a faded grass green, long down his back and flowing in the absent space between his back and the bar while his ears pointed long behind him like dull swords. His clothes were fitted to his form, the darkest purple it could be before black, no symbols among his wear, his boots were tightly wrapped with some kind of silk and trimmed with fur. 

 

“Two beers barkeep,” he says cockily, eyes half lidded and brows drawn. Asch angles her chin toward her chest as she regards him with a curious pout, “Thank you but I don’t want anything.” Still the man fishes the gold from his pouch and carelessly drops it onto the dark wood, and says “Strange- why be in a tavern if you didn’t want me to buy you a drink?” Asch blinks as his smirk slips into a cool smile, amused as she looks at him. “Cydrith, my lady,” he tells Asch, uniquely cocky for a Kaldorei. 

 

Asch glares at the tall glass presented to her by the bartender, Cydrith as she now knows him to be, picks his own mug up and drinks it, watching her all the while. “I came here to...” not be alone. Though Asch wished to say, she but her lip, deciding that she did not wish to speak her pains to some strange man. She glances away from his frame, staring at the floor, but she sees something covering his feet that causing her to frown. She had not noticed initially, but his boots were black with char, soot- and burnt flakes of bark. “You were there,” she mutters, listening to him place his mug onto the bar beside her, a sigh escaping him. 

 

“I was. Now I am here.” He tells her without the frill of flirting or cocky cooing. “And so are you.” He says, something odd in his voice now that Asch cannot place. Asch studies his face for a long, odd moment- then with two fingers Cydrith pushes the mug toward her, a lopsided smirk returning to his face “Get drunk with me.” He asks, leaning in her space, Asch arches away, only to be met with the back of her chair and helplessly whispers, “I don’t even know you.” Cydrith seems amused by her response and shrugs “Did you want too?” Asch colours at his obvious innuendo and cautions herself for a moment, she knew what taking that drink meant, but she does anyway. 

 

Asch does not like the taste at all, her face pinches and she recoils, Cydrith snorts softly, “I don’t like it-“ she squeaks, licking the residue from her lips and cringing. “You don’t drink it for the taste.” His laugh is handsome, and Asch feels a bit dizzy from it. “What do you drink it for?” Cydrith’s brow raises at her question, as if the answer was obvious, but he answers her anyway “To feel anything else but what you are.” His words were puzzles and struck a deep cord within her, though her fingers tingle her mind is there there, a slight muddle, but not lost. “What am I suppose to feel?” She wonders to him, watching him hail another drink for himself as hers is half finished. “What would you like to feel?” Cydrith ponders, looking at her with lazy amusement. Asch lets her hands fall toward her lap, toying with her pooled gown, “Love,” she mutters, honestly and sadly. Cydrith reaches for her, picking up her chin in his warm hand, a tender smile along his face. “I think I can help with that, for tonight.” Asch scoffs gently, feeling her loneliness ebb away for a moment, but the dread of it always on the edge of her mind. 

 

For tonight he says, and no other nights past. 

 

Asch weighed the idea, but discards any thought of agreeing to him, though it would be nice to feel someone beside her just for the night, have someone to hold her if she prodded, how warm he might be, it was fleeting. It was for only tonight. 

 

So she shakes her head, reluctant to do so, but offers a sad smile, “That is too steep a price to pay for something so cheap.” Cydrith plays with her response before giving his own, “It would not be so cheap to me” He says smoothly, adding “Do you know how it is you’ll feel day come tomorrow?” Asch nods with confidence, “Alone.” And Cydrith tilts on his feet, angling toward her. “Drink with me then, and we shall see how you feel.” 

 

Chapter 166: Volbin dabbles 9

Summary:

Volbin Swiftmoon/Asch Swiftmoon

Oh no I’m so sorry! This is so overdue! I feel really bad I made all of you wait this long for an update! But here it is! Thank you for the 400+ Kudos! Thank you so much!

Enjoy!

Chapter Text

 

Volbin stirs lulling his head to the side, feeling the coolness of his pillow. Lazily, he opens his eyes and smiles as he sees Asch curled into his side. Volbin arches his head, using the leverage to kiss her forehead, delighted as she stirs. “Good morning my love,” he mutters, watching her blink groggily, noticing the window behind her clearly had the moon overhead and in full view. They were in the throngs of their honeymoon, it was blissful and quiet- and compared to nothing else in this world. 

 

“How are you?” Volbin whispers, too cozy to leave the nest of furs and warmth. Asch sighs happily, stretching and wriggling toward him, “Sore.” Asch slides her hands up his deliciously firm skin, delighting in the security of her husband, not for the first time realizing just how big and capable he was. “Is that right?” He was smirking, a little proud she thinks. Asch feels her face heat up, “Let me make us something- are you hungry?” Asch nods vigorously, “Mhm!” Volbin chuckles warmly, nodding as he rolls from her embrace, leaning toward the floor to pick up his clothes. As he dresses himself, Volbin glances at the heap of her wedding dress, frowning in thought, “There is nothing for you to wear.” He tells her, an odd look on his face. “Oh!” Asch squeaks, suddenly realizing the same thing. 

 

“Let me find you one of my robes and tomorrow I’ll make a trip to Stormwind and purchase you a few things.” Volbin says, opening one of his dressers, lifting a dark red fur line robe from it and laying it toward her on the bed. Asch takes it and slips into it, the shoulders sag slightly around hers, giving her a delicate look, Volbin inhales sharply at the sight of it. Volbin stretches her hand out pulling her up from the bed and wrapping his arm around her, taking her though the halls toward the kitchens. Volbin had recently hunted and there was plenty of meat stored. Their bear feet slap against the stone floor and Asch squeaks and clings to Volbin, shaking a bit from the cold. Volbin chuckles softly “It will be warm in a moment.” 

 

Asch shakes, “I get cold so easily!” Volbin hums, “Terrible than that we live in a tundra.” Asch giggles, nodding “The snow is very pretty- however cold.” Volbin chuckles as he shoulders open the door, letting her though the kitchen. Asch wanders around, touching the wooden table set in the middle of the room as Volbin flames the torches to lighten the room. Volbin watched Asch come to his side. In a flurry of movement Volbin picks her up and sets her on top of the table, getting a gasp and a happy, pretty giggle from her. “Volbin!” She squeaks, smiling as she steadies herself against his forearms. Volbin steals a kiss from her soft lips and leans onto his hands, caging her between his arms. “Now my love, what would you like?” He asks, watching her cheeks colour prettily “I won’t be picky- whatever you would like to make!” Volbin ponders out loud, musing as he looks at the kitchen, “Chicken and vegetables?” He suggests, brow tilted in question. Asch nods excitedly, “Yes please!”

 

 

Volbin begins to pull out all the things he needs to start making the food, dumping wood under the stove and setting it ablaze. “I have never seen anything like this before,” Asch says, sounding mesmerized, “Oh?” Volbin answers, listening to her hum. “Yes- father never allowed me in any place such as the kitchens.” Volbin frowns slightly at the reminder of her father. “What kind of man is your father?” He asks, knowing what he appeared like to Volbin, but it was yet to be known exactly how she felt about the man who sired her. 

 

Asch is quiet for a moment, but then in the softest voice, “A hero.” She says it as if it frightens her to consider anything else, “Why is that?” Volbin asks, without betraying his neutral expression as he turns to her, wondering how she could think that of a man who clearly cared so little about her. Asch plays with the fur on the cuff of her borrowed robe. “In the war he save countless lives- he wasn’t always so strict.” Volbin wanted to scoff, he was cruel- not so simply strict. “Most my life I did not know him, only of him. Sometimes I would see him and he would touch my head with a soft hand before continuing his duties.” Asch speaks of this with fondness, like it was wonderful her father had done such a sparingly kind thing. “Your mother?” Asch recoils at his question, “She- well. She was my mother. She died some time ago. But she was... a women without equal.” Volbin fixes their dinner together and places it in the oven once it heated. “You are a women without equal.” He coos, watching the beautiful surprise cross her face. Volbin swivels on his feet toward her, kissing her hair. 

 

Just as Volbin was leaning into kiss her heatedly, there was the loudest thumping bang through the halls. Volbin flinches angrily, frowning. “W-What- was that?” Asch mutters, gripping his arm and bit nervous now, “It was the door.” Volbin rumbles, slightly defensive and furious. “Stay here.” Volbin lifts himself away from her, his heckles raised. Volbin’s ears perk at  the slap of feet “Asch!” He barks, watching her stumble and flinch sheepishly, her toes curling and knees knock. Suddenly Volbin realizes he was behaving just like her father. 

 

“Asch I-“ Volbin chokes, “No one should know of this place- I- I don’t think you should come with me.” Asch’s lips press together sadly, “Just- stay behind me?” Asch perks up, padding toward him and taking his hand within hers, and cautiously they leave the kitchen. Volbin eyes the door with distain, “Stand behind the wall there-“ Volbin says in a hushed tone, this time Asch is not upset at his commands, so she listens and scampers off to hide behind the wall. 

 

 

Volbin pulls his weapon from its standing position beside the tall dark doors, gripping it harshly, before easing the door open. 

 

Volbin glares sharply as the figure, leaning against his door frame. His hair was white as the snow behind him, his face spotless and handsome, ears long and dressed in little chains and feathers. His clothes were extravagant, nothing out of place or even covered in the falling snow somehow. Volbin against his better judgement was about to speak, but is surprisingly interrupted by his uninvited visitor. “Where is my sister?” He demands, almost ignoring Volbin as he sways his gaze away from him, as if treating him like a servant awaiting his answer. 

 

Volbin’s ears perk as there’s a squeak, “Azor?!” Volbin’s head swivels as Azor brushes passed him, leaving him in the empty door face bare to the snow. “Little sister!” He chirps, arms pulling around her, sweeping her up. “I heard from father you’ve embarrassed the family again?” Azor teases, and Volbin grows grim,  rumbling as he yanks the door shut, placing his weapon back in its place. Volbin clears his throat, aiming a distasteful look toward her brother, who turns and arches a brow “Oh- how rude, aren’t you the man that stole my sister?” There was a cocky smile raising along his face. Volbin rolls his tongue across his teeth, brows raising “And you must be one of the brothers I didn’t invite.” There was a scoff escaping Azor as he put Asch back on her feet, “Oh? Then I can’t visit my sister is it?” Volbin crosses his arms, “How is it you found this place?” 

 

Azor hums, deeming to indulge him, “You’ve been galavanting from Darnassaus to Stormwind. It was child’s play for my spies to find my sister.” Azor chuckles cockily, than adds, “Worry not, I paid my fathers spies. He will not find you.” Volbin’s face drops suddenly, “But he will. I should cloak this place.” Azor nods “I suppose I should give you a hand in this.” At the offer Volbin recoils, looking at him suspiciously, “I think I can handle it myself.” Azor tilts his head, “Why is that?” 

 

 

There was an awkward pause before Volbin spits his answer, “Because I do not trust you.” 

 

Azor blinks, his dark golden eyes looking like spotlights in the low light, “And yet I did not allow my father to know where you took my sister.” Volbin regards him quietly, Azor curtly laughs, “Such trouble I went too, to keep your secrets-“ “I still do not trust you.” Volbin hisses, glaring, but the other only shrugs, “I don’t care, I am here for my sister.” 

 

Volbin begins to laugh cruelly to spite the other of his cool facade, “In my experience those who say that, are just trying to use her.” 

 

“Oh your experience? Married for a single day and you’re experienced now?” Azor quips, mockingly. 

 

“Experienced enough to almost be killed by your father-“ Volbin snarls, unamused and irritated, suddenly interrupted by a hand touching his arm, “Pease stop fighting...” her voice was timid and upset, Volbin deflates a little, able to see tears form in her eyes. With a sigh he pets her hand, nodding “Are you staying?” He directs the question toward Azor, who simply nods, looking a bit sour. “I’ll see you in a moment Asch,” he mutters, kissing the side of her head, “Come with me.” 

 

 

Asch easily finds her way back to their room, Volbin not far behind her. Though he seemed tired as he finished starting the fire. Asch watches him stoke the flames with droopy eyes and smiles a little as he lulls his head to look at her, “I’ll find you something better to wear tomorrow.” He pauses wiping his hands, “Let me get our dinner it should be finished.” Asch watches him dart through the door, humming excitedly as he leaves. Asch pulls the furs toward her, making a lump in the bed and cooing at how cozy she felt. 

 

“There’s more in the closet,” Volbin chirps from the door, surprising her, shockingly quick. “Oh!” Asch giggles, gasping slightly as he brings her food right too her, allowing her to eat in the bed- it was slightly shocking but as Volbin shifted under the furs he seemed content to allow it as he ate his own. “So is this the brother that you care for?” Volbin ponders as he’s shifting his food about his plate, picking some vegetables up. Asch pouts slightly, “Do you not like him?” Volbin makes an aborted noise of dismay “He is... a bit like your father.” Asch glances up at him, and he adds, “I know what he means too you, I won’t fight with him.” Asch perks, lifting herself up enough to peck his cheek. 

 

Volbin and Asch finish their food and Volbin discards the plates along the nightstand pulling the furs toward them, bringing Asch into his side and curling toward her. “Goodnight Asch,” he pecks her lips, Asch wraps her arms around his middle, squeezing him before allowing him the choice to roll away. 

 

And as they nuzzle their faces into their feather pillows, both drift off to sleep. 

 

 

 

 

Asch shivers awake, suddenly struck by how cold she was. Asch inhales sharply, turning onto her back, fluttering her eyes open to see the barest hints of the ceiling illuminated by the settled fire from the hearth in the middle of their chambers. Asch pulls the furs up to her chin, frowning as nothing changed and she continued to shiver. Asch huffs, lulling her head, catching Volbin fast asleep and hair tousled rather handsomely about his pillow. Asch bites her lip, turning toward him and shifting until her naked skin met his. Volbin was delightfully warm and Asch coos as she pressed her hands into his skin, one touching his side and the other firmly against his chiseled, hard stomach. Volbin barely moves, caught in the throngs of sleep and despite her frozen hands touching him, he did not wake. 

 

 

Asch admires him, staring at his face and trailing her gaze to his lower belly, something she would have been too embarrassed to do if he were awake, even now she finds herself darting her eyes from his hips. Small wonder he was not cold, but then Asch never knew him to be anything but scorching. Looking at the furs covering him, Asch is a bit bold and with very gentle prodding, the blankets slip down his hips and expose his soft cock. Asch covers her mouth as a squeak threatens to escape her and quickly she hides her flaming face in her feather pillow. Her whole body begun to grow over heated as she is reminded of their first night together. 

 

 

Her cunt was sore but she could feel it clench at nothing and her belly stirs as she remembered his eyes, so dark and lustful, staring at her with all the love in the world as his mouth was sealed over her cunt. Asch pants into her palm, squeezing her legs together, than a thought came to her. Volbin had pleasured her with his mouth, something she had not thought possible- or decent. The thought grew with her curiosity, what if she could do that for him? Asch shakes her head, growing embarrassed and feeling shameful, it wasn’t something she could do- it wasn’t natural, it was not lady like. 

 

But Volbin had done it for her. 

 

Asch presses her lips together, lifting her hand from her mouth. Volbin was her husband, and he had not been ashamed to press his head between her legs- it couldn’t be shameful! Asch bites her tongue, face beet red as she slides down the bed, pushing the covers over her head so she was in the dark once more. Asch felt for Volbin, touching his upper leg, careful to move between his limbs as she snugly found her place. 

 

With the utmost carefulness she eases her hands toward his inner thighs, nearly panicking as she grazed his balls with her fingers. Asch scolded herself for being so nervous and reaches for his limp cock, touching the soft skin with her fingers delicately. Asch marvelled as she grasped him in her hand, feeling his heat. Asch licks her lips to wet them and pokes her tongue out of her mouth, pushing hair behind her ear as she leans toward him, licking one small and quick line. Volbin makes a soft noise, shifting ever so slightly as her tongue laps at his cock. Asch feels her cunt throb, the ache growing with each pass of her tongue. Asch’s face became pink with embarrassment as she suckles and kisses his cock, yearning slightly to feel his warmth curled over her. 

 

Asch grazes her teeth along his cock, her teeth catching his skin as she nips his cock slightly. Thinking it was the proper way, she continues and Volbin suddenly jerks, lurching up. “Ah- w-what?!” Asch freezes, squeezing her eyes shut tightly, “Asch?!” Volbin squawks, tearing the blankets away from her face, exposing her to his eyes. Asch’s breasts were pressed against his thighs, her lips wet and face red as blood. Asch lurches up on her knees, arms pressed tightly to her chest, “Oh- oh I’m so sorry-“ she squeaks so utterly embarrassed and completely ashamed. “Asch were you- are you-?” He sputters, his beautiful eyes blinking, Asch felt like she was going to sink into a black pit as the silence overtook them as Volbin pieced together exactly what happened. 

 

 

“Asch, come here,” he was cooing, a bit amused and face purpled with embarrassment as the words came out with a breathlessly laugh. Asch has little choice as his hands wind around her and tug her into his lap, though she still hides behind her fists because she cannot look at him. “Y-You... you- oh...” Volbin finds himself sputtering terribly as he stares at her. Her breasts were flushed a pinkish colour, a tad darker than the rest of her, perfectly matching her blushed cheeks. Volbin’s hands slide up her ribs, his thumbs grazing the weight of her breasts, his face feels like it’s on fire as he cups them gently. Volbin’s eyes glance down toward her belly, his cock  throbbing against his stomach. There was no fat in any place around her thighs or sides, she looks soft and supple as silk, her stomach slides without a line or kink toward her cunt, her parted wet lips were dimly lit by the firelight. 

 

Volbin could feel his heart pounding in his ears, there was a shake in his hands as he runs his thumbs over her perky, perfect nipples. The sounds she was making was driving him mad, he was so dizzy and hot, his whole chest felt on fire, his cock was oozing down his stomach. He has to dart his eyes away, too embarrassed as he begins to feel like a boy who barely knows how to touch himself. Asch was so pretty, far to pretty, Volbin was so intimidated, he felt like he had no idea what he was doing with a woman like this. She was a lady, a lords daughter. 

 

The single thing that at least he had over her was Asch seemed even more nervous than he was. Asch couldn’t stop squirming in his lap as his thumbs rolled over her nipples tenderly, the sounds of her moans were so delicate. Her shapely hips were rolling making little aborted thrusts as if she was trying brush against him but too shy. Volbin bites his lips harshly, slowly he removes his hands, placing them back on her hips, terribly nervous as he moves his hands, and without warning one curls between her thighs and slides through her wet lips. Asch gasps, arching away from his hand, but it is no use as his fingers follow “Were... were you trying to pleasure me?” He asks, voice still deep with sleep, each word dropping to hit her ears like a drumbeat. Asch begins to squirm, unable to focus on what he was saying fully. “I-I um- oh...” she stumbles, feeling two of his fingers circle her wet opening, stretching and toying with her. “It’s alright- really,” He coos, cheeks still dark with colour. The hand that was petting her hip takes hold of her wrist and carts it between their bodies, helping her wrap around his twitching cock.

 

 

With his hand wrapping around hers, he slowly jerks his cock within her grip, eyes half lidded and staring at her. Asch’s lips spread open and noises pour from her as his fingers push into her gently, the pads of his fingers pressing and stroking her walls. “Y-You- y-you're s-so w-warm-“ Asch fumbles over her words, embarrassed to say them. Volbin moans, pushing his fingers to the knuckles inside her, “you’re so...so soft...” Volbin says breathless, a bit enthralled by her and the pleasure their combined hands provide his cock. Volbin could feel the soft thumping of her heart behind her breast, so eagerly pushed against his chest he nearly forgot what being apart from her felt like, as if this was the only possible way to be. 

 

Volbin removes his hand, slightly shocked she continued, but very pleased as he nearly melted in the pillows, his fingers working into her over and over. They were panting together, desperate for each other like no other, Volbin grinds into her palm as she jerks his cock in her warm hand, inhaling sharply at the twist in his stomach. Asch fumbles for a moment, gripping his cock, but barely moving her hand. Volbin’s eyes draw upward toward her beautiful face, only to see her eyes snap to him. There is a moment, only a small and precious one where he can see the emotions flash in her eyes, first panic, than embarrassment and finally, a tiny bit of courage as she surprises him with a tender, scared kiss. 

 

 

Asch shifts on her knees, moving closer as she deepens the kiss, inhaling shakily as she does so. Volbin does not move a single muscle, knowing anything could scare her, and he was far too curious to see what she wanted. Asch was not very forward in much of anything, so to see her hand hold his cock, kiss him with such passion, it was as if his nervous little bunny became entrapped with courage and excitement. Volbin moans outwardly, a mistake he realizes as Asch flinches a bit, hoping he didn’t ruin it Volbin now dares not to even breathe. 

 

Asch’s hand slides down his cock, exposing his head to the wet and scalding heat of her  cunt lips. Volbin shudders softly, air escaping his chest, he moves his hand from her so quickly as she slides him along her slit, the tip kissing her opening. “Gods... Asch...” Volbin mutters, unable to keep quiet. Asch keeps him steady like that against her, occupied with kissing him softly, undoubtably trying to ebb some of her embarrassment away, which he can so plainly see on her dark coloured face, the blush no longer sequestered to her cheeks, but her breasts and ears as well. Volbin was nearly chocked up in his own embarrassment as he writhed underneath her, feeling his cock jump and twitch between her lips, his cock oozing so badly and the beads of it rolling down his length to his balls, which were so tight and full. 

 

Volbin thought he may finish too soon and felt a bit embarrassed about that, hoping he could hold out long enough to please his pretty wife properly. His fingers were drenched with her slick, maybe she too was close- maybe she wanted him inside her as badly as he wanted to be. With his slick covered fingers, Volbin reaches for her cunt again, the tips of his fingers rolling over the cute little pink bud. Asch gasps, exhaling a moan as he rubs it, making her thrust against him in the most wonderfully torturous way. The head of his cock just barely pushing into her opening before being denied, Volbin almost growls at the pain, arching his hips to force his cock in its rightful place. Asch arches herself back and denies him, gasping his name ever so gently, in the way only he knew she could. 

 

There was a surge of emotion along with his sudden action, Volbin lurches forward, his whole body leveraging Asch, knocking her into the bed and making her squeak loudly, pawing at him as if she was afraid to fall. Volbin plants his hands on either side of her, still as stone as he looks at her. Asch pants, eyes wide and face covered in red blush, her legs squeeze into his hips. Volbin’s cock was nestled against her, throbbing and desperate and without even having to guide it with his hand, it enters her swiftly. Volbin moans at the warm and tight feeling, enjoying her writhing beneath him. Volbin pushes his lips back to hers, kissing her intensely as he juts his hips. 

 

 

There was a wet slap each time Volbin’s hips met hers, it burnt his ears but made his cock throb as Asch arches into him, her belly pressed into his tight, chiseled stomach. Volbin breaks from her mouth, muttering “F-Fuck Asch-“ his breath was hot against her neck, as his hand snakes between their bodies. Volbin slides his fingers over her wet cunt, feeling his cock enter her as his fingers brush over to reach her pink bud. Volbin felt his skin tingle as her hands slide up to the nap of his neck, surely ruffling his hair. The cold underside of her ring causes goose flesh, but the feeling was so welcome. Volbin lays butterfly kisses along her neck, reaching down to her collarbone, pausing as he felt her tug on his hair. Though he doesn’t stop pushing inside of her, Volbin lifts his gaze to her face, lids half masted and cheeks heated, his brow drawn as he watches her struggle to speak- a bit proud by that as no man was impervious to their ego. 

 

 

“I- I oh- um- u-up-?” She says timidly, hands squeezing his upper arms, Volbin blinks owlishly at her, humming in pleasure as he gathers her up in his arms, heaving them both up until she was back in his lap, his cock nestled deeply inside, his balls pressed into her cheeks. “A-Asch?” He whispers, looking at her face trying to understand what she wished. Asch’s hands pet his skin as he thrusts up into her, they slide down to his chest and push slightly. Volbin swallows, eyes wide as he sinks back  with her hand, he doing it more so then her most gentle shoving until she was astride his lap and completely exposed to his seeking eyes. 

 

At his position Volbin couldn't have her as he wanted, but he watches intently as she braces herself on his lower belly, lifting herself slightly off him, Volbin can’t help but watch her cunt clench around him. Asch lifts herself timidly, this time his whole cock leaving her to the tip, the colour of his cock was a deep, angry blue. Volbin gulps at the pain between his legs, squeezing his eyes shut tight as he breathes. She was going so painfully slow, teasing him- Volbin glares softly as she eases down, sighing quietly as if his cock wasn’t inside of her. Volbin huffs “Asch,” he says pointedly, watching her sit fully on him again before blushing sharply, “I will put you on your belly if you continue to tease me.” Volbin warns, almost cracking as her tongue pokes out to wet her lips, the deep shade of red returning to her pretty cheeks. 

 

“Y-You- um- w-wi- wil-“ she sputters, unable to say it, Volbin gravelly hums, as his stomach twists in a mix of pleasure and pain from the tightness, his balls aching. His hand plants on the sheets, lifting him lazily up as his brow arches in suspect, “That’s what you want isn’t it?” He questions, wetting his lips, His hands wandering to her hips, slightly turning her, causing her to sputter and cunt clench so dangerously tight. Volbin groans breathlessly, flipping her onto her knees, hammering his hips into her, his cock wet and hard as rock. Volbin’s hands lever her legs wide open, making her back arch as her face presses into the furs. Volbin is far too aroused to pay attention to how gorgeous she looks ass up and hair all about the pillows. 

 

 

Volbin leans over her, his hands squeezing her backside as he pants, finally, finally able to chase he release and a chipped cry escapes his mouth that he bites into a growl as he finishes, his cock pumping it into her. “Gods” Volbin wheezes, slumping over her a sweaty mess and sated as his cock jerks inside of her. Asch whines into the furs, and with great effort Volbin once more places his fingers against her bud, rubbing until her whimpers turn into moans and she pushes back into him, her cunt a vice as she follows him, panting his name. 

 

 

Volbin sags over her, his body falling over hers and sighing as he adjusts them, his arms coming around her as she catches her breath. Volbin blindly paws for one of the furs, throwing it over them and barely managing to cover both of their naked, sweat covered bodies. “I love... you.” He murmurs, falling asleep already. Asch weakly hums, breathless and equally tired. Not before long they fall asleep, despite being awkwardly positioned along their massive bed.  

Chapter 167: Volbin au dabbles 8

Summary:

Volbin Swiftmoon/Asch Swiftmoon

 

Gosh it’s been a busy time for me, I’m really sorry about how late I’ve posting this. I hope you all aren’t too upset!
Thanks for all the love and support friends! (I might have to edit this since I rushed so sorry about that)
Enjoy!

Chapter Text

 

Asch shuffles nervously in her tall heels, fretting over her gown as her maids tied it tightly. Today Volbin was going to meet a client and it was the first he had ever asked her to attend him. Asch does not know why he decided to ask her along, and she does not intend to give him a reason to ask her to stay. Everything was to be perfect, her hair strand by strand was fun place and piled atop her head in a fashion she neither disliked or liked, but one simply popular by ladies. The strands left hanging tickled her ear, but it was not so bothersome as it could have been.

 

 

Asch was not sure if they would be meeting many clients throughout the day, or just one, either way she was appropriate for lunch or dinner- or even a party. Asch wore gown that was the colour of her husbands hair, a teal that shines in the light and was loose enough she could dance. Asch did not wear anything in her hair, but had a beautiful string necklace made of teal jewels and a bracelet to match. The maids helped a shawl around her arms and it hung behind her elegantly as they finished finished perfecting their lady. 

 

Asch holds her shoulders back and head high as she looks at herself, readying a regal and soft expression her mother had taught her to master. Asch did not like the way it made her appear, but mother was not a women who would hear the whim and wishes of her daughter- and Asch was lucky enough to be taught such things once, because she knew there would be no second lesson. Asch steps light as she can, nervous by the sound of her heels, and exited their bedroom to where Volbin was waiting by the fireplace. 

 

“M-My l-lord?” Asch calls, watching his ear twitch and head turn. Volbin took a moment to stare at his wife and blinks, before schooling his face coolly and inclining his head in a greeting “Asch.” He says, voice deep and pleasant to her ears, his arm lifting for her to take. Asch saunters over time him as prettily as she can, gripping his arm and lets him lead. Volbin was wearing blacks and barest hints of purples she noticed. His clothes were much finer than his usual, obviously something he wore when not working so as to not ruin it. He was handsome, with his hair brushed neatly, the ends wisping his bearded cheek, which too was trimmed slightly. Asch was almost too occupied by him to notice their arrival to the carriage- almost. It was not lost on her that he allowed her to enter before him and surprisingly, he sat next to her rather than opposed. 

 

It was nice, she could smell the scented shampoo in his lush hair, a deep forest and spring kind of smell. Asch despite being nervous, leans into his arm, averting her eyes so she cannot see his reaction, though it doesn’t seem to cause anything pleasant or not to stir in her husband as he allows it. The ride was lengthy and quiet, they passed through most of the city and through some quieter parts, but ultimately they begun to ride into an estate that was much smaller than Volbin’s but still had all the trappings of wealth that their home had. 

 

Asch dares to speak, “W-Who is t-this?” It would be extremely rude of her not to know his client, she did not wish to embarrass her husband if she was spoken too, however unlikely that was since it was a business deal and nothing more. Asch assumes she was nothing more that company to Volbin tonight and would rather not interrupt his work. Volbin clears his throat to speak and in a soft tone he responds, “One of my larger clients, Meldar Meadowrain. His wife is named Cecilia.” Asch silently repeats the names in her head over and again as they pull to the front of the house. Attendants were eagerly awaiting them and Volbin steps from the carriage, awaiting Asch with his hand out for her.  

 

Asch slides her hand into his and Volbin helps her from the carriage, then as she is settled on her feet, his arms slides around her middle. Asch colours pink as the walk, surprised at her husband for such a thing, but than she realized her heels were not exactly proper footwear for the snow they were walking through and that Volbin knew that and did not wish her to struggle. Asch stiffly winds her and around his back, starting to grow very cold as they approach the grands doors, which open to them. 

 

 

Volbin nudges her to go inside first and follows behind her, shaking the flecks of snow out of his hair. Asch gently strokes the front of her dress, watching snow fall from the bell of her dress. There is only a moment before they are greeted by lord Meadowrain and his wife. Medlar had a pinched face, his skin dark purple and his hair was blue and tamed in a low ponytail. His wife Cecilia was very elegant looking, her satin dress hugged her body and almost looked difficult to walk in. Her hair was green and tightly piled atop her head in a modest fashion, while her skin was soft blue. 

 

“Lord Swiftmoon thank you for accepting my invitation.” Lord Meadowrain says with a curt nod, eyes slightly dull and rather stoic as Asch observed him carefully. “And my lady Swiftmoon,” he adds rather uninterested, more to be polite than anything. Still Asch curtseys, smiling softly, “As lovely as I have been told.” It did not seem a genuine compliment, but his wife Cecilia seemed upset by it nonetheless as her small smile turned flat. 

 

“Shall we?” Lord Meadowrain gestures them to follow and Volbin nods, allowing Asch to take his arm once more and they follow the lord through his home. “I’ve heard business is good.” Lord Meldar attempts conversation, Volbin hums “It has been.” Meldar chuckles at this, “You always were modest. Lord Cinnis I heard has helped a great deal. Your marriage has been certainly beneficial.” Asch feels her husband grow stiff at his comments, but answers him still, “My father in law has helped small amounts.” This once more makes lord Meldar laugh, as if he does not believe that, but says nothing more in conversation as they walk into a grand reading room. 

 

Each wall was covered from floor to ceiling in books of all kinds, their spines all muted colours and thick as Asch’s dainty fist. “Have a seat,” Meldar gestures, seating himself on the opposite sofa. Asch fathers her dress and sits delicately. It was not at all comfortable, but this was hardly the time for it. Volbin sits very close to her, Asch swallows quietly, feeling the heat in her face as his hand presses on the small of her back. Volbin’s thumbs swipes back and forth in an absent motion as they settle. Lady Cecilia bats her lashes in a pretty manner before she speaks, “You’ve been married nearly a year now, isn’t that something?” Though Asch was sure Cecilia was speaking to her, she seemed rather interested in her husband by the expression  on her face. Asch tilts her head slightly and suppresses a frown before she speaks, “Y-Yes n-nearly.” Cecilia glances at Asch, seeming disappointed Volbin did not answer her, “Exciting is it not? Mel and I have been married for eight, But nothing compared to the first year together.” She says, though her face is rather dull when she says it, as if she was discontent with her marriage. 

 

Still she continues to speak, filling the silence though Asch would have preferred it. “Though the years haven’t been so boring for us, we have four children, they came rather quickly- didn’t they my love?” Cecilia chirps and lord Meldar hums, nodding along with her words “Yes, the boys came one after the other and our daughter came two years after.” Cecilia giggles, batting her lashes once as she looks at Volbin, “We hardly had to try at all!” Asch was a bit too nervous to try and see if Cecilia had caught her husbands attention as she so wanted, a bit upset at the thought she might have. 

 

“Well,” Lord Meldar chuckles, “I suppose we should begin our meeting. Will you accompany me to the garden Lord Swiftmoon, let the ladies have their fun?” Asch deflated at his suggestion and seemingly so had Cecilia, but neither of them said anything to stop their husbands. “I suppose so,” Volbin agrees, squeezing the tips of his fingers into cash’s back as he rises. Asch looks up at Volbin, smiling softly as he regards her, he offers a gentle smile in response before he turns and leaves with lord Meadowrain. 

 

Asch becomes unsettled as the door is closed leaving her and Cecilia in the silence, the fire crackling beside them. Cecilia plays with her rings, watching them glimmer in the light of the fire. She had the traditional golden wedding band, but behind it was an engagement right, it was a simple enough diamond, not large or small in a simple setting. Asch did not think anything of it until Cecilia seemed to latch onto something and smiles up at Asch in a way that she knew wasn’t friendly. 

 

“Tell me about how he proposed too you!” She giggles, head tilted and expectant. Asch curls her hands in her lap, a small sigh escaping her as she attempts to save face despite saying, “He didn’t. Our marriage was arranged.” Asch knew it wasn’t something to be ashamed of, arranged marriages were common, but the satisfied look Cecilia gave her was more than enough to make Asch feel terrible. “Oh. Well I suppose that explains the way he looks at you.” Cecilia coos cruelly, smiling as she holds her hands out to admire her rings. 

 

Asch fidgets in her seat, “W-What?” Cecilia blinks up at her “Oh it was arranged- how could he love you? He was basically paid to take you,” she laughs as she speaks, finding it greatly funny as Asch sunk into her misery. Asch does not let how hurt she feels show, only nods simply “I s-see. W-Well i-it h-has b-been l-lovely...” Asch swipes off the front of her dress, gathering herself “I-I s-should g-go and- and f-find m-my h-husband...” Cecilia hums too sweetly, “Hm I suppose you do- at least to keep an eye on him, what with your arrangement.”

 

Asch inhales shakily, rushing from the reading room, with her dress in her nervous hands. The path to the garden was easy enough to find and the servants opened the double glass doors. The snow was falling heavily around her and Asch instantly begins to feel frozen. Already shaking to the bone as she tried to follow the paving stones into a tall snow covered hedge maze. Asch hesitates as she sees it, she knows she will get lost and stands there motionless, surprised as she hears voices. 

 

“-The opportunity is quite rare.” She hears lord Meadowrain clear though she cannot tell where he is. “Of course it will take a few months, possibly half the next year, but the metals are precious and I’d like no one else to oversee the project.” Asch can hear the walking, it was far but it was distinct. “Half a year?” She can hear Volbin’s voice, even from where she stood he sounded so warm, much warmer than she was now. “I don’t believe I should be away from my wife for such a long time.” Asch felt her heart skip at his words, “What does a year matter?” Lord Meadowrain scoffs loudly, “Is she expecting? Is that why you wish to stay?” 

 

 

“Not that I know of.” Volbin responds, his voice a bit rough. 

 

“Then what do you care?” Meadowrain snaps, clearly irritated.

 

 

Asch feels her chest stiffen slightly from the cold, she couldn’t stay outside like this much longer and pulls her skirts closer and she scurried back inside the house, shivering badly as she hobbled back into the reading room. Cecilia glances toward her with a sly smile, “How was the loving husband?” Asch sits slowly, unable respond  to her snipe. Cecilia seems pleased by it and sits pleasantly, looking at her rings as if to hammer the point. And Asch allows it, without saying a word. 

 

It isn’t much longer before Volbin and lord Meadowrain “Think on it, it’s an incredible opportunity.” He says trailing inside, nodding and patting Volbin on his shoulder. Volbin seems irritated, distracted as he glances toward her, “I will consider it. Asch.” His voice was flat, barely looking at her as he crosses his arms. “We are leaving. You’ll have my answer by next week.” 

 

 

Cecilia smiles sweetly as Asch has to catch up to her retreating husband, her heels clicking loudly as she nearly jogs to catch up to him. This time Volbin doesn’t let her inside the carriage first and Asch deflates as he sits on the opposite side. Volbin stares out the window of the carriage, his eyes hard as stone and aimless. “Meadowrain proposed a mining excavation. A year.” Volbin mutters, not looking at her. 

 

Asch wasn’t sure what it was, maybe it was all the build up, but Asch found herself suddenly bursting into tears. They were full blown down her face and she was weeping badly, but she was desperate to stop them from happening, sitting as straight as she can and trying to hold in her emotion. Volbin sits up, shocked slightly “Asch what’s-“ he breaks off when her sobs get louder. 

 

Suddenly there were arms around her and her face was pressed into his neck, “I won’t leave.” He mutters into her hair, kissing it gently and inhaling the lovely scent of his wife. Asch leans away from him, her lashes wet and sticking together with her tears. Volbin lifts his hands to her face cupping her jaw gently in his rough hands. It was slow and deliberate, but Volbin’s lips reach hers, gentle and wonderful. Asch leans into him, her shaky hands holding his arms as he pushes forward, the kiss deepening to degrees she didn’t know it could be. Asch feels his hands traveling down her body, moving to the lower back and pulling her. Asch makes a small noise and Volbin takes the opportunity to shoves his tongue into her mouth, both overcome by the emotion of it all as he leans them both into the cushioned seat of the carriage. 

 

 

There was a bump that ruined it all and shattered it like glass. Volbin pulls off of her m, gasping in each other’s faces. Asch was no longer crying. “I won’t go.” He says once more, glancing behind him, huffing as he sits up. “I’m sorry I brought you.” He’s ruffling her hair, “It was cold- I should have known- you aren’t good with... Volbin trails off, glaring at the outside snow as they pull to a stop. “I want you to eat and sleep. I have a few things I need to deal with.” This time he looks at her, a softer expression “I will join you in a little bit.” He holds out his arm and to Asch, it is everything. 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 168: Volbin dabbles 10

Summary:

Volbin Swiftmoon/Asch Swiftmoon

 

Oh my gosh! We have over 60k+ views and I just wanted to say thank you so much for reading this! Its been a joy and a journey. I’m really excited to continue on into the next year! :D

ENJOY!

Chapter Text

 

Volbin wipes his face looking off into nothing as he sits across from his new wife’s brother- his new brother. 

 

In law. 

 

Asch was smiling at him, listening to him tell her about his new born son. Asch was an aunt. 

 

“He’s very quiet I’m told,” Azor hums as he picks at his eggs, “My wife is very much in love with him, spends all her time at his side.” Asch giggles happily at her brother “Oh that’s so sweet!” She squeaks, looking at Volbin. Finally he nods, smiling a bit tensely “What did you say his name was?” Volbin asks, trying to include himself, because he knows that Asch would appreciate it. “Kyadin.” Azor says proudly, aiming a lopsided smile toward him. “Has his mother’s eyes.” 

 

Volbin hums absently, leaning back in his chair. Asch deflates a little bit, “Volbin you said you were leaving to... um- to Stormwind? Why not take Azor?” Asch suggests, smiling timidly at him, batting her lashes. If Volbin didn’t know his wife he would think she was doing it on purpose. “Who would keep you safe?” He asks, though it sounded playful, Volbin wasn’t exactly interested in the idea of leaving her all by herself. “I’ll be fine!” Asch waves off, making Volbin frown lightly “You shouldn’t be here by yourself.” Azor leans into the table, “I’ll teach you a protection spell.” Volbin shakes his head, “No-“ “Come now, one of the first Spellblades created it.” Azor says with a tilt of his head, and Volbin glares sharply “Its your fathers?!” Azor looks surprised, impressed actually as he regards him. “He won’t find her.” The two look at each other, Volbin glaring and Azor blinking evenly. “He won’t find her.” 

 

 

Volbin stands by the one door of his home, glaring sharply at the frame, arms crossed tightly as he inspects the magic present there. “Volbin...?” Volbin barely hears the whisper come for him wife. Glancing back he can see her fidgeting, her ears drooped and expression bereft emotion. “What’s wrong?” He asks, arms coming undone as he approaches her. Asch’s pretty eyes slowly reach his and he can tell she's very upset “I know you won’t like him,” she says quietly, “But please- try?” Volbin hates how upset she looks and swallows the lump in his throat before he gathers her into his embrace, kissing the top of her head. “You shouldn’t be alone here.” He argues still, though he has no solution in mind that would allow her to come with them. Volbin knows it will be a quick journey to gather her some things, but he still does not like the idea of her alone. 

 

“I’ll be fine,” she chirps, a bit more positive than him, Volbin frowns tightly hugging her into him, “What if the fires die?” She couldn’t light one herself. Asch shakes her head as if it was impossible “They won’t- if they do I will stay in our bed and keep warm under the furs.” Volbin ignores the feeling he gets in his belly at the idea of Asch waiting in their bed for him, cold and excited to see him. “I won’t go where I haven’t seen before,” she promises him, tenderly kissing his jaw, the corse hair undoubtedly tickling her lips. Volbin's eyes flutter shut and his chest puffs out as Asch plants her hands on his chest. “Go, I’ll be fine. You won’t be long.” Asch timidly prods his face down, kissing him softly “Thank you.” Volbin smiles gently. 

 

The moment was ruined when there was a slight, smug sounding laugh. Volbin's head angles back, glaring at Azor, who had propped himself against a thick bare wooden banister. “As lovely as this must be.  I believe it’s time we leave.” 

 

Volbin exhales, his jaw flexes angrily and Asch leans up on her tip toes once more to kiss his bearded cheek. And Volbin felt her leave him and he felt cold and gloomy. “Fine.” 

 

Asch waits there, looking the vision of a proper lady as Volbin waves a portal to Stormwind and Azor goes through it first and Volbin takes a moment to look at Asch, smiling at him, and then he leaves. 

 

“It has been some time since I have come here.” Azor muses, looking about, noticing that Volbin is tight and grim. “Would you like to know something about my little sister?” There was a glare given to him, so Azor continues “My father would leave the estate many times a week, nearly every day in fact- building his empire.” The two of them walk out into the city, weaving through crowds as Azor speaks. 

 

“I didn’t notice for the longest time that when we left Asch would be standing in front of her window, seeing us off.” Azor says gently, face focused. “Never once did I realize there was someone waiting for us to return. She missed him, she missed me, and I didn’t notice-“ 

 

“What exactly is your point?” Volbin snaps, clearly not hearing him. 

 

Azor sighs, rolling his eyes “None of us cared we had someone waiting. That we had someone waiting there for our safe return. You are her husband and I believe you are the first that deserved the title.” Volbin is quiet now, his face unreadable. They walk along the cobble streets, going through the stores, both not quite sure what to pick. “These are her measurements.” He gives Volbin a neat paper and receives a look, “It would be difficult to buy her things without this.” Volbin snatches it and Azor laughs gently, “It was among her wedding items.” And then he says, “I know that this is not ideal- honeymoon and all.” 

 

 

Volbin scoffs, as if his statement was the most understated as they approached the seamstress’ counter, “I would like dresses With these measurements.” Volbin says, passing the paper. Azor sighs, looking at the human dubiously “It is for a Kaldorei. She is blush pink, no orange of any kind and certainly no greens.” Volbin quirks a brow and Azor shrugs “She looks sickly in green.” 

 

The seamstress is very agreeable and goes to her selections while they wait. Azor leans back on of the the solid wooden tables, crossing his arms. “Did she tell you how many children she would like to have?” Volbin frowns, but it’s more curious than angry, “About ten-“ Volbin’s face flushes slightly red, eyes growing slightly large before snapping back to a dull, irritable expression. Azor continues to speak, looking curiously at Volbin before continuing “-Few dresses aren’t expensive but. Ten children are. You live in an icy wasteland and you feed yourself by killing the wildlife. Now that’s fine, for you. Exactly what is the plan you have for ten children? Unless you plan to explain to my baby sister that she won’t get the ten children she’s already had names for since she was little.” 

 

 

Volbin grunts, “You think very little of me if you believe I wouldn’t give her everything she has asked me to.” Volbin then turns himself to look at Azor, his arms cross tightly over his chest “I have a substantial wealth. Not like your fathers, but enough to care for the children she and I will have. One, ten or more.” 

 

Azor hums, considering this, “I had no thoughts about you, I was told some commoner stole my sister. I’m not here to find something wrong or take my sister back to my father, have nursemaids tell my father something he already knows and give her things to abort something that may or may not be there and watch her get sick and smile about it.” 

 

Azor straightens his face and stared at Volbin, a firm and persistent stare “I am here to see she’s taken care of, give you help whether you want it because you are apart of my family now.” Azor chuckles, shaking his head, “I’m not my father.” 

 

"So you say now," Volbin replied, "But I've known you for less than a day.” Azor blinks slowly, deliberately, head tilted slightly as he regards Volbin steadily, “What exactly do you believe I would say later?” Volbin glares sharply, mouth twitching in an irritated way, he was obviously growing tired of Azor, but he indulges him. "It's not what you would say, but what you would do. And if you act at all like your father that means I don't trust you." Volbin bites, snarling like beast. “And yet I’ve done everything I can so my father won’t find out?” Azor sounds slightly angered, his brow dropping slightly into his eye line, “Do you really wish to know what my father would do? Do you? If I was my father I’d have taken my sister- have my men grab you and break you while my sister watched and told her it was a lesson in propriety.”

 

Volbin's brow narrows as he peers down at Azor, "If you or your father had attempted that, you would fallen dead before ever stepping foot through the door. Do not be so vain as to think I haven't made the proper precautions for anyone bearing ill will. I have had ten thousand years to prepare and I could spend ten thousand more deciding where I'd bury you. Everyway this situation could go, it would end the exact same as the wedding. With me carrying Asch away from a horrible position." Finishing his statement, Volbin returned to waiting for the seamstress.

 

Azor laughs leisurely, a light kind that holds no worry, “Having no fear is admirable. But foolish. I haven’t lived much longer than you have but he has lived very long. He has no shortage of patience. If you think I have ill will toward you, fine. She would hate either of us for being cruel,” there’s a soft, almost vacant smile, “but she would hate you most if you killed her father.”

 

 

Volbin lightly shook his head, "Do you think she would take losing her husband much better?"

 

Azor considers this, humming in thought, “Oh I’m sure she would miss you, yes. Then my father would find her another husband and she would remember you every night as the new one abuses her.” His face is as hard as the words he spoke, Volbin says nothing and looks coldly ahead as the seamstress returns with two dresses in her arms.

 

 

“She’s very little. I only have two- we usually don’t have anything prepared for smaller sizes.” The girl chirps, smiling softly as she drapes the dresses on the wooden counter, “I can make more of you’d like?” Volbin threads his hand though his hair, nodding, “Make twelve more then, when will they be ready?” The girl seems very excited about this and nods “about a day, sir!” Volbin pulls the dresses from the counter and presses the gold to the wood as payment for the whole order. 

 

“Take these too her. I need to get a few more things before I return.” Azor looks puzzled as he takes them into his hands, “Ah I see you trust me then.” Azor smirks, comfortable with the weight of the dresses. Volbin stands straighter, glaring softly “A small amount.” As he leaves it begins to dawn upon Volbin that he now has someone to go home too. 

 

“Hello? Are you still there?” Volbin adds, throwing his head over his shoulder. The girl pokes herself from the back door frame, smiling as she holds bundles of fabrics of all colours in her arms, seeming excited “Yes! How many I help you?”

 

Volbin quirks a brow at the eagerness but finds it refreshing  as he says, “Ah, well, I forgot some of my needed purchases, is it possible to increase my order for tomorrow?" The girl hums, lifting the fabrics into the counter and pulling a parchment from under the counter, a quill dipped with black ink at the ready. “Yes of course, what else may we make for you?” Volbin pauses a moment, thinking. "To start, I need linens, four large and four small. Past that I will need a few other clothing items...” The girl nods, the sound of the quill scratching on the parchment as she mutters the order out loud to herself, “Is that everything?” She blinks, smiling happily at Volbin.

 

Volbin glances around, as he looks back at the seamstress, saying, "Well I need underclothes. For my wife." The girl perks up, making a soft sound, “Oh? Any kind in particular?” Her quill poised, the extra black ink almost dripping out from the stem of the aged and frayed hawk feather pen. Volbin swallows, glaring a little bit at the excitement in her voice, "Just regular, enough to keep her well supplied. I... don't know how many that is.” He says, ridged and irritable, grinding his teeth together as the unsettled feeling stirs in his belly. 

 

“Oh!” The girl seems surprised at his words, obviously curious about his words but professional enough not to ask him, “I can... make enough that I think she may need... or as many as you wish?” Volbin thinks for a moment, "I'll leave it up to your judgement on how many, these are... ah... basic underclothes?" The girl tries desperately to hide a snicker, pressing her lips tightly together before she responds, “Yes sir they are.” Volbin dislikes how easily she finds the conversation and says "And what if," Volbin asks cautiously, "I also wanted to get her something... less basic..?" The girl twirls the quill between her finger tips, glancing at Volbin, a hint of puzzlement across her face, “What kind of... less basic?” 

 

Volbin’s eyes squeeze shut for a moment before opening again, “I... suppose the kind that... one wouldn't wear for themselves..." he grinds out, hesitant to even want to speak of it. The girl gathers a sly smile along her face, a small giggle as she nods, “What colour, do you have an... idea in mind of what you’d... like to see?” Volbin’s mouth twitches slightly, "Ah, well I.. have none really, I just need to get her... something..." Volbin couldn’t get the image of his new little wife waiting for him to come home, excited to see him and kissing his cheeks like she did when he left. 

 

The seamstress looks very intrigued, a bit too bouncy and excitable as thoughts race through her head, “Is it for anything?” Volbin shifts, looking at the empty shop continuing to hope it will stay empty. “Not... particularly..." Volbin slowly replied, feeling his cheeks heat up slightly as the girl only gets more excited and enthusiastic as she scribbles down whatever she has been deciding in her mind. “Is it just one thing or would you like several?” She squeaks, patting the fabrics on the table, smoothing them down lovingly. Volbin winces awkwardly, biting his cheek “I suppose... several.”

 

 

The girl smiles in the most understanding and kind way, “Everything will be ready tomorrow around six.” Volbin nods stiffly, his legs carrying him out of the tailor shop and into the street, it wasn’t until he was bumped by passerby’s did he finally snap out of it and continue through the city. Volbin came to a leatherwork shop, a dwarf quickly coming to the counter, “What ‘an I getcha?” Volbin glances around the shop, his eyes caught at the traps hung on the wall and the animal head trophies. “Six Sheepskin and six spring wolf fur, roughly the same size.” Volbin says, looking for the threads spools on the wall rack “Makin’ a blanket?” The dwarf asks, heaving Volbin’s requested furs onto the counter “Yes.” Volbin response, musing “My wife has difficulty keeping warm. Spring wolves have the thickest fur but they do not live where I do.” The dwarf hums in interest “This some kinda’ gift then?” Volbin picks up a heavy thread and a thick bone needle. 

 

 

“A wedding present for our bed.” Volbin smiles, thinking about their bed, this blanket they will share that he will make with his own hands, it’s an old tradition, but one his father had shared with him, one that he will carry on to his sons. The dwarf chuckles, “tha’s nice, elf. ‘ere’s everything. Fifty gold.” Volbin passes him the gold gathering the furs that the dwarf rolled up and tied nicely, the underbelly showing rather the soft fur so it won’t ruin in his way home. 

 

Volbin weighs the items in his arms and decides the rest can wait for tomorrow and conjures a portal home, looking through it as snow billows out of the puncture and sighs, he never did get it precise. 

 

Volbin eases open the door to his hall, looking around at all the fire lit and the life there. And for the first time, he calls for someone he knows is there “Asch?!” And just like a bounding bunny atop the snow swept dunes, she steps out in her new sandy dress, smiling so happily “Volbin!” As she comes to him, Volbin places the bundles of furs down and as soon as he stands Asch is in his arms and kissing his cheek the best she can reach on her tiptoes. “Azor said you had a nice time!” She squeaks, smiling so prettily “Thank you,” she whispers, her hands squeezing his shoulder blades. Volbin basks in the touch, and suddenly lifts her off her feet, hands gripping her bottom and kissing her passionately, mouth consuming her. Asch gasps into his mouth, melting into his embrace as he carries her along the empty hall. 

 

 

Volbin parts to breath, watching her pant and colour “W-What w-was that?!” Volbin feels a warmth through him “I missed you.” Asch grows a lovely shade of dark pink, all the way from her cheeks to her ears as Volbin puts her back on her feet, reminding himself to buy her shoes tomorrow when he leaves. “I have to pick a few things up that I have being made tomorrow.” Volbin says, watching ad had she fixed her dress flustered by his sudden affections. “What- w-what d-did you have with y-you?” Volbin peers back at the bundle of fur fondly, “I wanted to make a blanket for our bed.” Asch looks passed him, mouth slightly ajar in a curious and sweet way, “Oh,” she seems mesmerized but this, which Volbin found endearing as she wanders over to the bundle, touching the ends of it to feel the little bits of exposed insides, helpfully brushing snow off. 

 

 

“Where is your brother?” Volbin asks, interested in the reason he wasn’t bothering them. Asch smiles back at him, standing once more and brushing nothing from her dress, likely trying to keep it as nice as she was able. Asch seems very grateful for such a small thing, but from the moment they met Asch appeared to never take things for granted and took care of the things she had. Something Volbin thought very odd for the daughter of a lord, but finds very heartwarming. “He went to bed, he brought dinner- he said he wasn’t sure how long you would be, but I waited.” Asch says, looking guilty as Volbin listens carefully, “Waited? You haven’t eaten?” Volbin asks gently as her ears droop, as if she did something wrong. 

 

“I-I didn’t want t-to eat w-without y-you.” Asch mutters, looking rather small as she admits this, not looking at him in the eye as if he would grow angry with her. Volbin licks his lips, the side of his mouth quirking in a lopsided smile, “Well then, shall we?” Asch seems surprised by this and blinks her pretty eyes at him, her lashes fluttering like snowflakes. Volbin extends his hand and Asch excitedly takes it in her own, smiling as they hurry to the kitchen together. 

 

 

Volbin hadn’t spent long in Stormwind this time around, it was like a blink and he returned with clothes in decorative bags and as he lifted a roll of furs under his arms he kissed her and said he wouldn’t be far and she could put her things where she pleased. Asch was daunted by this aspect, wondering exactly what to do with all her things, staring at the nearly vacant closet that had few of her new husbands things. Asch felt like an intruder when she placed the first dress on the hanger, staring at it like it wasn’t suppose to be there. 

 

Asch shook her head and rather than continue to hang her dresses, she unboxed the colourful shoes, some had tall heels and others had none and Asch looks at the ones without and is baffled by such a thing, wondering if her husband had asked for such a thing or if it was just simply something people wore. Asch certainly didn’t and when she placed one on her bear foot it felt strange. Asch slips on the flat shoes and finds she would like to keep them on. 

 

Pair by pair she placed them along the line where she knew they should go, finding it oddly calming to do it herself rather than have someone else do it for her. Finally Asch plucks the dresses from their bags and does place them, piece by piece belonging into this place as if she had always been here. There were two other bags and Volbin said she had twelve other dresses and fourteen shoes, but she counted and there shouldn’t be anything else. Asch ponders the bags and sits herself on the fur carpet, pulling it to her and picking the tissue from the opening. Asch blinks, cheeks turning dark as she sees carefully piled underthings. 

 

Asch exhales, unable to breathe for a moment as she lifts out soft pink satin panties, and then yellow pairs and blue, and finally there was another line of tissue in the middle of the large bags. Asch quickly stores them in the drawers by her side of the closet. And keeps from embarrassing herself by making a scene and pulls the remaining tissue from the bags. Asch has not been so shocked before this moment, inside were assorted, colourful and not at all practical items. Asch could see sheer fabrics, and ribbons- tufts of fur. Asch pushes the bag away slightly, dizzy as she heats up in the face, considering exactly what all of this was for. 

 

Tentatively Asch reaches inside the bag, plucking a single item out. It looked to be a sheer nightgown, two very small strings to hold it over her shoulders and at the top and bottom were lined with white fur, it did not look like it was meant for sleeping because it did not cover passed her hips as she held it up to her body. Asch leans over the bag, taking something that seemed to match it, a very small scrap of panties, they felt comfortable in her hand, lined with lace. 

 

 

Asch picks a few more pieces up, looking at them and growing more embarrassed at each one she finds until she counts at least sixteen outfits she knew weren’t to be worn for herself. 

 

 

Asch lifts up the first thing she had picked, looking at it and finding it embarrassing that she can see herself clearly through to the mirror on the wall, nothing to hide herself and no items in the bag to cover herself while wearing it. Asch swallows, Volbin wanted her to wear this...? It must have been why he bought them. Asch hesitates a moment, biting her lip before getting up from her spot in the floor and delicately placing the flimsy sheer items on a shelf while she undid her dress laces. 

 

Asch felt foolish, silly- 

 

“Asch?” Completely mortified. 

 

Asch can’t move as she hears her husband step into the closet, and cringes at how she hears him pause and likely stare. 

 

“You’re...” Volbin’s voice dropped a little, Asch presses her hands flat to the front of her dress so it doesn’t fall off now that the laces were loose. “Do you want help?” Asch blinks, eyes wide as she slowly brings her gaze over her shoulder. Volbin looks curious, brow drawn up “With the laces?” Asch is chocked for a moment, had he not seen? 

 

“Oh- oh n-no I... w-was j-just changing o-out of it-!” She squeaks, she has never been a good liar, but Volbin doesn’t seem to think she was according to his hum. “I’ll give you a moment to change- will you come out after so I may show you something?” He says innocently, with no assumption of anything. Asch breathes out a shutter, nodding quickly “Yes-!” She listens to him close the door to their closet and with the speed of a doe frightened by a wolf Asch throws all of the clothing into another drawer. 

 

Asch yanks on the laces of her dress, forgetting completely that she was suppose to change out of this one and scurries out into their bedchamber, finding Volbin fixing a stitch of a blanket she had never seen. “I made this,” he starts, peering up from his work, smiling softly “For you, as a gift for our wedding- for our bed. It’s made of sheepskin and Spring wolf fur.” Asch looks at it, the massive very beautiful blanket, the pure white sheep skin on the underside of the wolf fur.  

 

“Oh-“ Asch can’t find anything to say, it was so wonderful, she’s never been given something so wonderful before. “You get very cold,” Volbin smiles, chuckling a little “Come and try it, it’s for us- but I made it for you.” Asch picks up her dress and goes to the bed as sits as Volbin pulls it around her. The thing was honestly massive, dwarfing the rest of the furs on the bed. Asch swipes her hands along the sheepskin, “It’s so soft...” Volbin kisses her head, “It’s wonderful thank you Volbin!” Asch coos, pulling the ends around her. 

 

“Good, now stay here and keep warm for me while I go out in the snow with your brother and check some things.” Volbin makes sure the blankets are secure before leaving her there. Asch took the opportunity to look at the stitching, caressing the soft sheepskin and burying her nose into the warmth. Asch shifts on the bed, trying to get cozy enough as she slips her shoes off curling her feet underneath her. 

 

Volbin’s bed was of wonderful quality, large and much like the ones that she was used too, it’s insides made of the softest things. It was so comfortable to dig into, Asch pauses, looking around at the massive thing, the equally large bed as well, Volbin had said our bed. Asch felt a blush invade her cheeks again, this was hardly proper, to share a bed with her husband. Asch was a bit nervous at the idea, though she had spent some nights here she never considered this bed was shared, until Volbin had said that it was. Asch altogether was not sure how she felt about it, but she does not let it bother her as she pulls herself completely into the blankets embrace.

 

Asch pulls the blankets into a lump, watching a piece of it not move, Asch paws curiously at it, it wasn’t apart of the blanket, it was smaller, it was stitched at the sides and it appeared purposeful. Asch holds it open in front of her face, head tilted in thought. 

 

Asch pulls it into her lap as the Volbin returns, smiling tiredly when he noticed her sitting there. “Oh- you found...” Volbin exhales, shaking his head “That was a surprise.” Asch blinks, lifting the smaller blanket up, “It... is?” Volbin nods, leisurely slipping onto the bed and taking the blanket. “Your brother gave me the idea.” He almost sounds irritated by that, but he brushes past it, “It’s a baby blanket... for whenever it happens.” He says softly, rubbing his knuckles over the fur, smoothing it down in the continuous motion. Asch felt breathless, staring at her lap where it sat, unable to move or think. 

 

Asch snaps, her gaze locked into Volbin's, her lips parted slightly, Volbin smiles lopsidedly as he says, “We can start making it happen?” 

Chapter 169: Volbin dabbles 11

Summary:

Volbin Swiftmoon/Asch Swiftmoon

 

I’m so so sorry this is so late! The holiday season was causing a lot of issues for me and I couldn’t update my story. I also had bad computer problems that wiped all my stories... but anyway!

Here it is! Enjoy and again so sorry!

EDIT: sorry I named it wrong haha!

Chapter Text

 

 

Asch leans her elbows on the flat expanse in front of the window that their bed sits against. If she wished she could get right against the window to watch the heavy snow, feel the chill on the glass, but she was content to sit under her sheepskin blanket. 

 

Small parts of her were very nervous, she was fidgeting and she knew it wasn’t becoming of a lady, but she could hardly help it. Asch held the ends of the blanket tightly together, her knees tucked under her as the wisps of the sheer fabric she wore tickled her hips. Asch could not help the colour on her cheeks as she tried to keep herself calm, watching the heavy, large snowflakes cover up an animals tracks outside. It was the only thing keeping her nerves in check as she squeezes her thighs together. 

 

Asch had been sitting like this for a time, only able to do so because Volbin was away and she did not know when he would be back. 

 

Outside a shadow looms in the white expanse, a great pile of fur lumbering as it carves a rut through the snow, shuffling gradually into the warm firefight creeping from the window. Asch perks up, blinking wildly as if her eyes were tricking her. Asch smiles a little at the creature, not able to see exactly what it was, but finds the clear cut it created in the snow pretty. 

 

The shape vanishes from Asch’s sight, going on the direction to their heavy wooden doors, it approaches the front door, moving closer to slam against the door until the light spills out as the door swings open. The shape lurches in, stamping heavily as it enters the doorway before the door slowly closes. Asch jolts at the sounds of it, eyes wide and unseeing as she hears the slam of the front door and the subtle soft sound of it closing. Fear soaked into her chest as she shakes, unable to move from her spot completely, hands shaking in fright as her elbows dig into the wood underneath her along the windowsill. The animal outside could not possibly found a way into the hall?

 

Gradually the shuffling noises in the house get louder until a shadow blots out the crack of light under the bedroom door, moving slightly about. Asch slowly moves her head, watching the glow from the door vanish. There wasn’t anything she could do, no where she could try to hide, so she sits there, watching with a face bereft of emotion as she isn’t quite sure what to do now.

 

The door slowly creaked open as the shape filled the frame, stepping into the room with a groan as it shook itself. Asch’s ears fall like wet paper, tears come to her eyes as she clutches the blanket too her, quivering like a wet leaf. The shape finally stands up straight, and Volbin is clearly revealed by the firelight, shedding the furs as he looks at Asch curiously, "Asch what's wrong, are you hurt?" 

 

Asch whimpers, eyes blinking away tears, “I- I t-thought- y-you w-were a-an a-animal o-of s-some k-kind!” Asch says miserably clutching the blankets to her chest, shaking and filled with horror. "An animal?" Volbin exclaims, "But w-why would you think that?” Asch swallows face colouring deeply “I-I couldn’t see that I-It was you!” 

 

“Oh, I... should have made myself known," Volbin's face equally flushes, "Apologies." Asch pouts, her heart beating too quickly in her chest as she tries to calm down, “Y-You t-tracked snow e-everywhere.” She mutters, shoulders dropping slightly. "Oh," Volbin says, still slightly shocked, "Well... at least it will melt?” Asch blinks, feeling terrible, “Oh- I.. I didn’t mean that it was... i-it doesn’t bother me.” Asch buries her nose in the tuft of her blankets, biting her lip nervously. Volbin steps forward, shedding most of the large furs that still covered him, "Hush my love, I'm sorry to keep you waiting."

 

Asch lets the blanket slope off her shoulders slightly as her chin angles slightly down while she regards him, “W-What were you doing o-out in the cold?” She asks him, trying to think of anything to calm herself down as he approaches, completely unaware of her dress. "I had to check the traps," Volbin replies smoothly, "Something's been taking livestock, and it is unwelcome." Asch makes a soft sound at his words, concerned and more than nervous that this creature could be anywhere near them at the moment, sniffling at their door and smelling their sweat and scents.

 

“Did you catch anything? What do you think is out there.” Asch glances back at the snow outside, the large drag marks in the snow all but gone now save a small dent, partly hoping she may see something of the animal so that she at least knows where it was, though neither that or not knowing comforts her. "Nothing was out there, but some of the traps were sprung and I did find some blood spattered," Volbin hums indecisively, adding, "I'll have to go back out tomorrow, reset the traps and hope it leaves a trail in clear weather."

 

Volbin rubs his fingers through his slightly snow-damp hair, lost in thought and scowling at the annoyance, the turn of his lip was quite handsome on his face, though not a lovely as a smile. 

 

Asch’s toes curl underneath her as she kneads the blanket within her hands, she was making it all the worse for herself thinking such things about him, but it was very hard not to notice how handsome her husband seemed to always be, despite the dirty appearance the sweat, and snow, and mud gave him. Biting her lip softly before she says, “It won’t be able to... get in here will it?” Volbin smiles, leaning over to kiss her, "You are perfectly safe." Asch touches her lip, still unconvinced, but does her best to believe him. 

 

“You must feel dirty- did the snow soak through? You might feel better after a warm bath.” Asch  says softly, settling in the bed a bit more. Volbin hums in pleasure, too close to her face and still somehow not close enough, the sound shot straight through has he speaks “Oh yes that would be wonderful.” Asch perks from nerves more than anything else, then hesitates colouring a deep red, “O-Oh good!” She squeaks, trying to seem natural, “I’ll be r-right here!” 

 

“Would you mind getting it running for me?" Volbin replied, seemingly unaware of her turmoil and embarrassment, “I would first like to get out of these wet clothes.” It was an easy enough thing to do, there was no reason she could disagree to such a simple thing, but Asch feels her naked legs flex under her as if to remind her of her silly plans to entice her husband. It was not as though he would not be so enticed, he would she was sure, but she felt to naked and silly, it was many things and seduction she was not at all good at. 

 

Asch sputters quietly, feeling her whole face flame, “I-I it- it’s t-too c-cold- I- I w-want t-to b-but i-it’s v-very cold!” Asch tugs the blanket around her, making sure nothing was easily visible to him, it was a terribly lame excuse, but what else could she say? Asch was after all a horrible liar. 

 

"Hm?" Volbin asks confused, "But you'd be warming it up?" His expression was lost, a sort of innocent of everything around him, unaware of his nearly naked wife sitting in their bed. “Oh- b-but I- I already had a b-bath!” Asch tried desperately, eyes wide and a bit frantic. "Oh? But I wanted you to start it?" Volbin asked curiously, once more backing her into a corner, one of her own making. 

 

 

“V-Volbin I- I” Asch wasn’t sure what she could say, too nervous to do anything but sputter. Her embarrassment started to fester terribly as he looks at her, his confusion rather endearing. Asch could not stand to deflect him over such a thing as this and finally she nudges the blanket down enough that it exposes her bear pink collarbones and the two small silk straps over her shoulders, hoping he would understand without having to say it. Volbin's face pales as he realizes, "Oh, um, I'm sorry Asch, I-I can get the bath going myself." Asch looks anywhere but his face, “I-I w-wanted t-to-“ Asch pauses, breath escaping her shakily “T-There w-were t-these... o-outfits? A-And I- I thought I... oh-“ Asch hides her face in her hands, completely embarrassed now.

 

 

Volbin looks away as well, "I-I'm sorry, I didn't realize what you meant... oh Elune this is unexpected." The colour came back to his face, a hot and deep purple colour that invaded his cheeks to the tips of his ears, it was burning his skin. “I-I’m s-sorry I- I shouldn’t have-“ Asch stumbles over her words feeling completely foolish and so very unladylike, “I-I’m s-sorry...” she could only imagine what her mother would think of such a thing. Mother would think her a whore, Asch was not raised this way, certainly not meant to behave like this. 

 

 

"No don't be sorry," Volbin assures her trying to bring his gaze back to her face without much success, rather his eyes were trained on the dark pink flesh illuminated by the flames of them hearth close to their bed, "It's quite alright." He adds a bit breathless, voice growing deep and heavy with emotion and lust. 

 

“S-Should I-I t-take it- it off?” Asch asks tentatively, fidgeting in the bed, wondering if this was a horrible idea. "T-take it off?!" Volbin sputters out, "-Asch if you take that off I can't promise what will happen next." Volbin has the images fresh in his mind of Asch, she was so pretty and little in his arms, all too eager and Volbin couldn’t figure out how to breathe properly as everything in his mind became so dizzy and wonderful. 

 

 

“I-I d-don’t w-want to u-upset y-you I- I shouldn't... I s-should have k-known that...” Asch clearly doesn’t understand what he meant, thinking he was rather disgruntled by it than anything else. "Upset me? I can promise you Asch it would do the opposite." Volbin answered, swallowing harshly. "O-Oh-" Asch squeaks, sitting very straight and ridged, unsure of what to do now, becoming rather skittish as she stews in the strange silence, not sure if she should get up and embarrass herself or sit, and stare at her husband.

 

Volbin gulps slightly, staring at her in return, as he intermittently glances at their bathroom. “I- I c-can change?” Asch whispers, unsure of what to do, “a-and you can g-go bathe...?” 

 

"What? N-no," Volbin hastily replied, looking rather stif "I'm not saying you have to change, I was just saying..." Asch feels shame twist in her belly as she shrinks into the bed, lip bitten red and she nibbles it nervously, peering at Volbin through her lashes, fidgeting in discomfort. Volbin steadies himself. "What I'm saying, Asch," he states, voice a touch deeper, "Is that I very much like what you are wearing right now, and wouldn't change it for a thing." Asch blinks, suddenly shocked and confused, “b-but y-you can’t s-see it-“ her eyes were very large, innocent along with her words, seemingly unaware of what else they could suggest. "I believe the time is right for that to change, don't you?" Volbin answered, a glimmer in his eye, his hands touching the edge of the bed, touching the furs with a flat hand. 

 

“It’s- oh- it’s a... bit revealing!” Asch squeaks, flustered clearly and clutching the blankets as if it was improper for him to see such a thing. Asch doesn’t want the feeling to overtake her, Volbin was it her intended, but he was her husband. The ring settled on her finger made it so, the small ceremony- that Asch wouldn’t change for the world was real. So why did she feel so improper? This is was dirty and wrong? 

 

Volbin chuckles minutely, distracting her from her panic, "Asch I do believe thats the point of the outfit." Asch squirms, letting the blanket go, allowing it to slip down to reveal only a small portion of the outfit, but enough that it was easy to see how sheer and light the fabric was, her breasts were very visible despite the slightly coloured fabric, her nipples poking out from the cold. Volbin takes a step closer, smiling softly as he reaches for the edge of the blanket, "Wouldn't you be more comfortable without this weighing on you?" He wonders aloud, amused are the dark blush reaching across her cheeks, adorably along her nose to the tips of her ears. 

 

“I-I w-would g-get c-cold!” Asch mutters, eying where his hand begun to tug at the blankets, clearly too nervous to make sense of his meaning. "I could keep you warm," Volbin slyly replied, purring slightly as he climbs into the bed, his knee making a large dip. “O-Oh-“ Asch says in a very small voice, face continuing to colour darkly as some of the blanket slips away. Though she was becoming a little cold, Asch doesn’t show it. Volbin leans forward, lightly cupping her chin as he tilts her head up for a kiss. Asch arches slightly into the kiss, slightly falling toward him as he kisses her, her hands clutching at the remains of the blanket, slightly shaking. Volbin leans further over her, lightly pushing her back into the bed as he does so. 

 

 

Asch lets herself slip down the bed, feeling the soft fur hit the naked parts of her back, her head barely touching the wood beside the window ledge. Volbin slides a hand under her back, reaching up to graze against her shoulder as he deepens the kiss, grinning into her. Asch feels his fingers tickle her skin, she gasps, laughing slightly at the feeling, parting from him for only a moment to whisper, “W-What a-about the- the bath?” 

 

"The bath is one of the least important things on my mind," Volbin replies, a light grin on his face as he caresses her side, touching the soft fabric. "O-Oh-! Y-Yes I... suppose so..." Asch mutters smiling slightly though her face darkens, "A-Aren't y-you w-worried m-my b-brother w-will b-bother u-us...?" Asch knew it was still early enough that he might be awake somewhere in the hall. "Your brother left this morning, the thought of hunting a wolf didn't seem to appeal to him," a slight smirk crosses Volbin's face as he brushes his lips across her shoulder liking the feeling of her shiver. Asch blinks, becoming sad, "He didn't say goodbye...” Volbin stops moving, breathing lightly against her supple skin, "Your brother is returning tomorrow, but tonight we have the house to ourselves." Asch’s ears perk up from the wilted position, “S-So y-you hunted?” Her nose wrinkles, wiggling a bit down in the bed, letting the sheer fabric ride up her belly. Her legs pull from under the furs exposing silk stockings that cover her upper thighs to her toes. Volbin’s eyes dart downward, shocked to his core as he sees her legs settle easily.

 

Volbin sighs shakily, "I... didn't hunt today I simply looked for tracks." He slid onto the bed next to her, letting his cloak drop to the floor beside them. “Oh!” Asch says softly, biting her lip, carefully sitting up trying to be bold and tantalizing, though she had never done such a thing, it fell short. 

 

For Volbin it falls nowhere near short as a deep rumble emanates from his chest. Volbin swoops closer to her, his nose bumping into hers cutely. “I-It isn’t... silly looking i-is it?” Asch quietly says, peering slightly over herself, finger tips brushing over the fur, “I...” Asch trails off nervously, bumping her head softly into his, nose grazing his cheek slightly. Volbin smiles softly, "Asch I promise you it isn't silly looking." he says confidently, unable to take his eyes off her curves.

 

“Oh-“ Asch fidgets, obviously feeling a bit naked now and wanting to pull the furs back to her chin. "In fact," Volbin begins, leaning over again to kiss her, "I rather like it." Asch kisses him in equal measure, slightly conscious of the way her stockings were falling slightly down her legs, it shouldn’t have bothered her, but they were the only solid piece of clothing she had on. Volbin's hands brush across her back lightly dancing over the back of her dress, rifling it up slightly on his way. “T-There were... many o-other outfits,” Asch whispers, kissing his jaw, liking the way his beard scratched her skin, the nice soft feeling she got in her stomach as she kisses him again. “I-I didn’t k-know which y-you w-would l-like-“ she says, kissing him over and over again.

 

Volbin chuckles, it emanating from deep within him, "I'm sure I would like them all." Asch continued to kiss him, very eagerly and Volbin basks in it, overcome by how sickly sweet it was, how tender and innocent those persistent kisses were against his rough bearded cheek. Volbin wonders if it was a favourite place to kiss of hers, she did this so often it must have. Volbin wonders if he had such a thing in regards to her, but then decides that he didn’t have a favourite and rather liked kissing her everywhere. 

 

“A-Ah...” Asch hides her face in the junction of his neck, peppering timid little kisses along his jaw, squirming a little bit as she feels his hands. Volbin slowly extends his hand further, grabbing onto her and hoisting her lightly into his lap. Asch gasps, hardly expecting it, her nose bumping into his while her cheeks grow dark. Their fronts were pressed together and Asch could feel the rough texture of his outfit, it did not bother her but it did make her aware of how close they became and how exposed she was. Volbin pushes her away for a moment, only so long as to pull his shirt off before returning to kiss her. Asch plants her hands on his skin, caressing her hands up his ribs, continuing to kiss his jaw and cheeks so tenderly it was aching.

 

 

Volbin bites softly against her lip, hands spreading across her back as he kisses her. Asch jumps, surprised, touching her finger tips where his teeth met her skin. Asch lets a small giggle escape, smiling at him softly before kissing him again, moving closer in his lap, delighting in his warmth. Volbin smiles, pushing himself up further, and pulling her further into his lap as he let's his fingers slip under her straps. Asch wraps her legs around his sides, squeezing herself closer as she wiggles her shoulders to help with the straps, unable to stop kissing his face. Volbin slips them over her shoulders, letting them slip down naturally as he pulled her over him. Asch brushes her nose against his jaw, making it so she can kiss his neck, smiling “I-I like it here,” she says softly into his skin, “I-It’s v-very c-cold- but it’s n-nice.” 

 

"I'm glad you like it," Volbin purrs, "I tried to fix it up for you." Asch giggles again, nipping his throat, wondering if she would get a reaction out of him for it, she had hoped he may, she tried to not be gentle, but she was too nervous to do anything to hurt him. Volbin's eyes rolled back slightly as he gave a soft groan, biting his lip as he runs his hands to grip her butt firmly. Asch bares into his hands, liking the feeling of his warm hands on her skin. Kissing the little marks her teeth left, she tries to inch her legs wider, the small silk panties a bit more exposed now. Volbin purrs as she shifts on him, snapping his lips onto hers once more. Asch tilts her head to his seeking mouth, arching her back and moaning softly, her hair hanging loose down her back, Asch wondered if she should have styled it, she wanted to make tonight special. Asch feels little flowers falling out of her hair, and she writhes in his lap.

 

Volbin is growing hard beneath her, his pants uncomfortable as his hands slip under her and fumble with the laces binding his pants. Asch kisses him deeply, her legs coming undone enough so she can stand on her knees, her hands sliding up his skin excitedly, slightly hesitating as she felt the sweat along his skin. Volbin pauses for a moment to look at her, drinking in the sight for as long as he can. Asch pulls a bit of hair from her cheek, pushing it behind her ear as she bashfully glances away, her other hands fingers dancing along his skin, her nails slipping along his chest. Volbin finishes unlacing his pants, allowing his cock to spring out and swell beneath her.

 

Asch feels her thighs squeeze slightly, but she doesn’t look down, too embarrassed as she inhaled softly and shakily. Volbin allows his hand to stretch up, lightly rubbing her warm cunt through her silky panties. Asch’s mouth opens slightly, a tiny moan escaping her mouth slightly pushing herself into his large and warm hand, gasping and face dark. Volbin grins, rubbing slightly faster as he allows his cock to grind against her covered slit at the same time. “O-Oh V-Volbin...” Asch whispers, her hands cup his jaws, kissing the sides of his mouth, little whimpers escaping her.

 

"Asch," Volbin sighed, leaking slightly against her panties as he rubs her faster. Asch feels his cock poke against her opening, her silk panties growing wet, making sure each time his hips pushed up she felt him against her. Asch’s fingers press into his beard as she moans softly. Volbin moves his hands to slide past to grasp her ass once more, allowing his cock to grind against her. Asch begins to pant, her eyelids fluttering, feeling the way his hands tighten around her, pushing the silk panties tightly to her, allowing her to feel everything through the soft fabric. Volbin's cock pushes against her, slightly pushing her panties into her with his head. Asch gasps loudly, biting her lip as she feels him, her ears drooping in pleasure as she presses as close as she can, her breasts straining against his skin. There was a warmth in her belly that was so pleasant and nice, and now familiar. Asch felt this every other time they made love, the wonderful buzzing between her legs, the aching.

 

Volbin pulls her closer still, huskily whispering just one word, "More?" Asch nods violently, writhing against him biting her lip sharply, her hands gripping his skin and desperate to pull him closer as she feels the press of his cock against her sodden panties. Volbin allows one arm to reach out, lightly brushing against her slit before yanking the panties to the side and letting his cock slip in. Asch was not prepared, expecting him to take her panties off instead of push them to the side. Asch felt a bit dirty, that this was rushed and heated, she felt embarrassed that she likes it and helps push his cock inside with little timid movements from her hips.

 

Volbin grins cheekily, pumping his hips in time with her as he pushed her back upright, grasping ahold of her thighs. Asch gasp breathily, trembling as she feels his hands grope her thighs firmly, liking the pressure each of his fingers provided, “Y-You’ll r-ruin th- the oh- s-stockings if... if y-you aren’t c-careful-“ Asch gasps out her words, her voice nearly spent. Volbin lets out an abrupt grunt, "Mhm- I’ll buy you another," he says, continuing to push into her. Asch pants, still a bit concerned as his hands grip her legs and pull her with him, the feeling in her stomach twists as she wiggles in his lap, head arched back as she kisses the side of his jaw, soft moans escaping her. Volbin gyrates his hips around as he fucks her, rubbing his cock in circles inside of her. 

 

A noise escapes the back of her throat, a soft and small moan, almost like a hum, but sweeter sounding as she sags into Volbin’s body, unable to keep herself up straight as she sits in his lap. Volbin pushes both of them forward, repositioning his legs as he lay Asch on her back, now pressing down on her from above while he enters her. Asch pulls at the furs, tugging them in her hands as she arches into his embrace, her knees pressed tightly to his sides as she sighs in pleasure. Volbin sinks them deeper into the furs, grinning as an indent of her body is made while he fucks her. Asch lifts her hand toward his cheek, pulling his mouth to hers so she may kiss him as she likes, moaning into his lips as she writhes in the furs, the grove of the fur aggravated by their coupling.

 

"Asch..." Volbin sighs agaisnt her mouth as he clutches her, holding her close. Asch smiles softly, “I-I l-love y-you,” says whispers, breath escaping her. "I-" Volbin began, as his body lurched and straightened while he finished, "Love you too," he panted. Asch coos, her toes curling as she rubs her legs into his sides, warm at the feeling in her belly and feel the sweat damp the furs beneath her. Volbin carefully pulls out of her, reaching his hand down to slowly massage her clit as his cock oozed against her leg. Asch writhes in the sheets, biting her lip softly as her half lidded gaze reaches Volbin’s, the prettiest and most breathless moan escaping her as her cunt flutters.

Volbin grins as he rubs his hand faster across her, lightly moving it in circles. Asch shutters, shaking as she moans “Oh- Volbin...” arching in his hand as she finishes.

 

Volbin grins tiredly, slipping down into the bed beside her, tugging at the furs to cover them. Asch turns into her side, panting quietly as she tried to catch her breath, watching Volbin settle deeply in the pillows and sheets, smiling at her drowsily as he pulls her close. “W-Would you... s-still want that- b-bath...?” Asch mutters against his neck, eyes heavy. Volbin hums, “I think I would.”

 

 

 

Chapter 170: Volbin dabbles 12

Summary:

Volbin Swiftmoon/Asch Swiftmoon

I am so so so so so sorry that it’s taken me this long to update! I have had a really really bad time with personal stuff so I just want to say that this story isn’t going anywhere, but I might be slow on updating it! I’m terribly sorry to those who look forward to my updates but background stuff is happening so be patient! For now please enjoy this chapter, it might have some/a lot of errors but I’ll fix it when I can I promise!

Chapter Text

Asch stirs awake making a soft noise as she rubs her face into the soft pillows, inhaling the scent of Volbin, her nose still pressed to the hallow of his neck where she fell asleep. Far too warm and cozy Asch wiggles closer to him, pressing herself as close as she can, humming softly in delight. Volbin slowly blinks his eyes open, glancing over at Asch and smiling in response. Asch feels him wake up and lifts her head so she can kiss under his jaw, lovingly rubbing her hands into his warm sides.

 

"Good morning Asch," Volbin rumbles so softly into her ear, warming her belly with absolute happiness. “Good morning,” she says sleepily, eyes fluttering open, but quickly returning shut, rather enjoying their bundled nest too much to wake up. "Did you sleep well?" Volbin asks, stroking her hair, nuzzling himself closer as he enjoys the comfort of waking up next to her. 

 

“Mhm” Asch says, nodding tiredly, peppering little kisses along what she can reach without having to open her eyes. "That's good, ah," Volbin said yawning, "...to hear.” He shivers lightly at the petal soft kisses. Asch smiles, “Did you?” Keeping as close as she can, nuzzling her face into his warm skin and pressing herself to him while keeping their legs in a tangle. "Mhm," Volbin says sleepily, smiling dopily at her.

 

Asch’s kisses along his neck become deeper, slowly trailing from his jaw to his collarbone. Volbin groans deeply, stirring under her heated kisses, "Alright.. I'm awake then." Asch blinks open her eyes, pink dusting her cheeks “a-are you...?” She says while softly grazing her hands down to his sides, just above his hips.

 

“Mhm,” he huffs, the last bits of sleep shaking from his mind, “are you?” Asch pecks his lips softly, nuzzling her nose into his “O-Oh...? W-What?” She innocently, appearing not to understand his meaning. Volbin grins looking rather pleased, Asch looks up at him with doe wide eyes, waiting to see exactly what he meant, peering nervously at him as she tries to reach for him. Volbin reaches toward her and abruptly picks her up, placing her in his lap.

 

Asch jolts, “Oh!” She says, understanding, hands gripping his shoulders, “oh.” She whispers, a tiny smile coming to her lips. "Oh," Volbin answered with a slight smile, teasing her. Asch kisses his cheek, moving to his lips, smiling against his mouth as she kisses him, her eyes fluttering nearly shut as she does so. Volbin leans back a bit, allowing her weight to press into him as the kiss deepened. Asch colours deeply, parting slightly, whispering “I-I w-want t-to h-have y-your b-babies...” she says hiding her face in his neck, kissing it timidly.

 

Volbin leans away, lightly biting her lip in response, one hand running up her back and the other reaching down to cup her bottom. Asch moans softly, her fingers daintily plucking her nightdress up from her thighs, kissing him feverishly as her other hand trails down his side, pawing at his skin. Volbin allows his hand to stretch further down, until with a bang their door flew open.

 

Asch jumps against him, plastering herself against Volbin as she yelps in fright, staring at the door with wide eyes as Azor enters, looking rather surprised himself, but also knowingly smug. Volbin jumps out of bed abruptly, accidentally dropping Asch to the side, "What are you doing here?" he growled. Asch squeaks, peering over at Volbin slightly hurt as she fixes herself, sitting up in the middle of the bed, eyes dull and reserved. 

 

Azor peers at the scene, cocking a brow, “What am I? What are you? Very fortunate I came before this became a more compromising thing.” He says quite smugly. "If you leave, we can return to a compromising situation," Volbin glowered darkly. “Charming,” Azor says in return, “As much as I revel in allowing that. I’d rather not. That is my sister after all.” Watching he says, watching Volbin with a strange look. Volbin rolls his eyes sharply, peering over at Asch, noticing her crease fallen face, quickly realizing she was upset, leaning slightly over to her, Volbin kisses her head. 

 

"Bold of you to assume I would allow that.” Volbin retorts, “What are you doing here?" He adds, glaring at him as Asch smiles softly at him, still rather embarrassed. Azor scoffs, “What does that mean? Will you defile my sister while I stand here? I’m still here because I haven’t finished visiting my sister.” His voice was slightly edged, growing obviously irritated with Volbin and the hostility shown to him. "No one is defiling anyone," Volbin answered, still wary. "And as I said, nothing is happening while you lurk in that doorway." Volbin felt great distaste at the choice of words, as if Asch was not his wife by choice and he’s taken her by force. 

 

“Well should I leave you to your... finishing then?” Azor says sharply, displeasure in his face as his eyes scan between the two of them. Asch obviously mortified but keeping herself quiet and eyes averted from the two of them. "No no," Volbin said, walking to their closet, "I'm sure whatever reason you're here for is very important." He calls around the door, voice obviously vicious. “Simply visiting isn’t important then?” Azor calls, leaning into the wooden frame of the door, arms crossed. "If its simply visiting, etiquette demands forewarning. You were taught etiquette in your home weren't you?" Volbin asked curiously, rifling through clothing. “I did knock, but it appears you were occupied. I thought it might have been sleep, rather than what it seemed to be.” Azor says, chuckling absently, adding “my sister hardly ever sleeps in. I thought I’d might wake her.”

 

"I meant on the front door." Volbin growls, pulling his usual clothes on, "Which was locked." Azor gives him a look as the comes around, then gazed behind him down the stairs, “It wasn’t locked. I thought you... left it that way for my return.” He blinks, “I locked it once I came inside.” Volbin sighs becoming tired of his presence, "That door was absolutely locked. Did you break my door?" Azor pulls a face, “No of course not. If you locked it who do you think unlocked it?”

 

Volbin narrows his eyes becoming more bristled than before, "Were you followed?"

 

“Hardly.” Azor scoffs, than pauses seeming to consider something, “Were you?”

 

Volbin scoffs just as roughly, "I've lived here for years, you think I can't get in unseen?" It was an insulting question of course, Volbin Knew every way in and out of this place and it was hardly a dignified question to ask him. Azor’s brows raise and his eyes shift toward the bed, “Could it have been you, sister?” 

 

Asch jolts, looking between Azor and Volbin, looking nervous and guilty “I- I don’t... I-“ she looks up at Volbin, seemingly already upset and growing worse. Volbin's face grows a touch softer as he looks upon his beautiful wife, "Asch, what's wrong?” Asch looks at the pool of furs in the bed, “W-Was it m-my f-fault?” Volbin shakes just head quickly, "No," Volbin assured, "No one's saying that." Asch fidgets I able to look at either of them, ashamed at herself, “W-Well if it wasn’t... either of you... it h-has t-to be s-something I-I d-did...” Volbin strokes her hair gently between his fingers, pulling her hair away from her face and tucking it behind her long ear, Volbin offers a small smile as he says, "I'm sure you're fine."

 

Azor ponders for a long moment, glaring off to the side before speaking again, “Did you bring anything with you from our fathers estate?” He asks Asch, but directs the question to Volbin, “Do you know of anything she had?” Volbin’s mouth twists slowly, as his stomach tightens as he replies "Only the wedding dress.” 

 

“He must have done something too it. Bring it to me and you should look for something lurking in your halls.” Azor says, peering down the stairs as he enters their bedchamber onto the rug, close to the end table beside a lone chair. Volbin reaches into the closet, withdrawing the dress that was now clean of most gems and jewels and offers it to Azor. 

 

Azor takes it carefully, examining it superficially before taking it to the end table not far from him. And laying it there before beginning to let arcane escape his hands. “My father most certainly placed something upon this. Though I doubt he knows the location. I believe I know what spell this is and it shouldn’t reveal where you are.” Volbin nods, growing rather furious, "I'll search the house," he replied roughly. “Whatever was sent will likely have something on their person. Something that will match whatever was placed upon the dress.” Azor calls quietly, watching Volbin leave the room. 

 

Asch cannot help but be upset, as if it was her fault “I... I suppose father w-won’t l-listen w-will he?” 

 

Azor sighs quietly, shaking his head as he glances up, “I spoke to him of your husbands merit. He is not interested. Your husband is a commoner, he sees fit to call any children you have baseborn bastards.” Azor once more sighs loudly, “I did try to tell him of your husbands wealth, that there was something to salvage if your husband agreed to pay for you, he was firm in wishing your return.”

 

Volbin treads deeper into the dim hallway, the last traces of a receding conversation disappearing behind him as he went. It was only lit by the dim candle Asch had insisted on lighting, and every shadow seemed to leap and dart before his eyes.

 

Asch bites her lip, toying with the furs “H-He wasn’t kind was he?” Azor lets a chipped laugh free, “He certainly won’t be. You cannot find a suitable match of your standing now, since you’ve- well. I spoke to him at length- your worth is diminished considerably since you allowed Volbin to... make you his wife. He was hardly interested- rather furious as I recall.”

 

Volbin enters the kitchen, glaring about as he scanned the room, looking for the slightest hint of anything being amiss. Volbin boiled in a silent fury, how dare this intruder invade his home? How dare this intruder pose a threat to him and his wife?

 

Asch’s lip twists, “He will not consider meeting with Volbin at all?” She sounds so hopeful, “My darling sister I don’t think you want father anywhere near your new husband.” 

 

Asch stands, carrying the blanket with her to the closet, quickly finding herself something to wear as she calls to Azor, “But he is wonderful- I love him...” Azor laughs without humour, “Father does not care about love. I’m ashamed to think you’ve forgotten that.” 

 

Volbin glanced around the main hall, the fire low in the night and embers barely glowing. Everything seemed normal, but a heaviness hung over the entire house, a sense of something wrong. There was something etched in the shadows, sitting as still as any other object in the room, as if itself was a shadow, shaped as another elf. Volbin narrowed his eyes as he became aware of the misshapen shadow, allowing his senses to open and reach out with more than just his eyes. The shadow seems to have white eyes, a glow within their face as they lurch forward and in the small amount of light a glint can be seen. Volbin dodges to the side with haste as something blurs past him. Volbin has no weapons or armour on him, and is forced to dodge again, positioning his back to the central fire. 

 

The dagger slices forward toward him in an arc, trying to reach him, the form becoming more visible, a neat and together Nightborne of the looks of it, his face was half covered with black cloth, as the rest of him. With a mighty leap, Volbin shot straight up into the air, arms becoming massive wings and pushing him further up, before he dove back down, kicking the would be assassin into the fire. There was a scream as they went into the open fireplace, the flames lighting his clothes, though this does not pause the pursuit, determine to do damage he slashes, cutting into Volbin’s chest and arm.

 

Volbin growls deeply, swinging an arm at the assailant, the arm growing into a mighty paw as it connected. The assassin is flung into table, and does not moving after crumpling to the floor, sagging like a sack of flour. Volbin steps forward cautiously, examining the body for any more signs of life. There was shallow breathing, but it was clear that the assassin was knocked unconscious, his weapon scattered on the floor and out of his hands as he lay there in a heap. Volbin carefully kicks the weapon aside, sending it spiralling into the shadows, before stepping closer.

 

There was a pause, absolute quiet, and then the assassin lunges at Volbin making an attempt to wrap his hands around his neck. Volbin lets out a strangled yelp as the assassins hand closes around his neck, until it turns into a growl as his body ripples and changes into that of an enormous bear. Volbin's new neck bulged, forcing the assassin's hands open as Volbin presses his own giant paws down on the man's neck. There was a soft, breathless noise escaping his cheat and his body went limp, his chest not moving and limbs dangling as Volbin held his body in his paws. Just to be sure, Volbin quickly broke the assassin's neck, sickening himself but ensuring the man was truly dead.

 

There was a sickening crack and from his body, somewhere in his robes fell a bright yellow gem, a simple stone of ordinary kind.  

Volbin shifted back into his regular form, doubling over and panting until he slowly regained control, and weakly grabbed for the stone. Azor pucks at the dress, finally able to find what he ha even looking for, a simple but bright yellow gem that was weightless and obviously not a real precious stone. Volbin grimaces, putting the stone to one side and further searched his body.

 

Azor pulls the item to the light, “This, little sister, is how father was able to find you. Hardly your fault.” Asch gently takes the item from him, looking at it with sad eyes, “Are we safe here any longer? Or... must Volbin leave his home because of... me.” Azor peers at her strangely “is it not your home?” Asch seems to colour darkly, about to respond, before Azor waves off any response she would have had to his question, “It should not. Best to leave here for some days until I can assure he doesn’t know. Magic like this is hard to create and harder to use still. Father did not come himself, so the assassin likely was the only person to have known the location.” Still his face turns sour, “it is possible the assassin reported back to father. We will have to wait for your husband to return- or wait to see if the assassin finished with him.” Asch is stuck again and does not hide how upset his words make her, but Azor has never softened anything in her presence.

 

Finding nothing on the body, Volbin hauled the body up and over his shoulder, before walking towards the main door, and letting it creak open. Asch rubs her supple lips together, worrying the gem between her fingers “s-should we look for Volbin?” Asch mutters, scared. Azor crosses his arms, shaking his head “No. Your husband wouldn’t be happy if I placed you in danger. Give me the gem. I will destroy it.” Asch passes it to him, swaying herself away from him toward master bed, staring out the window at the snowy wasteland while her eyes water over and tears slip down her cheeks. 

 

Over an hour passes, with no sign of Volbin, until a large shadow begins trudging towards the door. Asch sinks into the chair beside the end table where her dress lay limp. “I think.” Azor mutters, tracing the wooden floorboards with his eyes, “We should decide where you shall go now.” Asch’s gaze is full of sorrow, “I won’t return you to our father- but there is little here for you. I think you might do well in Ironforge.” There was a small, kind smile given to her, though he knows what he speaks of is painful, “It’s very warm there.” 

 

A loud bang resounds through the house as the front door slams shut.

 

Azor jerks, his hands alighting with druidic magic, “Go into the bath and shut the door.” Azor orders her quietly, standing firmly in front of the door, eyes never leaving the dark wood as he listens to her heels click hurriedly and the door shut sharply.

 

The door to the room swings open as Volbin shuffles in. Azor’s hands twitch, pausing, “Oh,” he says, “You’re alive.” Azor let’s his hands rest back down at his sides, “I thought the worst.” Volbin jolts, shaking his head, “No no," Volbin answered, "Everything was fine. Although may I talk to you for a moment outside?" Azor cocks a brow, surprised am that he was interested at all in such a thing, “Yes I suppose so. Would you like to see your wife before we do?” Volbin hesitates, thinking. "This should be quick, we needn't concern her just yet." Azor hums, rather intrigued “Ah, what is it?” Volbin simply nods at the door and leaves the room.

 

Azor follows soundlessly, carefully shutting the door behind him, following Volbin down the steps into the slightly lit area beyond. "There was an assassin," Volbin stated. “Yes I assume you handled that, evident that you are alive rather than he.” Azor says in a soft tone, seemingly amused. "Obviously," Volbin answered softly. "He had a crystal on him." Azor seems rather impressed, “Did it perhaps look like this?” Azor lifts his palm and opens it, exposing the yellow square shaped gem faintly glowing under the soft torch light. “It’s a rather complex type of magic.” He says, “I told my sister there shouldn’t be any worry but as a caution you should leave this place until I can deem it safe, best not trifle with any more assassins, hm?” Azor peers at his chest, looking at the rather bloody, nasty wound along his right breast and upper bicep, it faintly looked as if the blood was drying over the open wound, but still seemed painful and exposed.

 

Volbin nodded, "I didn't have the time to identify its purpose yet. I'll take Asch and keep her somewhere safe. How will you contact us?" Azor ponders for a moment, “Give me the gem I’ll dispose of it- if you would like you may stay at one of my many summer homes. I can easily meet you there or if you’d rather another place tell me and I will simply come to you after I am satisfied with the state of affairs.” Azor holds his other hand open to receive the gem like magical item, “Best destroy these.” Volbin shook his head, "I will contact you when I can. Until then we'll remain hidden." With that he dropped the gem into his hand and turned away. Azor looks at him dubiously, “How will you know how to contact me?” 

 

Volbin pauses a moment, "There's a wolf den about a quarter mile east of here. Leave a message at the entrance of that cave." Azor glances at him confused, slight concerned, “And you’ll risk checking it? How often? Did you consider that is exactly what my father would want?” Azor says, concerned “What if he also has spies lurking in the snow?” Volbin glares at home, "Yes," he starts, sarcastically, "Your father will know exactly what spot I have decided to deliver messages at. Even if he had a hundred spies out there anyways, none would see me coming or going." Azor rolls his eyes at his tone. “One of us has to paranoid for you because you seem to believe you cannot be found or killed. Nasty little business along your chest- but I’m sure the next damage to your person will be far more ugly and far more permanent.” Azor waves him off, “As you please then. It won’t be my fault if your widow shrivels up in her sadness.”

 

"Why be paranoid with an inconsequential risk?" Volbin said, walking out of the room. “With my father there is always a risk, but I admired the boldness.” Azor says as he leaves, not bothering to follow, instead leaving to his quarters.

 

A brief time later, Volbin enters his bedroom, and knocks on the bathroom door. “Azor?” Asch’s tiny voice came through the thick wood, terrified and full of anguish despite only saying one word. It was evident she was crying. "Guess again," Volbin answered softly. Beyond the door there wasn’t any sound, only the soft click of the lock and the careful opening. Though, Asch did not seem to be happy to see him, rather she became more upset and tears fell down her face, “I thought you were gone.” She mutters wetly, utterly and completely miserable and she grips the door frame with stresses fingers. Volbin stepped forward, swooping her into his arms before muttering into her hair, "I would never leave you."

 

Asch cries, holding onto him desperately, “y-you’re hurt,” she sobs, wrapping her arms around his waist, trying to be as close as she can to him. Volbin smiles slightly, "It's nothing, really." The wound on his chest throbbed badly, but eh wouldn’t show the pain he felt. “I-It doesn’t look that way!” Asch yelps, her hand brushing over it, “You’re still bleeding!” Her hand is painted with his blood, her fingers dripping slightly. “Volbin...” she mutters sadly. "I felt better the moment I saw your face," Volbin said, holding her close. “Let me dress it at least. It will only get would if you leave it like that,” Asch whispers, nudging her nose into his, year still falling down her face.

 

Volbin nods, "Very well then." Asch tugs his hand pulling him to the bathroom and setting him down firmly onto one of the plush chairs sitting in the bathroom, gathering her supplies from the linen. “I had thought you died. I was so worried for you.”

 

"I wouldn't leave you," Volbin stated, wincing slightly as he sat. Asch looks pained by his pain and hurries to clean his wound, “this might hurt a little-“ but she is as gentle as she could possibly be, kissing his forehead before running the cloth over his chest and arm, cleaning the dried blood and dirt. “It should heal soon- but it will leave a scar I think...” Volbin lets  out a soft chuckle, "Scars are no worry, I have plenty." 

Asch pouts slightly, “They are a worry to me.” There was a long look of displeasure, “W-What if something worse h-happens- if you- you lose...” Asch can’t seem to say it, instead she grips bis hand tightly, bringing his arm into an embrace, pressing the length of his forearm into her breast, looking terrified and rather upset at his attitude toward his scars and damages. Asch kisses his knuckles sweetly, “please don’t get hurt.” Volbin kisses her forehead, "I would never. Now Asch, I hate to say this, but we need to pack our things, we need to stay somewhere else for a short while."

 

Asch keeps his hand tight in her grasp, looking at him with confusion “Where would we go?” Asch asks, “How long will we be away from here?” Volbin considers her words, "I don't know how long," Volbin said softly, "But it won't matter so long as we're together." Asch smiles a bit sadly, nodding simply as she returns to dressing wounds, after she finishes Asch kisses his cheek softly, worrying her lip slightly. Volbin wraps his arms around her, and rests in that position, holding her close. Asch wraps her arms around his middle, nuzzling her face into the side of his neck, soft warm breathes escaping her. She kisses skin, mutter into his throat “Must we leave this very moment?” Volbin frowns softly, sadly "Soon, but not immediately," he answered quietly. 

 

“I-I’m s-sorry,” she murmurs into his skin, “t-this is a-all m-my f-fault and now y-you’re f-forced t-to l-leave your h-home.” Volbin hushes her, shaking his head quickly, 

"No no no," Volbin assured her. "It's never your fault." Asch looks away, her face coloured in shame, squirming a bit in his embrace. “W-What safe lives we could have had if we had not met.” Her eyes fill with tears, her hands lifting away from his skin to shake and ball into fists. "Safe isn't a life worth living without you," Volbin whispers. "I would face my death a hundred times before I faced a day without you." Asch nuzzles her nose into his, brows creased slightly “W-Where d-do you think it’s b-best for us t-to go?” Asch says, smiling a little at his words, attempting to feel better though his words meant so much, she cannot help but continue to feel terribly.

 

"Teldrassil," Volbin said, with only a moment's hesitation. "We can blend in there." Asch looks hesitant to agree, "That was where you sent m-me to b-before... was it not?" she pauses, frightened "Won't m-my father b-be looking t-there?" Volbin shook his head, "I have ways of concealing us from magic." He says firmly, “W-What about r-regular e-eyes? Would h-he not have spies there?” Asch pulls her face away from him, her brows scrunched tightly together In fear. "He might, but I can deal with spies," Volbin answered gravely. Asch bites her lip, still trying to think of anything she could say, but he seemed confident and it was not he place to argue, so she simply nods, realizing he of all people would know best. Asch tilts her head slightly downward, her hair falling over her shoulders, draping heavily around her cheeks. “Y-Yes o-of c-course,” she whispers, shaking once more.

 

Volbin pulls her close, "Now enough of these bad thoughts. I will keep you safe, I promise." Asch’s face twists again, unable to help herself, she nods against his cheek, keeping her worries now quiet, but unable to stop them from stewing in her mind. Volbin stands up, supporting her with him, before guiding her toward the bed to sit on the edge. Asch gasps softly, shocked at the suddenness, blinking wildly up at him wondering exactly what was going on. "It's time to pack now," Volbin said softly. “Oh- y-yes... I...” Asch trails off,  fixing her dress and standing to follow him to pack a few of their things, not really sure what she should pack to begin with. Volbin finds two mid sized leather packs,  placing one next to her and quickly throwing an odd assortment of clothing items and small items into his own. Asch packs what she believes she needs, her ears pressed tightly to her head in sorrow, thinking of horrible things that may never come to pass, wondering why now her father was so interested in her when he had never put much thought into her future before- of course she knows why. It was silly to wonder, but small parts couldn’t help but think if this had happened quite differently, that they could be happy and safe. Though Asch was not so foolish as that to believe she could have such things as this without terrible repercussions. Her reverie is broken by Volbin leaning over to kiss her on the head, pulling her close in an embrace.

 

Asch falls into him, letting him support her weight because she can barely do so now. The day was not half expired, yet she was exhausted. Asch lets herself feel the comfort of Volbin, hoping that she may begin to feel better. Volbin allows her weight to fall into his arms, picking her up and laying her down on the bed. "Rest now Asch," he whispers. "I will wake you when we must leave." Asch lets her eyes wander, watching him pull the blanket around her, “W-What will y-you do?” She whispers, partly curious, but mostly worried. "I will wait with you all the while, and be there when you wake," he softly answered. Asch is quiet for a moment, hesitant because she does not wish to burden him but agreed after some thought and nods her head lightly, finally closing her eyes and resting her head firmly onto the pillow, comforted by Volbin’s presence. Volbin strokes her hair quietly, content to lay against her. Slowly he eased up from the pillow, stopping to kiss her forehead and write a quick note, before leaving to find Azor.

 

Asch falls slowly alseep, struggling to rest as she tosses under the sheets, but stays in her fitful rest. Azor walks along the hall, peering at the lit fire as he examines the walls of the hall rather intently, seemingly gather something from it as anyone can tell. 

"Azor," Volbin's voice broke the night. Azor angles his head to look over his shoulder, looking at Volbin quickly before looking the walls, "I have always admired the savage Orcs and their craftsmanship. No wind, snow or cold comes through theses walls and it is made of rather simple materials." Azor says, seemingly intrigued. "I came to talk to you about the future, not architecture," Volbin stated. "Although it is quite the marvel," he admitted. Azor grins, “Always to the point aren’t you? Blunt and simple. I can understand why my sister might find you appealing.” Azor says, seemingly still being light hearted.

 

"Change of plans on how to contact us. There's a bear cave above the lip of the maw in Darkshore, leave a note hidden in the briar bush at it's entrance," Volbin said.

“I know of it.” Azor says, “I suppose you’ll be leaving now then?” Volbin shakes his head, "As soon as Asch wakes," Volbin replies. “You should rouse her, it’s quite late in the day already, best leave before it grows dark.” Azor says. Volbin sighs deeply, "I suppose you're right, I'll wake her soon.” Volbin looks around his home, admiring it just as Azor had been. “She was always a light sleeper if I remember.” Azor muses as Volbin begins to leave, returning to his viewing of the walls as he goes.

 

A few moments later, Volbin arrives at the bedroom. Asch was laying on her side of the bed rather stiffly, seemingly having trouble in her sleep. Furs were packed around her, but she was still shivering slightly as she lay under them. Cautiously Volbin approached, gently shaking her awake. Asch makes a small noise before her eyes open, though she does not look rested, she peers up at Volbin with tired eyes and attempts to smile. "How did you sleep my love?" Volbin asks. “I-It was fine I suppose,” Asch says quietly, lifting herself from the best of blankets, “I-Is it late?” Volbin hums, shaking his head "No no, not at all," Volbin said with a slight smile. Asch blinks sleep from her eyes, looking up at him while easing herself up from the bed. "Time to leave I suppose...?" she says quietly, saddened clearly. Volbin reaches a hand out, tilting her chin up to look at him, "It won't be that bad Asch, promise." "Are you ready?" Volbin asked, offering a hand. 

Asch nods carefully, letting her fingers slide onto his, her other hand lifting her dress slightly from her feet so she can walk.

 

Volbin walks her over to their bags, lifting both and turning to the doorway. Asch hates the feeling she has as they leave, she worries over whether or not what he’s carrying is too heavy, that she should help, but she knows it would only cause trouble. So Asch stays quiet, a little sad turn of her lip as they make their way down the steps. Volbin's free arm reaches out to wrap around her shoulders, holding her close as they walk together. “How long do you think it will be until we can return here?” Asch says softly to Volbin, feeling cold already as they get closer to the outside. "Until your brother sends word," Volbin replied. “That could be a very long time...” Asch says, and then adds, “what if we cannot return here?” Volbin squeezes her hand in his, "It doesn't matter where we are," Volbin softly answered. "So long as I'm with you." His words still seem to but unable to comfort her. This place had been Volbin’s home and she has felt like a pest that had forced him to leave because of its infestation. It was her carelessness that caused such trouble and she would do all she could to lessen the burden upon his shoulders, even if it meant  certain things could never come to pass. Her reverie is broken by Volbin lightly kissing her on the head, saying nothing as they continued to walk.

 

Chapter 171: Volbin au dabbles 9

Summary:

Volbin Swiftmoon/Asch Swiftmoon

So there is a small-ish? Time skip, it isn’t large o it shouldn’t matter that I say it lol

Anyway thanks for your patients I’m having a lot of personal things going on!
Enjoy!

Chapter Text

Asch winces as she stands from her seat, feeling the painful throbbing between her thighs and the ache digging into her back. Asch desperately attempts to hide her discomfort, but it is a miserable cover up. Before her many work to clean the area, one maid clears the table, while another hesitates and looks forlornly upon her lady. 

 

 

Asch does not recognize the emotions upon her face and straightens herself, looking every proper, and begins to leave the dinning hall, but the maid quickly follows, dropping her work and biting her lip. 

 

“My lady!” She calls in a sharp, hurried whisper, hands fisting her plain dress. Asch’s head turns, drawing her gaze toward the maid without an expression of any kind, though the maid can see tears welling in her eyes, likely from pain, possibly shame. It couple not be said. 

 

“Yes?” Asch says rather presently, blinking away the heavy tears back into her eyes, the maid hesitates, but then speaks, because she is partly bold, and partly remorseful “my lady I... see the state of the sheets- and the way you walk with a... limp-“ she screws her mouth shut as the elegant face before her is struck, with disbelief, shame and mortification, but she quickly continues “I- I can help you, if my lady wishes- I... know things that may... please our lord...” the maid watches colour invade her lady’s face, her mouth drawn tightly together and her eyes searching, growing rather suspicious and full of fury all at once “are you telling me that you’ve-“ “no!” The maid quickly squeaks, drawing her eyes to the floor “no my lady- I have not... my lord has never-“ “than how would you know how to... please him?!” She all but squeaks, a blotchy colour running across her perky nose. 

 

The maid herself shurgs lightly, blushing as she speaks “all men are the same, my lady.” Asch begins to blink, the look of embarrassment still readily across her features “I do not need advice on how to please my husband!” She snaps, trying desperately to keep her voice low and leveled, the maid nods quickly to her words, “yes my lady of course- but what of advice to please yourself?!” At this something had snapped inside of Asch, her shoulders drew up to her ears and her eyes grew wide, finally in a burst of movement Asch takes the maids wrist and pulls her along to an empty guest room. 

 

“You have certainly crossed the line!” Asch barks at her, swallowing harshly, the maid nods dumbly, “yes my lady I’m terribly sorry.” Asch fumes at her agreeableness “you are foolish! There is no pleasure in... in that-!” The maids face twitches, as if she wishes to say something, but instead says “yes my lady.” Asch frowns, twisting her dress in her hands before barely speaking louder than whisper, “is there...?” The maid gathers herself smiling softly, one of pity, but also of envy. 

 

“There is, my lady. If you know how.” Asch’s face loses all its fury to thoughtfulness, the maid continues, “I can teach you- if it please you my lady...?” Asch looks at her, unsure of what to make of her words, “once you’ve healed, of course.” Asch feels her brows decline, scrunch in confusion and thought, “I will bother you no longer my lady,” The maid says, and Asch let’s her go, still hearing her words. 

 

 

The day drew into night and still, Asch feels puzzled by the maid, there was no pleasure in such a thing- not for wives, she knew this... but the maid seemed convinced this wasn’t true. How could she know? What did she know? If Asch dared do something so improper as to ask such a thing, what would she be told? 

 

Volbin was beside her, eating dinner and discussing his work, something Asch would have payed attention too eagerly if not for her clouded head. “Your mother and father are visiting soon,” Volbin strikes her from thought with his words, “are they?” He nods aimlessly, swallowing before he speaks “to finalize shipments.” Asch bites her lip, mother wouldn’t be happy with her, Asch had yet to produce any kind of heir and it had nearly been a year since her marriage to Volbin. 

 

Asch had continued to eat her food, swallowing it without tasting until she had finished and Volbin was long done with his own, but stayed as company, Asch had thought he would hurry away to his work, but it surprised her when he presented his arm. Asch without much choice took it and Volbin lead them into their private sitting quarters and up the steps to their bedroom. Asch could not hold focus throughout the night, but once they were alone there was a haunting feeling inside as Volbin begun to pull the ties free from her dress, leaving her in a simple nightdress, nearly all the while sucking her neck and nibbling her ear.

 

Volbin pulls them to the bed, pulling his linens over head and a tossing them in a pile with her dress before manhandling Asch under the sheets and on her belly. Asch feels his hands pull her hips up until her knees brace underneath her. Asch gasps in pain, feeling her thighs ache as he pounds into her without ceremony. Asch feels tears come to her eyes and quickly swallows the whine of pain that threatens to ease from her throat.

 

“Shh,” Volbin mutters, hips grinding into her ass as his cock thrusts inside of her. Asch lays there petrified in shock as her body is bent in a curve, mouth forced againt the pillows and breasts pressed flat into the furs. Asch feels him groan softly into her hair as his hands tighten around her sides, keeping her still. Asch whimpers gently as he continues to pound into her, the sound of his hips smacking into her backside deafening. Asch can feel his hot breath right against her skull as he grunts, frustration clearly in the sound of it. Asch gasps sharply as her ass is pushed roughly, Volbin leans over her more harshly than before causing her spine to protest from the curve. 

 

Asch breathes frantically into the pillow, eyes wide and unsettled as his cock hammers between her legs, Volbin let’s a long, agitated snarl free of his mouth before he stills, forcing her ass higher while also keeping her head directly in place. Asch can feel his warm cum spill directly inside of her, his cock angrily gushing as he shallowly thrusts it inside, as if to force his finish deeper, there was so much of it filling her. Volbin draws from her and he pulls her nightdress into his hand, wiping his cock before throwing it back, Asch felt it flutter wetly up her back and shivers at the feeling

 

Suddenly he rolls off of her and Asch, too shocked to move stays still for the moment, feeling the freezing air hit her back as she now slowly sinks into the bed, letting her knees tremble back together and back ache. Asch doesn’t dare look over at her husband and clutches the pillow to her with sweaty hands. She can hear him panting, still awake as she lays there, embarrassed at her exposer. Asch can feel the weight of his cum ooze from her and slide down the front of her cunt and coat the entirety of it before dripping down onto the bed from the apex of her cunt. 

 

Asch feels her night dress bunch around her ribs and feels to weak to fix it, but to mortified to not. Before she can try however Volbin pulls the furs from the bottom of the bed and throws it over them both, and just as quickly, falls asleep. Asch has come to know the sound of it by now, he lets a great, peaceful sigh escape his nose and his whole body settles, like a rope finally allowed to slack, or a muscle unwind. Asch eyes him from the side, worried her gaze would somehow wake him up. His back is turned toward her, his blue skin darker than usual from the shadows and covered in a thin sheen of sweat. His hair was tousled and unkempt like the sea, soft looking as it always was. 

 

Asch knew she could not leave the bed to clean herself, no matter how uncomfortable the feeling of it sliding down her made Asch feel. It was thick and heavy, like if she stood up it would all escape down her legs in a rush. For now with the way she laid, It pooled in the deepest part of her belly like a weight. Asch idly wondered if this may finally get her pregnant, her father would be pleased. Asch had failed for almost the first year of their marriage to do so and people begun to gossip about it. Asch dares not bother her husband with such a thing however, did not assume to command him of anything, especially not this. Asch would wait as he pleased, like tonight and lay there with her belly full and hope as she let it stew inside that this time would be it. 

Asch turned her face to the other side, staring at the wall before closing her eyes. 

 

The morning she woke to an empty bed, as always. Asch rolled to his side, feeling the cool sheets before sighing up to the ceiling. She threw the blankets from herself and stood on shaky legs, gripping the bannister of their bed so she would not crumple to the floor. Both her legs and back ached badly as she stood to her tallest height, as any proper lady would and suppressed a noise as her bones cracked loudly. Asch pulls her nightdress back into place, staring at the wrinkles. 

 

Asch heard a knock from the door and heard her maids behind it, Asch allowed them in and two begun cleaning the mess they found. Asch watches them take the furs from the bed and sees the stain where she slept. Embarrassment flooded her, but they said nothing. Asch retreats to the bathroom adjoined to their bedchambers and doesn’t show how badly she aches before shutting the door, quickly she cleans the dried mess from her thighs and shivers as more floods from her insides escape massaging it away carefully. The throb between her legs was painful, but manageable if she was gentle. Soon her maid has knocked and opened the door, producing two dresses she thought would suit her lady this day.

 

Asch does not really look at what she picks and the maid helps her dress, finally realizing the colour was a beautiful shiny teal, as she pets the bell of her dress, she’s oddly stuck with the reminder of her husbands hair and felt a fondness wash over her.

 

The maid fixes her hair into place, wrapping little jingling bells into her hair and giggling as the flowers fall around her hands. Asch braids a small strand of hair by her face, weaving a silk teal tie into it and the maid fixed a bell into the bottom of it before tying it. Asch was not keen on wearing any heel and picked a flat shoe, one that matched her dress and she looks upon herself before leaving the rooms. 

 

But Asch cannot think as she walks the halls,  feeling her legs ache under her, the pain ripples inside of her, biting her lip she finally stops, coming to the grand stairs, she touches the wooden railing, tapping her fingers along it as she thinks, not for the first time about what that maid said to her. Huffing quietly, Asch hurried up the stairs, toward the dinning room where most of the servants were working. 

 

They watch her as she glares at each with scrutiny, bowing as she comes close until she finally comes upon the maid who does not cower under her sharp gaze. “My lady,” she mutters, bowing as Asch stares, “come with me.” The maid does not hesitate, following behind her until Asch finds another guest room, one that looked just as the last one they met it. 

 

“What- what i-is there... to-to teach...?” Asch struggles to say, face turned from the maid and coloured pink. “Many things my lady,” she smiles, taking Asch’s hands and guiding her to the bed to sit “how does he take you, my lady?” Asch flinches away, “that’s that’s-“ “my lady I only wish to help, on you back? Your side?” At each question the maid watches her, “your belly?” At the last she sees Asch’s eyes dart away. The maid smiles and pets her hands “men fuck like beasts-“ Asch sputters, eyes wide at her words, but the maid laughs “they do, my lady.” She nods “they take pleasure between our legs and care little for our pleasure.” The maid pulls herself fully on the bed, folding her legs underneath her “show me.” Asch leans away, watching the maid sit up on her knees “w-what?!” 

 

The maid giggles, pulling her hair behind her neck, “show me- lay before me as if I was your husband.” Asch looks as if she was incased in ice, frigid and terrified “please my lady, I will tell no one, I only wish to see you happy.” This seemed to melt her. Asch’s eyes draw to the bed and despite how ridged she appears, Asch moves into the pillows. The maid watches her lay flat on the bed, than with utter mortification, she lifts her hips until she is braced on her knees. The dress she wore hid everything indecent and the maid ponders, watching her face bury into the pillows, fingers clenching the fabric. 

 

 

“My lady,” the maid reaches for her face, cradling her cheek “men cannot be controlled, but you are not a whore.” Asch frowns, and the maid can feel the heat from her face “look at your husband, let him see your face.” Asch nods against her hand, resting her cheek into the pillow as her eyes follow the maid, who gets behind her and touches her hips with firm hands. “What do you call him?” Asch opens her mouth but is too shocked to speak as the maid pressed her front against Asch’s behind, “my lady?” “I-I...” She sputters, “my lo-lord...” the maid tisks swirling her hips, commanding Asch’s body to press back into her and “no, say his name.” Asch shakes her head “that- that isn’t proper!” 

 

The maid pets her hips, cooing sweetly “he is your husband, not your lord. Say his name, my lady.” Asch’s lips press tightly together and they sit in silence for an age before Asch finally mutters, “V-Vol-Volbin-“ “again, my lady.” 

 

 

“Vol-Volbin...” panicked.

 

“Again.” Persistent. 

 

“Volbin!” 

 

Suddenly the hands on her hips are pulling her into the others lap, Asch squeaks, surprised and colouring as the hands wander around her ribs “men hate being controlled, you must guide his hands, nudge him gently to what you want and he will give it thinking it was his idea. Where do you wish to be touched?” Asch shakes in her grasp, unsure of what to do, “place your hands on mine, thread your fingers between mine.” Asch forces herself to let go of her dress, presses her hand atop the maids, letting her fingers fall between the gaps, “touch him, always, my lady.” Asch feels both their hands shake badly, but the maid does not direct her and Asch bites her lip, shrinking a little in her grasp. 

 

 

“Here my lady?” The maid takes their hands and cups her breasts through the fabric of her dress, which causes Asch to squirm “men love touching them, staring, licking.” Asch jolts, face turning away from the other, “does it feel nice, my lady?” Asch squirms in her lap, biting her lip, surprised at the sounds trying to escape her throat and the heat pooling in her belly, “press into my hips, my lady.” The maid places their hands on Asch’s pelvis, making her rock and swirl her hips, grinding Asch’s bottom into her lap. “You can do this in any position, my lady, it will bring you some pleasure, but the most is here-“ one of her hands presses between her thighs, Asch yelps, squeezing her thighs together “that’s-“ “shh, my lady, let me show you.”

 

Asch gulps, worries but parts her legs slightly, pulling her hand from Asch’s she takes Asch’s wrist and manoeuvres her fingers just so, Asch gasps, feeling her cunt clench and twitch. “See my lady?” She removes her hands, allowing Asch to slide from her lap, gasping. “H-how do you... kn-know such... things...?” The maid smiles, “I did not grow up with the expectations of a lady, my lady.” Asch plays with her dress, stressing it between her fingers, “what... what more can you t-teach m-me...?” 

 

 

Volbin eyes Regulous without interest, “you’ve arrived early and late. My lord.” Regulous looks amused by his words, sitting in the seat beyond the front of his desk, “my wife insisted we come tonight, I do hope we did not disturb you too much.” His smile quickly turned into a smirk, “ever eager to see my only daughter.” Elia says dryly, holding her head high and nose upturned with a barely concealed look of disgust as she paces around Volbin’s office. “If you wish to see her I will have escorts take you-“ “no I will stay here.” She snaps, despite her obvious loveliness, Volbin detested her. “Annika, you will go and fetch my daughter and present her.” Annika quickly nods, “yes my lady of course!” 

 

 

Volbin frowns, letting the paper in his hands slack “she’s likely sleeping.” At this Elia laughs, daintily but full of venom “improper as ever.” Volbin sighs quietly, rolling his eyes as Regulous chuckles quietly “and how is my improper daughter?” Elia snaps her gaze to the back of her husbands head, glaring at him for mocking her words. “She’s been no trouble.” Regulous looks rather proud, smiling pleasantly as he taps his finger against the arm of his chair “delightful, I knew she wouldn’t be.” Volbin hears the clicking of Elia’s heels and twitches in agitation “I have heard you have lost business and that she is still without child.” Regulous eyes his wife from the side, Volbin leans back in his chair, letting his displeasure show upon his face as regards Elia, but the woman before him does not shrink from his gaze, “has your work impeded your ability to do you duty, as I have heard?” Regulous sighs heavily through his nose, angrily glaring at his wife “enough, women, do not impose yourself worthy of lecturing us upon the opinion of sheep just because you delight in gossip.” Elia jumps in her spot, pure rage and distaste clear on her face, but she bites her jaw together and does not speak.

 

Regulous waves his hand sharply, “get out. This is no place for women as is.” Elia looks absolutely hateful but hurries out with great dignity. Volbin raises his brow at the exchange, but Regulous seems hardly interested “now, where were we?” 

 

 

Asch gasps as her legs are yanked around the maids waste, “men will always be rough, my lady,” the maid leans in closely, caging her arms next to Asch’s head, “does he have you this way?” Asch nods timidly, knees squeezing into the others sides, “touch him, men like to be touched.” Asch presses her hands on her shoulders, rubbing them up and down her arms “yes very good my lady.” 

 

The maid pulls away, sitting up as she holds underneath Asch’s thighs, “do not hide yourself from his gaze, men love to watch.” Asch nods, still nervous and greatly embarrassed, but meets her eye and before the maid can speak the illusion is shattered. 

 

Without any warning the door swings open, and from it another maid stumbles, eyes wide and shocked, the maid scurries away from Asch, who flies up from the bed and stares. The maid says nothing and darts from the open door and Asch rushes to follow her, “st-stop!” She screams, but the girl does not listen “st-sto-“ The words die in her throat as she halts on the grand staircase, “mother?!” She feels dread fill her stomach as the maid whispers into the ear of her mother ear, all the while her mother does not pause to blink as she stares at Asch. 

 

The maid leans away from her mother and barely turns her head, blinking once and then her glare stiffened “improper indeed.” 

 

 

Asch feels her heart sink “it’s not what you think!” She all but wails, barely able to stop herself from crying. Elia pulls her dress and walks into three steps before stopping “I knew you would disgrace this family, I had not thought you would behave like a whore.” Asch sputters, unable to form words as her mother continues, “your father paid a great sum for you to marry this man and you repay that kindness by spreading your legs-!” She snarls with poise, despite the scrunch in her brow. 

 

“You foolish little whore how dare you-“ “that’s enough!” Elia spins around, furious until she sees Volbin and her husband, then her face stretches into a cruel smile “Elia what is the meaning of this?!” Regulous hisses, looking utterly debased and completely in shock. “Go on Annika, tell them what you have found.” From the bottom of the steps Annika stands with purpose, neither afraid or bashful as she speaks “I found lady Asch underneath one of her maids, it appeared as if she was being pleasured by her.” Asch cannot see Volbin’s expression clearly, but her father looks up in disbelief “this cannot be true!” He says, “it isn’t!” Asch screams, looking directly at her husband, who does not meet her gaze “it’s not what you think-“ “enough!” Volbin snarls “I- I My lord-“ “do not speak!” He snaps, finally looking upon her face, clear rage and fury Asch has never seen before. Without another word Volbin disappears, heading in the familiar direction of his office. 

 

 

Asch feels her legs collapse under her and sink harshly into the floor, making a booming sound among the silence, tears now begin to fall quietly down her face and Elia curls her lip as she looks at her daughter, crumpled upon the floor “I’m sure your father will allow you home, but you are no daughter of mine.” Regulous watches his wife saunter up the stairs and passed her daughter. 

 

Without a moments hesitation Regulous climbs the stairs two at a time, dropping to his knee “it- it wasn’t- I didn’t-“ “shh don’t speak.” Regulous sighs as he carries his daughter from the ground, helping her stand again “you need to bathe and rest.” Regulous knows little of what to do, but thankfully Asch’s maids are not far and they take their lady. Regulous watches them leave until he can no longer see them and promptly stalks to the room Volbin had prepared for them, easily finding his wife being undressed by her maids.

 

“You speak of proper and than call your daughter a whore in front of her husband?!” Elia looks rather disinterested as her dress is peeled from her body “you allow her too much freedom-“ “if you open your mouth and speak your vile words any longer your freedoms will be taken!” Elia frowns foully at him, “you have little to no compassion for her and allow your maid to spout her lies, about your own child, how dare you!” Regukous glares at the maids around them, “get out! All of you-!” Quickly the four women surrounding her dart from the room, terrified of their lord. 

 

 

“They are hardly lies-“ “do you know them to be true? Did you see it with your own eyes? Do you know what you have done?!” Elia scoffs, stepping from her clothes and plucking her earrings, undressing herself now that her help was dismissed “what I have done? What your daughter has done! She fails in her only duties daily and I am at fault because she was caught with her legs open for another?” Elia draws to her full height, still smaller than her husband, but eyes him none-the-less. “You paid him twice her worth, you should be far more angry than I. It is your alliance now crippled because of her, it is your daughter that will be sent home and disgraced, It is you that shall deal with the whispers!”  

 

 

Elia continues to glare at her husband, snapping “the little that was asked of her, she did not do, now with no child and this disgusting event you have no claim upon his wealth and surely he will dissolve their marriage and once the night is over we will return tomorrow with her in tow, but it is I that has slighted you,” her voice dips into sarcasm with the last of her words, hardly caring of the cruelty she spits. 

 

Regulous eyes his wife, but no longer speaks in defence of Asch.

 

 

When she fell asleep was a mystery, but Asch awoke to darkness. Her face felt puffy and dry from crying. Asch dumbly reaches out across the bed and is both surprised and not to feel nothing beside her. As her eyes adjusted she realized this wasn’t her room and suddenly she clambers from bed, frightened and confused. Navigating the halls was a small problem, but soon she found her way into the part of the mansion she recognized, quickly padding across the marble and carpet making hardly a sound. Once she found her way to the grand doors of her bedroom Asch tried to open it, but discovered the handle wouldn’t budge. 

 

“My.. m-my lord...?” She calls timidly, gulping as she heard no sound beyond it, “my... lo-lord?” A little louder this time, but still silence only met her. Asch stood out there for some time, hands touching the door and staring at the wood. Asch finally forced herself to turn, pulling her nightdress down her thighs suddenly feeling cold and alone inside the private living room. 

 

 

Asch swallows a sob, lip quivering as she runs from the door, tears streaming down her face as she rips open the first door she sees, collapsing into the floor in a pile. Asch curls into a ball, wailing in misery until she could only hiccup. Asch felt her stomach churn, she had been a fool and she should not have listened to that maid, who now wasn’t anywhere to be found, likely fired and thrown away, the fate that would surely befall herself in mere hours from now. Her husband had not liked her in the beginning, but even then he still allowed her to sleep beside him. Asch hiccups loudly, crying anew she should have not pretended she could have more, mother had been right, she had always been right. 

 

Asch should have insisted upon her own quarters and did as she was told and not dare assume she could do anything else. Why had she listened to that girl? Why did she believe any of it? What would she do now? 

 

Everyone would know now what had happened, whatever they believed would be twisted and from a simple misunderstanding into an affair with another man. 

 

Asch begun to wonder what would become of her after the sun had risen, would she even see her husband? Or would she just hear about his decision and leave with her parents? Who would she be given to next? Asch felt sick at the images her mind began to conjure the men she had met who were far worse than her husband now. 

 

Asch barely made it to the bed and clung to the unfamiliar pillow, desperately trying to take comfort in it’s cold weight, shivering like always and missing her husbands warm embrace and hot breath. 

 

 

Volbin cannot concentrate and it was fairly obvious to those around him, by now it had gotten out and rumours already begun to churn around him, even as he sat in his office, where no sound of the outside could slither inside, he still heard voices echoing around him. His weapons master was watching him cautiously, glaring at the weapon still unfinished, which had been that way since he arrived an hour ago. 

 

Without much ceremony the weapons master sighs and takes the dagger in front of his lord, placing it to the side “My lord.” He says, a little too commanding, but Volbin did not seem to care as his eyes snap toward him, nearly the rest of him frozen in place like that of a stone statue. “If you do not finish these orders it will reflect badly upon you.” Volbin’s face grows dark, a look he has seen quite often, but instead of yelling at him as usual, Volbin leans into his chair, shattering the stone like illusion. 

 

The weapons master did little to push his luck, but he continues “you must finish this, you will lose business...” Volbin’s mouth is hidden partly behind his fist, his arm bent upward on the rest, barely paying attention, which irritates his weapons master “they will believe the rumours, my lord.” There is something flashing in Volbin’s eyes, something frightening and dark as his gaze brought to the other “what rumours?” His voice was measured and angry, far too controlled than the other thought and it made him squirm where he stood. 

 

At first lots of the rumours were juvenile, hardly worth the time it took to listen to them, but the weapon master did incase anyone truly believed them. It started when Volbin first married Asch, how he would neglect his business because of his pretty young wife, but he did not. Then as months stretched on people begun to whisper and laugh about how he could not get her pregnant, those were rightfully malicious and dangerous to their work, which the weapons master tried to rectify quickly. 

 

Now the next rumour would surly destroy the empire that had been built, he had already heard some of the things being said by servants, how pathetic it was their lord could not control his wife, how laughable it truly was. Soon it would get out that Volbin could not control his woman- so how could he control a business? 

 

The weapons master gulps noisily, shaking his head “I have not heard them directly, my lord.” A lie, it was painfully obvious and Volbin seemed very aware it was, “it will only be a matter of time before it gets out, you must show that your work is not impeded by... what has happened.” There was a wounded look, one that seemed both angry and longing. “It would take little effort to discard her, my lord.” He says confidently, nodding at his own idea “you have little use for a wife, and I’m sure lord Regulous will be too ashamed to collect her dowry. Let her become another mans burden.” The weapons master had been so sure that this what his lord wished to hear that he was smiling as he pulled the correct papers from his stack, sliding them toward his lord. 

 

But he had not noticed the deepening shadow that begun to cast over his lords face at each word that escaped his mouth. “You advise strength, but produce the weakest option.” At the tone of his lords voice the weapons master shrinks, shaking as he watches Volbin carefully pick the papers up, regarding them with shackled fury. “Tell me. What looks weak to you? Is it a man so frightened of rumors that he dissolves his marriage, allowing his wife to be given to a man who has the strength to control her?” Volbin throws the papers aside, they flutter wildly onto the floor “or is it the snivelling little cunt before me that dares assume he can command his lord anything?!” 

 

 

The weapons master feels his back sink into the chair, “but- but my lord she will ru-ruin you!” Volbin looks furious, “then I best control her, shouldn’t I?” At his words the other nods, “fire the rest of her maids, find her a suitable room and do not allow her to leave the grounds.” Volbin yanks the dagger from the side of his desk, fist straining with effort and the weapon master watches it come to life with a beautiful green glow, Volbin throws it into his lap, which causes him to scream “get out.” 

 

 

Volbin had felt drained of all energy once he had finished, it was late in the night and the house was dark, the only light the moon, but even that was blanketed by clouds. Volbin pulled the keys from his belt and held his breath as he opened the door to his bedroom as an utterly strange feeling came upon him, one that was both lonely and churning with pain. Asch was no where to be found, as he knew she wouldn’t be, he instructed the door be locked well before the sun had set. Still, once he ventured inside he could smell his wife’s scent clinging to every crack in the room, his eyes dulled as familiar, usually welcoming scent invaded his lungs. 

 

His gaze came across the bed, which was made and looked untouched for hours. Volbin came to its side and touched the furs, looking across its surface until his eyes wander to Asch’s side of the bed, Volbin had become accustom to the bed being unmade, his little wife sleeping under the mountain of furs, somehow finding more and throwing them across the bed. Volbin had found it endearing, now desperately missed it as he pulled the single blanket of fur from under the pillows. Despite being exhausted he could not bring himself to lay down and promptly released the blanket and stepped away from the bed. 

 

Usually Asch would have all of the doors open in their room, the bathroom would be lit with a few candles and the closet would be wide open, but now all of the doors were closed and Volbin could not stand it. Quickly, while his heart beat painfully in his chest Volbin opens both of the doors, finding no sign of life or homeliness he had before. Darkness stretched over his features as he looked upon the closet, mostly occupied with his wife’s things, dresses and shoes and all manner of other items. Volbin looked around at the shelves and suddenly found where his wife had been getting the extra blankets. 

 

In a shelf above her shoes, tucked away nicely were the furs, stacked atop one another in a neat pile. Volbin brushes his hand along the side of them before yanking them down. Volbin throws them upon his bed and unfolds them carelessly, attempting to match what his wife so easily created. To no anvil it did not make him feel better and they did not look as cozy as they did when Asch was there. 

 

Volbin collapses into the bed, feeling the weight of the day release him, but sleep does not come easily and he cannot stop thinking about his wife. 

 

 

Morning he struggled greatly, his eyes opened only to find no one beside him and there was no one to knock at the door to signal the day had begun. Volbin never had people interrupt him before, his weapons master knew better than to have anyone wake him up, but that had always been that way. His habits before and during the beginning of his marriage were terrible, he would work into the early hours and sleep for barely enough time, knowing this no servants attempted to wake him, knowing he would not respond kindly. But Asch’s maids did not allow their lady to sleep late and Volbin had risen with his wife as well as fall asleep. 

 

 

Volbin waited, laying there wondering maybe someone would come and knock upon his door, but of course nothing came of it and Volbin sighed, rubbing his face before heaving himself from the bed. Volbin quickly dressed and left his room and was surprised to find his weapons master standing in the private living quarters, “good morning my lord,” he said pleasantly, pretending as if last night didn’t happen at all. “Lord Cinnis and his wife await you in the dinning room,” Volbin eyes the doors beyond the living room, now realizing why they had been closed in the first place. 

 

“Fine-“ Volbin snaps his wrist, the pangs of irritation rising within him, “shall I have your wife called upon to attend?” Volbin did not miss the way he chose his words and promptly glares at the other “my wife, meaning she is still your lady-“ he watches with a little satisfaction as the man deflated, growing nervous “and no. She is not to leave her chambers.” The weapons master nods quickly, “we have found suitable rooms for.. my lady... she will not bother you any longer.” Volbin felt his chest empty as the other spoke, “right here, if it please you?” In his hand was a lay out of the main floor, a little red circle around one of the guest rooms far down the left hall. Volbin swallows dryly as he looks at it, but does not let his pain show “yes- fine, see it done.” He pauses, then says “have her things removed before I return.” The weapon master simply bows in response as Volbin passes him, pushing the doors open to the dining hall. 

 

 

Regulous was already sitting in the chair left of Volbin’s, Elia fuming at his side, “good morning my lord,” Regulous inclines his head, Volbin nods his greeting, face tight. “Have you made a decision about our daughter yet?” Elia snaps without ceremony, Regulous seems to grow agitated by his wife, but Volbin for once appreciates her impatience. “Yes. I have.” Volbin says without sitting “she is my wife and will continue to stay as such.” Both seemed surprised at his answer, but it is Elia once again who speaks “why?” Volbin licks his lips, glaring between the two of them “I made a vow,” he says simply, “stay if you wish, but our deal is finalized.” Volbin does not leave any room for them to speak to him more, which he knew they would, but he cannot stomach it any longer and swiftly escapes, heading toward his office. 

 

 

Asch had not bothered to leave the bed she lay in, and no one seemed bothered enough to wake her. In truth she had been up for hours, dreading the moment someone would retrieve her and tell her she was to leave with her parents. Despite her fear Asch could no longer wait in the agony of her own making and slid from the bed. Asch had none of her clothes so she took the dress she had worn yesterday and struggled to tie it on, but did her best before combing her hands through her hair and turning to the door. 

 

When she opened it she found a man she had never come to know, standing in the bulk of the door way with his back to her. “Yes...?” She says, confused. The man turns his head but does not move out of the way “you are not to leave this room my lady.” He says and nothing else. “But I-I need to see my... my hus-husband...” she tries, but the man still does not move “it is our lords command that you are not to leave this room.” Asch felt her heart sink from her chest, her ears droop and her face falls, “oh...” she mutters, miserable once more. 

 

Before Asch closes the door however, hurried steps reach her ears “Ah- hold a moment my lady-“ Asch cannot see passed the guard in her door, but recognizes the voices owner to be Volbin’s weapon master “what- what’s going on?” Asch dares to ask, knowing that she very well did not want the answer. “I am here to escort you to your new quarters, if you please follow me.” Asch felt tears come to her eyes and does not bother to stop them from escaping down her cheeks as the weapon master regards her, his face unchanged despite her turmoil “My lady if you will?” He says, but this time does not wait and begins to walk from her door. The guard pauses a moment then steps from the entrance. Asch feels like a child again and looks at her feet as she struggles to keep up with the weapons master, tears steaming down her face all the while. 

 

 

Asch follows them passed the grand hall, where she had hoped they may run into Volbin, but to her utter dismay they run into her parents, her mother has them stop, a sneer on her face “you have been given more than you deserve, you little whore.” Her father does not look at her and raises no voice to defend her and Asch has never felt so alone. 

 

Where they take her is in part of the mansion she had never been too, the halls were dark and clean, but no life was in this part of the house at all. They take her to the very end of the hall and the weapon master opens the door, which reveals a mess of her things scattered all across the room and floor. “If you please my lady?” He gestured her inside and Asch jumps when the door is slammed behind her. Asch bends to pick up one of the dresses thrown on the floor and it is not lost on her that this was purposefully done, but as she begins to haul her things from the floor to the bed just to clear the space, and just then she notices another dress.

 

Asch quickly discards all the things in her arms and rushes to pick the dress from the floor, sniffling as she tries to find any damage. Volbin had given this to her, one of the two things he had ever. It had matched the necklace perfectly. It was a beautiful thing, simple in design but shimmered in the light. Volbin had called her beautiful when he saw her in it. 

 

Asch is careful when she places it in the closet, smiling around her tears, desperately trying to feel something other than her own sadness. “I-It’s okay...” She says aloud to herself, wanting so much to believe it “th-this... this is h-how its suppose t-to be.” Asch finds no comfort in herself, but tries anyway. Asch does everything she can to make the room feel like something other than a prison, messing the bed up and filling it with pillows and blankets, putting her dresses in order of darkest to lightest, than redoing it to make a rainbow. It wastes the day, but does nothing to help. 

 

Something inside of her feels better, at least, when she looks upon the room and it is clean, but now with nothing to occupy her mind she is helpless to her sorrow. Asch does not care to hide her cries, moaning now like a wounded animal, knowing there was seldom anyone to hear it, even less to care. 

 

There is only one other person to come to her that day, a servant who does not look at her face and gives her dinner, Asch had looked at it and felt no hunger and let it grow cold upon her table, instead she sits, staring at the dark wall, her cries had died away in her throat, now she sat in utter silence, wondering if it was late now or still early. 

 

Asch was hardly tired, but she could think of little else to do to pass the time, so she lays in her new bed, feeling cold as usual and sleeps, falling into utter despair.

Chapter 172: Illidan omegaverse dabbles 9

Summary:

Illidan Stormrage/Asch Cinnis

Holy god I’m so sorry it’s taken me a whole month to update, with the virus going around and school work and taking care of myself it’s been really rough. I’m gonna try to update again without such a delay, but for now please enjoy this and thanks for keeping in tune!

Chapter Text

Asch did not like waiting, she was not very good at it. Asch could no longer just sit as she waited for Illidan to be finished his duties, it must not be much longer now, but Asch was just terrible at waiting. 

 

Their room was secluded, usually locked from intruders, but Asch could leave as she pleased. Most times she had no cause to bother, but now it felt like she had. Asch dresses in soft grey robes, they keep the heat from her skin while not adding to her suffering. Asch hikes her skirts up and is devious for a moment as she slips her hands under her panties and slides them down her legs, leaving them in the middle of their floor for Illidan to find once he returns. 

 

Asch would lead him along a chase, he would return here and find her missing with only a piece of soft underthings as his clue. Asch knew he may be cross with her, he did not often entertain the idea of her walking the temple because of all the hunters below. Most were Alpha’s in their own right, some never having mates and others having lost theirs. Asch would be the most divine thing to them, uncaring of her Alphas marks. Asch would be careful not to venture where she should not go, avoid those who would ignore Illidan’s claim. 

 

Asch felt excited as she hurried along, giddy as she thought of his reaction, a powerful snarl, his chest puffing out and wings twitching with his expression, she could imagine what he would do when he found her. 

 

His voice rough with scolding and scent frothing with lust. His hands pulling her into his mighty frame- just thinking about Illidan taking her against the wet stone walls- nipping her skin and squeezing her bottom. Asch had thought about this many times, bent over with her dress rifled up to her belly, the thought of being caught terrified her but the thrill of it slightly outweighing. Illidan would have none of it she knew, he would put her over his big shoulder and carry her off, maybe walk his way to their chambers and embarrass her when all temples inhabitants gawked their way, giving her a taste of the humiliation she may feel if someone caught her in his lap, spread on his knot.

 

Illidan was sweet enough and indulged most anything, he preferred their bed she knew this, but he did not protest various other places- so long as it was not far from the nest. The bath was a most delightful place to entice him, the water steaming and the tub wide as it was long. Asch could at least somewhat pretend when he bent her over the warm and wet tiles that they were the edge of the temple terrace. 

 

Asch was the only thing around the area, she walked and the sound of her bear feet echoed across the chamber, making her feel ever so small and a bit terrified. It wasn’t until she came to the very end of it that she heard voices, deep and hissing ones. It was a group of demon hunters, all irritated by their scents and rather unkept in their rage. One of them had his arms crossed, something that reminded Asch of Illidan, though his skin was a pale blue and his hair was green. He appeared the most aggravated and it stung Asch’s nose and made her eyes water. 

 

“Such a waste of time,” he barks, his voice nasty and loud. One another, a purpled hair demon hunter regards him, not so equally angered, but hardly amused. “Is it?” The other mocks him, hissing. The third, a black haired elf scoffs, “Jealous?” The green haired demon hunter snarls sharply, and too the Alphas it does nothing, but to Asch it nearly forces her to the floor, she evades doing so by gripping the pillar, too curious to leave now. 

 

“Jealous? Of what? That wet whore lord Illidan has at his beck and call? Hardly.” Asch’s chest sinks, her ears wilt and she pressed a hand to her mouth to keep silent a gasp of shock. The black haired hunter scoffs in an exhausted manner, his shoulders rolling “As if you wouldn’t want an Omega bending over for you at the flick of your wrist.” The green haired demon hunter snarls darkly at this, “She’s a distraction- she’s distracting him from our goal.” Asch’s stumbles back, lips quivering as she grips the wall behind her, listening to them fade in the background and sneer at her a little longer before she can muster any movement. 

 

And she bolts.

 

Asch bolts, and skids, and pants desperately. She cannot stop until she finds herself at the very top of the temple, and then she collapses. Tears fall down her face and beat into the ground, Asch clutches her arms to her body and she exhales brokenly. The world seemed to pause, her breath the only sound, until the very voice she had not wanted to hear came through her paused world and said; 

 

“Asch?” 

 

Illidan’s voice was so full of concern, the Alpha tone of anger there, not toward her of course but he was furious at the thought of her becoming sad. Asch’s shoulders hike up and her cries become silent, her eyes so wide and unseeing. Asch can hear every step he takes behind her, the echo of his hooves filling the space. Asch quivers when his wings snap, no doubt readying to wrap her in an embrace. First his hands grab at her and handle her into his chest, her face shoved into his neck allowing her smell him. Then rumbling from his chest made her lax to his wishes, the soft purrs coaxing her into a less panicked state. 

 

 

Asch sobs, but her hands have their motion and paw at him, finding his thick arms and she clings. The words rub on her head and she feels only the more terrible as she tires to settle herself. Illidan is a somber beast, quietly rumbling and holding her in his clutches. Asch can not find peace though, “I-I-“ Asch stumbles, then snaps her mouth shut, Illidan sighs warmly against her head, it is without emotion and very comforting, a deep and great exhale that causes her cries to taper off into small whimpers. 

 

“What has happened?” He asks in such a delicate way, as if he was worried she would cry all over again. Asch does not like to lie, but she does not think the truth would do her any good- or the hunters for the matter. It would cause more trouble to speak her pain, making Illidan distrustful toward his hunters because Asch could not recognize them out of a crowd so he may punish them like she knows he would wish too. So Asch does not say what caused her upset, but simply why she is. 

 

“I-I d-don’t want... want t-to d-distract y-you. Asch says weakly, it was not a lie and not a full truth either, but Asch feels it is enough for now to sate him. Illidan seems taken for a moment, possibly unsure how to respond to such a silly thing no doubt, ultimately he does of course, and his words always carry the desired affect. “You have not distracted me.” Illidan firmly states, giving no breath to this worry. “Had you not been with me, here and safe, that would be distracting.” Asch feels better as she knew he would make her and nods to his words because they are true. 

 

“Why think such a thing?” He prods, she knew he would, it was unprompted and strange and not a thought she ever had considered before. “I- I worry...” Asch says lamely, hating the way the lie left her tongue at all. Illidan pets her back with his hands and hums in thought. “I have finished with my duties. Now my only duty is to you.” His voice is so pleasant to her ears as he picks her up in his arms and swipes his cheek against hers. Asch repeats the motion and it gives her a fluttering feeling when he smiles at her. “I saw the gift you left me in our chambers. Had you thought to lead me on a chase?” Illidan coos, watching her grow pink with embarrassment.

 

 

“I suppose I should punish you for such a thing.” He rumbles, walking leisurely toward their chambers. 

 

 

Asch felt all the weight escape her as Illidan returns them to their chambers, their rooms were heavy with Illidan’s scent and so calming Asch left herself go lax as sludge in his arms. Illidan purrs as he sets her down gently in the bed, “Let me clean myself of the days filth and then I shall attend you.” He rumbles, Asch almost feels inclined to follow him but she felt to comfortable to move as he leaves her, making the most delightful calming sound until he disappears from her sight. 

 

 

Asch felt so content to sit there and wait, until a most wonderful idea came to her mind. Asch slips from the bed and hurried over to their dressers. Illidan keeps some of his clothes here, but it was mostly for Asch to keep safe her delicate dresses. Asch had not shown this to Illidan, but recently she was given something quite soft and pretty, a gift by one of the courtesans Kael’thas keeps in his den of delights. Asch does not go anywhere near that place, Illidan knowing his demon hunters frequent there for relief, they would not care for his marks or scent upon her and do as they wished. But still, that did not stop the girls from leaving such place, some Asch has met in passing and one, Ay’ella, have her quite the pretty piece of silk.

 

 

Ay’ella said that the hunters enjoyed her revealing outfits and, why should they not? The object of their stay was to entice and excite. Asch knew some girls stayed because they enjoyed the type of work, others for the danger, and lastly some for the comfort that Kael’thas provides them. The girls want for nothing and are given all they ask for. Ay’ella gave Asch one of her outfits, one that was too long for her but perfect length for Asch. 

 

 

Though as she pulled it from under her dresses, Asch could not see what was too long about it. As she slipped out of her dress and let the sheer fabric fall over her it barely covered her bottom. The thing was mostly for show, nothing really covered her as she fixed all the parts in place, smoothing it down her figure with careful swipes. It was simple, there was support for her breasts, but they were visible through the fabric, from there to just the tops of her thighs was flower detailed fabric that didn’t fit to her form but rather draped down. Asch could feel herself become pink at the idea he would see her in this and quickly climbed back onto the bed, there isn’t much time between that and Illidan's return for her to rethink herself as he comes through the door, hair down his back, wet and long. 

 

Asch’s tongue pokes out of her lips slightly, her stomach twisting at the sight of him still wet from his bath. Illidan has his eyes trained upon her, burning as he spends no words as he approaches, though none are needed as Asch can smell the arousal of her alpha. His scent thickens in the room as he glides closer. Asch feels her ears fall lax as she slips backward in the bed, as if she was prey to this predator. Asch feels her back hit the cushioned headrest and she lets a soft giggle escape as he looms over her, a delighted smile coming to his face as he throws the towel that was around his neck to the floor. Illidan made no effort to cover himself, but there was hardly a need too. 

 

Asch feels his hands along her legs and squeaks abruptly when he yanks her ankle so she lays flat on her back. “Such a shame,” he begins in a deep voice while one of his sharp nail points scratch along the surface of her outfit, “-to rip such a delightful thing.” Asch pants against his jaw, kissing it softly as his nails trail along the fabric, small sounds of tearing could be heard between them as Illidan spreads her legs open with his own, his cock hanging heavy and flushed with deep colour. Asch exhales shakily as she feels his other hand prods her knees up. Illidan doesn’t waste any time removing her panties, he only admired them as his claws cut into each side until the fabric was pulled away and tossed aside as another wrecked piece of fabric. 

 

Asch moans sweetly as his knuckles drag through her wet slit, Illidan grins sharply as his licks his hand clean, purring in satisfaction as his cock twitches against her thigh. His knot already begun to form as he pushes his cock between her folds, enticing a whimper from her lips. Asch spreads her thighs as wide as she can for him, moans escaping her in a river as he slowly enters her. A soft hiss escapes Illidan as he hilts, taking a moment to feel her wrap around him before moving in a rough and eager pace. Asch takes his treatment gasping, broken calls of his name attempt to escape her throat, but Illidan was making it difficult to do much else but cry out. 

 

Illidan snarls, nipping at her collarbone, moving to lick and suck her breasts in a frenzy of heat. Asch desperately writhes into his pounding, feeling his clever tongue and sharp teeth toy with her nipples, abusing them for her pleasure. Asch squeezes her thighs into his sides, head digging into the bed as she exposes her neck, screaming his name unable to keep quiet as he assaults her body in all the ways he knows she likes. Asch’s breath hitches as he paws at her skin, slipping his hands under her bottom to heft her up into his lap. Asch collapses into his, sweaty hands slipping over his wet skin as he lifts her up and on his cock. 

 

Asch mindlessly licks his neck, biting his form skin as she moans, lashes fluttering as she feels his cock stretch her out. Illidan’s nails dig into the meat of her behind, a deep, resonating growl erupting from his throat as he holds her tight to his lap and finally, finally shoved his knot into her cunt, making Asch shout and arch. Illidan purrs loudly, sinking back into the bed and pulling her on top of him. Asch squirms in pleasure, laying against him “You are not a distraction,” Illidan says softly into her ear, hissing in pleasure as she grinds her hips slightly. Illidan lifts her chin, kissing her sweetly, reminding her of all things wonderful. 

 

 

Chapter 173: Aethas dabbles 7

Summary:

Aethas Sunreaver/Original female character

Notes:

So this is a very small update, which I know isn’t that great since I’ve left this story for about a month. I’m very sorry about that I haven’t abandon this project but I am lagging behind a little so, don’t worry about my updates they will come just I’m not sure how frequent they’ll be.

This is set up for the next chapter so thanks for being patient with me.
As always enjoy!

Chapter Text

 

Aethas sits slumped in the cushion chair in front of Khadgar, his chin in his hand as he glares sharply. 

 

Khadgar was sort of squirming in his chair, looking awkwardly between the two of them. He had nothing to say, but he obviously got an earful from Vereesa because his eyes are wide and his face was pink. Aethas did not expect her to pull any details and likely gave a very unflattering image of them- likely more so Asch. 

 

“I...” Khadgar starts, looking rather sickly, “am unsure of where... to begin.” He admits, Aethas rolls his eyes, it wasn’t as if they truly did anything wrong. He could admit to there being a power imbalance at the very least. “It’s... true then?” Khadgar asks, though he really doesn’t seem to want too, “You’ve... been... intimate...” Aethas watches him struggle not to be embarrassed. Aethas grunts, sitting up now and uncovering his mouth, “Yes it is true,” he says for the both of them, then adds, mostly for Asch’s sake, “It has no baring on her decision pertaining to my Sunreavers.” Aethas was not sure if he was telling a bald face lie or not. It wouldn’t have mattered really if he did, Aethas wasn’t that uncomfortable with lying.

 

 

Hopefully Asch wasn’t either. 

 

 

Aethas lets his gaze slightly turn to Asch, hoping he wouldn’t be caught checking and hoping she would stay the same, when none of them said anything for some time, Aethas took that as a license to speak again. “Frankly I’m appalled, our private lives shouldn’t be paraded around like some cheap gossip- much less used to call my fellow Archmages integrity into question.” Aethas watches the expression change on Khadgar’s face, one of shock and much more rich, mortification. “Well- it’s a bit taboo don’t you think?!” Khadgar blurts, reeling back slightly in his chair. Aethas hums angrily, “Yes. For Vereesa to come in here and expose the details of our relationship.” Aethas bites as he speaks, showing how irritated this whole thing has made him.

 

“It was childish and disrespectful and she should be punished for embarrassing us.” Aethas finishes with a hard look at Khadgar, knowing it wouldn’t help anything but far too angry to find it in himself to be any amounts of kind. Khadgar seems rightly thrown by all of it, looking between the two as if he expected something else to be said. “I- I’m-“ he sputters slightly, stopping himself to compose. “I... I understand that it was not in her rights to... expose such things.” He says, attempting to calm himself, “but this is not something that can be ignored by the council- you must understand I cannot allow your Sunreavers entry in light of what’s happened here!” Khadgar was pleading, sounding as if he begged himself to stop talking. 

 

Aethas jerks in fury, “what?!” He belts, nearly beginning to speak, but is stopped, “there might be something I can do!” Khadgar hurriedly says, standing clumsily you from his chair, “I’ll be but a moment!” He shouts, hurrying out the door like a burst of wind. The sound of it slamming behind them made Aethas wince slightly. 

 

Asch has been rigidly quiet for the whole thing, a very disturbed look on her face that only grew with each exchange. Aethas turns in his chair, but he isn’t sure what to say at all. Asch shifts slightly, seeing the motion he made, Aethas bites his lip, “it’ll be fine I’m sure.” He waves off, having no sense at all if it will or not, it was rather grim- more so than most cases he had seen while on the council and he had seen many fraternizing cases in his time. 

 

Asch doesn’t even nod, doesn’t even acknowledge what he has said and Aethas thought better than to try again and sits, worrying his lip until Khadgar hurried into the room with a terrible face and sad eyes. “Your Sunreavers may stay.” He says, but they all know he is not finished, “but you cannot. Neither of you... Jaina has agreed to this... stalemate if you both leave within the next hour and...” he turns to Asch specifically “... vacate your housing in Coldarra...” Aethas nearly bolts out of his chair, but for the sheer fact Khadgar looks terribly he stalls himself from further instantly. “I- I’m so sorry it’s- it’s all I could do...” for some reason Aethas does believe him, but it does not change the fact they can no longer set foot in the once neutral city- 

 

And Asch’s home.

Chapter 174: Illidan Omegaverse dabbles 10

Summary:

Illidan Stormrage/Asch Redfires

IDK IF IM HAPPY WITH THIS???

I don’t want to retcon the story so I have to move forward but the awkward gap of 6 ish years where Illidan is imprisoned/dead(lmao) is a jump I have to make, idk if I like what I did but shrug right. So here it is, enjoy!

Chapter Text

 

 

Illidan lays in his bed, the sheets tangled and Asch sleeping soundly beside him, on her belly with her naked back exposed to the little moonlight that seeped through the dark curtains. Illidan stares at her, watches her breath escape her in the softest sighs, remembering a time when he had only been able to dream of such a thing. Illidan for the longest time only had his mind and imaginations, the things he wanted so desperately. He can recall being tempted, cheated and denied so many things. 

 

Azshara had tried to steal his innocence, mock him for having no lover and force him like all of the other Alpha whores she kept in her presence. Illidan could not stand the sight of her, and she had a wrath like no other when he refused her, but Illidan has his own wrath. He would not so easily forget Asch for such a pale substitute and he had said as much, curious and a many other things could be said for what Azshara was that day. Though Azshara was not so beautiful as she believed to be, as though around her believed her to be. She smelt like rainwater and fresh air yes, but Illidan felt sick at the scent. 

 

Illidan shakes his head, snarling lightly at the memory, dwelling on such matters would do little good. Instead Illidan shifts into his side, staring at Asch while he can. The sounds of fighting outside were getting louder and Illidan would make the most of the mere minutes he had. 

 

Soon, far too soon he could hear the patter of clawed feet and without letting them knock Illidan opens the door, “Keep silent.” He says, not wishing to wake Asch from her dreams. Carefully he closes the doors, sealing the seams with magic, “Come.” He says, eyes falling shut. His hunters gather around him, their hallow eyes dripping with Fel staring up at him with wonder, desire- love and loyalty. “I will deal with these intruders,” he snarls, claws curling in anger, “You will secure the keystone- now go!” He belts, opening the portal to the demons homeland “Do not fail!” Illidan feels alone, solitude creeping in his spine as he stares at the empty platform, his wings spread out from his back.

 

 

They are coming. 

 

 

Asch awakens with a start as the temple shakes, dust and bits of rock fall from the walls, the very foundation chipping. She grips the sheets, scrambling to sit up, frantic she looks for Illidan, nearly speaking just name it until her eyes catch those around her. There was a dead silence as she is regarded by five pairs of foreign eyes, their masks making them deadly and vicious. Dread fills her belly, these were Wardens. 

 

None of them make a move, make a noise. Not even as the booming sound of explosions shake the walls. “Such a shame,” a voice she knows all too well says with the most eager excitement. The wall of watchers part for their leader, Maiev Shadowsong. “W-Wha- wh-where-“ “Is the Betrayer? Dead.” She says it with such sickening happiness that Asch recoils. “B-But I- I c-can-“ Asch touches the mark Illidan left, not feeling his death as she should be, he couldn’t be- she knew what suppose to happen, Maiev was lying. 

 

She had to be. 

 

Maiev sneers, “Oh yes. Becoming demon scum made his soul eternal. What a kindness too you. One you do not deserve.” She spits, her weapon raised “I think I shall make your death quick, Traitors whore-“ there was a noise, struggling behind them all “You cannot!” A hunter they’ve subdued yells from his position on the floor. Maiev turns her attention, her lip curling under her helmet as she snarls, “Can’t I?! Silence this fool-“ “She carries Lord Illidan’s child-!” He belts, struggling against his bonds “By our people you cannot harm her!” Maiev stomps her boot into his wing, causing a straggled cry to escape his mouth “You betrayed your people and no longer have the right to words laws demon!” She screams. The demon hunter pants, fel blood dripping from his lips, “But- she... does!” He grinds out, spitting blood into the floor. Maiev hisses, spinning on her heel, eyes bearing down on Asch as she cowers in the sheets. 

 

Maiev keeps her weapons poised in her hands, but one of the watchers hesitates “My lady... if this is true... we cannot-“ “I know our laws Celdiya!” She bites, “I will not take this traitors word- search for it. Now!” A few watchers spring into action, but upon seeing them all move, they all pause, waiting to see who would carry out the orders. Maiev vibrates in fury, having passed the rest to do it herself. Maiev yanks off her glove, throwing it carelessly to the floor for another to pick up. Asch flinches badly as her hand pushes into her stomach? The heat of her magic making her wince and squirm. Her nails claw at her skin as a feral noise escapes her. “Demon spawn,” she spits, hallow eyes digging into Asch’s soul. “Chain her! Kill him!” She snarls, flying away from Asch in a flurry of motion.

 

“No! Please!” Asch finds her voice, “Don’t-“ Maiev points her glaive in Asch’s direction, “I don’t take orders from traitors!” Asch squeezes her eyes shut as the sick sound of her weapon cuts into the demon hunters neck, his gasps for breath disregarded by all of them. “Move out!” Maiev rages, firing through the line and out of the room. 

 

 

There was no spared kindness given to her once they returned to Azeroth, not forgiveness or care. Malfurion had no moment to spare for her, his heart somehow lost the will to see her. Tyrande was only spoken of in passing, that by her grace she would be awarded the cell her mate had occupied for ten thousand years. It was cruel, more cruel than she thought they might have been. It was a humiliation she never thought they would force her to endure. Something she knew Illidan would be furious of. But Illidan no longer lived. His body was encased in a shell of his own fel blood, his soul unable to awaken, stud wandering the nether. Maiev delighted in telling her this. 

 

At least, the smallest kindness was that she did not have to experience the vacancy of actually losing her mate. The wretched emptiness, the foul and unforgiving feeling of loneliness. Though all of that was trumped by the vomiting she began to experience was something else. There was shame, too, having morning sickness in front of her guards, forced to bend over a bucket they didn’t bother to clean. It wasn’t as though she was accustom to luxury, far from it, but this was not any kind of condition. Maiev wanted it this way, she said many times she hoped Illidan’s spawn would bleed from her. Still months trudged on and they both survived. 

 

It was lonely, Illidan must have been more interesting to taunt than she was because Maiev hadn’t come to see her once. Asch hadn’t pictured her first pregnancy like this, she thought it would be a decision they both made together. 

 

Illidan would be alive for it. 

 

Asch shudders, pressing a hand on her swollen belly, there was no bed, but the smell of her mate was caught around all the corners of the room, so she could do without. Asch glances at the stone wall, staring at the bloody claw marks, her mate was a furious creature, powerful and passionate. Asch wonders for a spare moment why he had chosen her at all, she was laying her, more passive than he has ever been in his life. something inside her rotted away as she realizes it. Illidan would not have her sitting here. 

 

 

Asch forced herself up, inhaling the scent of her mate and resolving herself firmly. The guards pay her no mind, not even turning to the sound of the sand shifting. “I will have your attention!” She bites, surprised at herself for the force she had in her words. The guard turn, though she cannot see their face for a reaction, she feels powerful. “Collect the warden I wish to speak with her.” 

 

 

The watchers seemed so confused by her sudden need of Maiev that they were floored by the request, caught off base of themselves and had no qualms of heeding her. Maiev however, was not pleased, Asch could simply tell her rage was full faced as she came down, chin pressed to her chest like all Alphas do in habit. Asch glowers at the reminder. “You dare make requests of me Betrayers whore?!” She spits the words in her alpha tone, as if the growling would cause Asch to cower. Demon hunters did it so often Asch had forgotten what the affect was suppose to have on her. 

 

Asch snarls, her lips pulling from her teeth, “Whatever I am, it is not one of your prisoners, Maiev.” She says in a leveled voice, Maiev tilts her head, coming up to the bars, laughing softly “Your crimes equal his-“ “Ah yes, my crimes.” She snaps, “What would our people think of you imprisoning a pregnant omega hm?” Maiev scoffs, the flames of the torches dancing along the metal of her helmet. 

 

“You spread your legs for a traitor, it is not my concern that you are upset with the punishment given to you.” Maiev informs her, as if joyed by the idea of it all. Asch rolls her eyes, “And what of Malfurion’s concern? I should like to see him.” Maiev then laughs at her, her head thrown back in her uproar “You are mistaken if you think I will allow him-“ “Ah so he doesn’t know, does he?” The room grows quiet, save the tiny crackles of fire, “Does Tyrande know? Does anyone know that you’re keeping me here?” Maiev doesn’t respond “Doesn’t it bother any of you?” She looks helplessly at the guards, the two alphas shift uncomfortably, “My mate is dead, I’ve no one to protect me or my baby.” She watches both of the guards squirm, she suppresses a grin. “You will be silent!” Maiev snarls, but Asch has already said all she wanted. 

 

“As you say, Warden.” 

 

What followed in the next days were rather spectacular and predictable, Malfurion was shouting beyond her sight line, his rage equal to his name. Asch pets her belly, amused at the punishing words she could hear Malfurion use. “Leave from my sight!!” He howls, sweeping th the room “By Elune Asch-!” She has been right, neither Malfurion or Tyrande knew she was even alive. “Open this cell!” He bellows, his hands on the bars “All this time...” his brow was creased in fury, his scent fouled “Mal...” she mutters, teaching for his embrace as the door is pushed open. “Elune look at you-“ she says with his voice breaking “It’s- it's his... isn’t it?” Asch nods, letting him envelop her in his arms “How far along are you?” He whispers into her hair, his feathers tickling her back “Just nearly nine months.” He seems to perk at this, throwing a furious snarl behind him. “She kept you here the whole time?!” Asch hums softly, trying to placate him, “Please take me from this place, Mal.” Asch didn’t want to punish Maiev, she was a vacant women, she had no life outside of these walls. Her life was made of guarding Illidan and hunting him, there was little else the women had beside vengeance. 

 

“Yes of course-“ 

Chapter 175: Aethas dabbles 8

Summary:

Aethas Sunreaver/Asch Sunheart

Yooo sorry this was over due. I kept rewriting it because I wasn’t sure what I wanted and I started updating other stories (if you’re interested check them out) but anyway!

Enjoy!

Chapter Text

 

Aethas was a silent partner in the removal of her things. He was good at organizing and he wasn’t sure when Asch would be ready to talk. Aethas was sure she didn’t even want him there, but he invited himself and he didn’t say no. 

 

Asch was given a week with the house and then anything and anyone would be removed. They spent the better part of today boxing her living room up. The only firm and sure conversation they had was when Asch told him very quietly and without emotion to not pack the kitchen until the last day. 

 

The sofa was covered in boxes as well as the better part of the floor. Aethas peers outside, noticing it was very dark outside. Though he couldn’t tell the time anymore because they packed all the clocks. Aethas draws his gaze over to Asch. Her hands were in the sink, a peeler in one hand and a potato in the other. She looked very pretty, hair lazily tied away from her face and eyes full of emotions she wouldn’t talk about, Asch was making dinner for two and Aethas felt a little wanted. 

 

Aethas is careful around the boxes, moving toward her with light feet, though she knows he coming. “It’s going to be fine.” He says for the tenth time that day, and like always she didn’t respond. Aethas shoves into her personal space, winding his arms around her until she’s firmly in his embrace, hugging her with all the tender care he somewhere along obtained for her. Asch hesitates her peeling, her hand growing shakily. “It’s going to be fine.” He says once more, and Asch finally, finally does something. 

 

 

Aethas expected tears, he expected hysterical crying, what he got was white hot rage. 

 

The clatter of the metal peel and the potato hurt his ears and the feeling of her nails digging into his arms while ice began to seep over his skin was agony. Aethas lurched back, hissing in shock and pain. “This is your fault!” She howls, whipping around to face him with eyes so full of hatred he could see the frost permeate from her lids. “If you had never come here- if you never had bothered-!” Asch sounds as if she doesn’t know what she’s mad at, clearly trying to find something. Aethas looks at her unamused, fire in his palms to melt the thick chunks of ice she left in her rage. 

 

“If I hadn’t what? If I didn’t bother with what?!” He spits at her, “You and I both know we have nothing to fight about anymore, it’s not me you’re angry at.” Asch fumes at his words, seemingly just needing to be angry at something “You’ve got what you wanted, your Sunreavers get to stay in Dalaran!” Aethas reels a little, “And I am banned from the city- as are you! Do you think that’s what I intended?! That I got into your bed just to win your vote?!” 

 

Asch looks absolutely furious with him, Aethas almost wonders if this would turn into a physical fight, she looks just about ready to kill him. “What did you want then?!” She snarls, but there is a little change in her eyes, a tiny little flash of concern, as if there was something she wanted to hear from him. Aethas was not stupid. Though it would seem very stupid to  anyone else, Aethas takes a step forward. And then another and another, and continues until Asch is pressed between the counter and his body. “What did I want?” He repeats, slowly, “What do I want?” His voice is a low, hissed thing, almost angry. 

 

 

Almost.

 

 

Aethas gently presses his forehead into hers, his eyes closed and he sighs, “I want you to know that I am on your side.” He says softly, Asch flinches against him, whether out of anger or shock he cannot tell, at this point he doesn’t want to open his eyes to see either. Aethas has no idea what’s going on in her mind, not until two shaky hands reach and grip his arms, Aethas nuzzles his nose into hers, her lips surprises his in a soft kiss. Aethas inhales, Asch shudders a sigh, “Help me with dinner...?” 

 

 

Aethas rounds the counter, coming to her side and watching the potato’s as she peels them, giving her a long and sweet kiss to her cheek. “I...” she trails off, looking sheepish as she bites her lip, “I don’t know where I’m going to move after this,” she laughs a little bit, shaking her head “My parents don’t have any room- as if I could stomach that embarrassment...” she says, shame clearly coloring her face. Aethas hums in thought, quiet for a moment, Asch seems desperate for a response from him, “Would you stay with me?” He asks, suddenly, completely caught off guard himself for asking. 

 

“Don’t you live in Silvermoon? I can’t go there! It’s Horde territory...” Asch squeaks, Aethas shrugs, “I have powerful friends too, besides what has the Alliance done for you?” He grins, watching her pout, Aethas shakes his head “You don’t have to unpack. Let me at least discuss with Lor’themar your stay in the city. After you can find something more permanent- if you’d like that is.” He chuckles as she bats at his shoulder. “I... I suppose it’s better than staying in a ratty hotel...” she muses, sounding rather frustrated with herself. Aethas purrs softly, “I should make good on my promises then.” Asch tilts her head, looking at him in confusion. Aethas leaves closer to her, “To have you as I pleased, begging for me.” Asch’s face turns dark red, her eyes wide and beautiful “I hardly think I could get any work finished if I knew you were home waiting for me.” 

 

There was a flash in her eyes, a mischievous kind as she smirks at him, tugging him closer to her, the food forgotten in the sink, “I do not beg.” She says curtly, to which Aethas snorts, but before he can respond, a finger presses against his lips silencing him. “And... you can make good on those promises here.” She whispers, replacing her fingers with her lips. Aethas rumbles in pleasure, parting just enough to say against her lips “Is that right?” She hums, stopping the water from running in the sink, letting him grope her hips, “Well now. Shall I give my little Ice Queen a proper throne?” He says, scooping up her thighs in his arms, making her squeak. 

 

Aethas pauses a moment in the kitchen, adjusting her in his arms so his hand can quickly wave a spell on the doors in the house, the arcane hisses in the air, while hes distracted Asch takes the opportunity to bite his flesh, cooing in delight as he stiffens, Asch wraps her legs around his middle. Aethas enjoys kissing her, though he’s careful down the stairs, letting her nip and kiss his neck wetly as he takes the steps one at a time until he shoves the door open. Aethas drops Asch into the bed, adoring her surprised squeak as he climbs atop her, consuming her mouth with his own hunger. 

 

Aethas pushes away, pulling his clothes off, throwing them into the room carelessly as she stares down at Asch, beautiful and  breathless. Asch pushes herself up, pulling her dress over her head and throwing it equally without care, shoving at his shoulders as she gets into his lap, kissing him viciously. Aethas hums, delighting in the possessive little streak she seems to have over him as she claws her little marks into his skin with her teeth and nails. For a time he lets her have her fill, when he angled his head away, she huffs, but he only tuts “My my so needy,” he teases, hands cupping her bottom, quickly smacking it playfully, despite knowing she hates it. Of course she snarls, jumping in his lap as he laughs in amusement. 

 

 

Aethas drags her panties down her thighs, Asch helpfully does the rest, unclipping her bra and tossing it aside, “Off-“ she moans, tugging at his pants. Aethas never breaks contact with her mouth as he pushes his pants from his legs, his cock squished between their bellies. Aethas pulls them down to the sheets, kneading the flesh of her backside, nudging her into sitting up, trying to pull her to his face. Asch refuses to move, her face flushing in embarrassment “Y-You w-were s-serious?!” She all but screams, fumbling for purchase on his skin, his incessant tugging not helping her fretting. “Mhm,” his whole chest vibrates with the sound, making her shiver “Sit on my face.” Asch’s fluster is clear when she jerks rod straight, she can feel his grin against her thigh. 

 

Aethas uses the opportunity, pulling her down onto his mouth, relishing the straggled gasp that escapes her as his tongue pushes into her. Aethas consumes her, expertly laving at her slit, sliding his long, thick tongue over her, making her messy. Asch squirms against his face, her hands gripping his, worming her fingers under where his were clamped on her legs. “Aethas-“ her voice was incredibly breathy, Aethas slips his tongue around her clit, making her shiver and rock into his mouth. 

 

Aethas lets her greedily chase her end, helping her with his clever tongue, enjoying the sounds he pulls out of her until she’s gasping and panting, his name echoing off the walls. Aethas eases her down, her slick cunt leaves a wet mess on his stomach as she perches there, gasping and desperate to hold herself up on shaky arms. Aethas licks his lips, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he grins pointedly at her. Asch’s ears were a bit crestfallen, her face one of bliss. Aethas chuckles warmly, rubbing his hand into her thighs “Such a sight, one only ever for my eyes.” Aethas coos, feeling rather possessive, vindicated solely because she has let no other the pleasure. 

 

Asch breathes out a huff, sliding to lay on his chest, eyes fluttering shut “Have I exhausted you Archmage?” He was teasing, his need not so pressing. Aethas was content to lay there now, warm and content. Asch’s breath puffs softly against his chest before she eases up slightly, looking at him with soft and twinkling eyes. Aethas cocks a brow, a little smirk toying at the edge of his mouth until he feels her bottom shift, the head of his cock slightly pressed into her slicked opening. 

 

Aethas sighs in pleasure as she slides his cock inside of her wet, tight heat, digging his shoulders into the bedding beneath him as she mounts him. Her pace was lazy, gentle, drawing the pleasure out in a sweet way that had him humming. It’s not a speed he would have chosen, but Aethas likes it all the same, admiring the gentle sways of her body. Aethas tugs her forward, making her lay against him so he may kiss her as he likes, consuming her lips without hurry. 

 

Aethas feels overwhelming affection for her as she slides her hand up his chest to his neck. Asch moans softly, Aethas carts his hands through her hair, his breath becoming labored. Aethas jerks his hips, hissing quietly as his finish overtakes him. Asch sighs, riding his cock through it, squeaking her own completion along with his name. Aethas grunts, his cock twitching as she abuses it, Asch arches, humming a gentle sigh as she slows her hips, wiggling slightly and giggling when he huffs. 

 

“If I asked you...” she begins breathlessly, collapsing onto his chest, “Would you leave the Horde?” Aethas blinks groggily, “Are you?” There was a long pause on her part, perhaps considering it, “What is your answer?” Aethas wraps her up in his arms, pecking her forehead “I would. But not to join the Alliance. The disrespect they have shown you is intolerable.” He feels her smile a moment, it was a giddy and quick little thing. “I’m not asking,” she clarifies, nestled warmly and nuzzling her face in his neck. Aethas grunts softly in response, if she was. 

 

He would have said yes. 

Chapter 176: Rommath dabbles 6

Summary:

Rommath/Asch

This is smaller than I wanted it to be but for plot sake this is all I have in this chapter!

Someone wanted another Rommath chapter so I hope this was good enough :DDD

Enjoy!

Chapter Text

Rommath sits in his office, his hand resting underneath his chin, quill tapping the parchment, absent of ink. 

 

Meetings.

 

Tiresome, hours full of lords throwing their petty problems, asking for things that their exhausted regent lord will just give because he is irritable and... 

 

Tired.

 

 

Rommath tosses his quill, taking his coat from the chair, the day was hot but it was raining. Rommath makes his way through the streets, passing people without a second glance, though almost all of them greet him with titles and kind words. There was no hurry, there was no end to his goals, simply he thought, he would see Asch. 

 

She was exactly where he expected her to be, the church of her father and his flock, a heavenly thing on her own under the stain glass. Her pale skin was dotted with pinks, yellows and blues. Her dress was white, Rommath felt like a demon in his dark colours, a stain upon his holy place. Asch saunters upon the dais, her hands full of a tome, large and freckled with dust. It’s pages were dirty, caught between her fingers, Rommath clears his throat, catching her attention.

 

Asch looks up, innocent, pretty eyes blinking and then lighting up at her discovery of him. She discards her book, picking up her silky, soft skirts, feet tapping down the steps. He doesn’t expect it, but the grand magister does not stumble, does not faulter when she runs into his arms. Rommath spins her in the momentum, her hair flying around her as she giggles. Asch kisses him, before he can stop her and it feels quite dirty here, in this place.

 

As if he was defiling her, doing something so utterly wrong because his intentions were solely the pleasure of it and not purposeful. Church’s were for weddings, for great commitments. “Such a welcome,” Rommath comments, overcome as she cradled his face in her hands, batting her beautiful white lashes. She was so pure, the very colour of her skin to the very threads of her hair. Rommath could barely handle the comparison. 

 

“Hello darling.” He laughs, placing her on her own feet, hearing the soft pads of her feet hit the floor. Her quirks a brow “Women aren’t to wear shoes in church.” Rommath scoffs a mixture of disbelief and distaste “How archaic.” Asch smiles shyly, “Ada is typical about traditions.” Rommath stuffs his hands into his pockets, “Oh he mustn’t like me.” Rommath smirks aggrogantly, Asch bites at her rosy lip and it pulls something in him that isn’t appropriate. “He won’t despair.” 

 

“Won’t he?” 

 

Asch’s face faulters, if only a little, and then returns to an easy, soft smile. The damage is already done and Rommath quirks his head awaiting her answer to his unasked question. “My father does not like mages. He thinks you are... blasphemous.” Rommath laughs in good nature, only bothered by what the high priest might whisper to his daughter, after all; love thy father.

 

“I believe in the gods just fine,” Rommath says plainly, “I just don’t like them is all.” Asch presses her hand to his lips, but he grins devilishly anyway behind it. “I play with fire darling, I do not fear being burnt.” He whispers, pulling her hand and kissing it gently. “What would he choose for you then, hm? Perhaps a paladin? It hardly takes intelligence to swing a sword.” Asch tugs him toward her, pulling him into an alcove away from the light, he almost snorts at the implication, the gods light losing sight to lovers in their own house. “Different minds for different things,” she says, far to kindly. But Rommath does not make comments to it, knowing that her words indeed have value. 

 

“There was a man, Ayven. Father likes him very much.” She shakes her head of him, “He did not like when I spoke openly without consent. I did not take to him.” Rommath rolls his eyes, “Boorish- they know women are for more then childbearing, do they not?” Asch colors in shame and Rommath does not like the look of it upon her face. “If you give me the pleasure of your company I would not waste it belittling your person.” 

 

Rommath lightly runs his hands down her sides, cupping her waist “I would do with your pleasures now, but you wish not to disrespect your gods.” Asch blinks rapidly, digesting his words with a reddened face, still he pushes his luck, taking her lips in a searing kiss and directing her back into the pale rock carved wall, caging her between his hands. 

 

Rommath parts, grin mischievous and delighted, “I would enjoy burying my fingers between your thighs and having you undone.” Rommath wetly kisses her neck, listening to her ragged, nervous breath and feeling the pounding of her heart, “See you naked in the furs of my bed- let you sit upon the throne that is my mouth.” Asch's thighs squeeze together and a shakily breath escapes her as she clutched at the front of his robes “R-Rommath y-you should n-not-“ “Not speak such things here, yes darling I know.” He interrupts, pawing her behind and pulling her flush to him, he can feel that she wears nothing underneath her flimsy robe, her nipples poking the fabric to their shape. 

 

He knows it not to be anything but tradition, but cannot help the groan that escapes him, “I will stay my hands,” he says softly, pleasantly. “I hardly think your gods are listening.” Asch’s cheeks become so dizzily pink, Rommath pecks her lips chastely, letting her free, “Not to us, at least.” He gives her ample time to compose, giving her his black coat to cover some of her bare and flushed skin. Rommath presents his hand and they walk from their hidden alcove into the twinkling light of the church. It was beautiful here, the floor covered in colors, Asch leans into him, both her arms wrapped around him. 

 

Rommath kisses her temple, then the moment she turns her face to look at him, he captures her lips once more, in the sight of her gods; and they do not care. Mortals do, and Rommath is not surprised when his ears twitch to the sound of a throat being cleared, expectant and irritated. When he turned he thought he would see her father the high priest, but instead he sees someone whose face he cannot place. 

 

The elf before them was standing among the stairs, his feet planted on the steps, a tome in his hands. His face was long, was handsome, another golden prince, just as Lor'themar, just as Halduron. His hair was free down his back, windswept as if he had just been outside. It was raining. 

 

Rommath took everything not to sneer at the man, “Lord Ayven.” Asch says more for Rommath then the man. Rommath scowls, this was the man her father intended for her. Ayven was much like all other Paladins he had come to see and know, rallied by the light, proud and tall. 

 

“My lady Asch!” He was loud, voice a boom in the otherwise quiet church. Rommath slants his eyes, she was not his lady. “Whose this now?” As if he didn’t know. Rommath suffers a polite smile, “This is Grand Magister Rommath.” Asch says cheerfully, Rommath almost feels like a prize to her, and enjoys it a little. 

 

“Oh my a mage- still not listening to your father, hm?” His words are cutting in every way, but he masks it with a good natured chuckle “That’s quite a sin you know my lady.” Rommath feels her hold weaken on his arm, Rommath glares icily, “Charmed though, I’m sure.” Ayven grins at him hollowly, “Yes. You should be.” Rommath bites, watching his expression darken with anger. 

 

Jealousy is also a sin.

 

“How is your lord father,” he asks instead, turning his attention from Rommath, he would have preferred it, if those leeching eyes didn't land on Asch. “Well- he has returned home for the day.” Ayven perks with no idea no doubt “I had hoped to see him, I shall take your escort to him.” His hand is poised to take Asch from him, but she denies him, a hesitant shake of her hand and a renewed hold upon Rommath. “My lady did not offer you one.” He says bluntly, feeling the fires of irritation lick at his skin and lighten his runes. Ayven’s hand still lingers there between them, stubborn and agitating. “But I have asked for one. My lady would not deny me the kindness, would you my dear?” Asch presses into Rommath, fingers squeezing his skin. 

 

“She will.” Rommath flicks his wrist in dismissal “Find your way to the high priest alone Lord Ayven.” Rommath does not spend another moment in his presence, for good measure, as they walk from the church he wraps his arm around her thin waist and keeps her as close as their bodies allow. 

Chapter 177: Rommath dabbles 7

Summary:

Rommath/Asch Lightbleeder

Hi guys! Sorry I’ve been away for a long time! I’m getting cabin fever from having to stay inside cause of this COVID thing- it’s making me a little too depressed to write sometimes and I’m sorry about that! I’m trying but you know how it is! (I'm working on a few stories at the moment as well- I have a Varian one in the works as well as Anduin, Lor'themar and maybe a few others BUT I thought I'd open the floor for suggestions, if you guys wanna see a new character I haven't done or an old one I haven't updated let me know in the comments below.)

Also BIG NEWS! I have tossed around the idea of making a READER-INSERT! Is that something you guys want to see out of me? Give me a shout on how you feel/any ideas you might want to see? :)) If no one says anything I'll just drop it for another time but let me know!

Anyway! Enjoy!

Chapter Text

 

Rommath denies himself the pleasure of feeling smug, his behavior was uncouth and far too possessive to really be considered himself. Though he could not help the feeling of triumph he felt over lord Ayven, giddy down to his soul.

 

Asch was on his arm.

 

Asch wanted him, the dark and blasphemies mage. 

 

The man who was neither fit as a warrior or agile as a hunter, he was defined yes, but Lor’themar’s arms were bigger, Halduron’s legs were thicker. He was a black sheep, a man of magic and knowledge, his art was in his hands and Rommath was very good with his hands. 

 

Rommath leads her outside into the dry parts of the steps, where the rain had not reached, Asch was after all bare foot. “I’d have you returned home but I lack the ability to conjure a portal there.” He begins, weaving his fingers through the air to create a portal anyway, “I wouldn’t have you walk- or suffer that fool.” No doubt lord Ayven had intentions with her father, but he must also be hoping he might stumble upon Asch returning.

 

Rommath has no intentions of allowing that, instead the shimmering portal before him was one too his private offices in the keep. “My lady,” he says kindly, leading her forward with his hand into the portals clutches. He follows behind her, snapping it shut with a wave of his hand. 

 

Rommath let’s her absorb his office, saying nothing until she turns to him, a little coy smile on her lips “It’s very messy,” she teases, fingers so utterly gentle as they ghost along the work atop his desk. Asch didn’t want to disturb anything, to be impolite to his things. Rommath hums in amusement, and a little marveled at her carefulness. “I would say it isn’t usual for me, but caring for the states affairs is quite messy.” Halduron didn't and Lor’themar hated it. Most political affairs were left to him, that he had the mind for it while those two- those warriors, were blunt and unrefined. Rommath sighs softly, in slight annoyance and slight burden- but then Asch doesn’t let him peril for long. 

 

She goes to him, wraps her hand in his, leaning on him, knowing he would support her, knowing he could carry her weight. She was little, a thin pretty thing that felt like a feather, but Rommath still postured. 

 

Still

 

There was a dread inside him, doubt. Rommath never felt doubt before, he was always so sure- of utterly everything he did. But this. This woman- this courtship. He was out of his depth. 

 

“Why,” he asks, puzzling her with his vague question. He swallows, “Why me?” He doesn’t dance around it, Rommath wasn't altogether sure he wanted a answer, wasn't sure why he asked in the first place. He spoke without thinking, something so raw for himself, something he found this women had caused him to do. Was that such a terrible thing? For a man of mind, a man of thought it was death, the end. 

 

Was it? 

 

Rommath watches her with decaying hope, waiting for her to laugh at him, play it off and say something that would make him feel better, make him feel anything but this awful feeling- but she doesn’t, she gives the question thought. It was horrible. Asch smiles so softly his heart picks up, almost begins to pound under his flesh and bones as she looks at him like that, like he was the only thing ever to exist. 

 

“Because it’s you.” The answer could have taken a second to think of, not the long pause she presented, but then she began again “I saw you, years ago, returning from Dalaran.” She presses a gentle kiss to his cheek, “You saved all those people.” The purge. All of their people remembered that day. “I never saw anything more incredible. No silly Paladin- or hunter- or warrior could do what you’ve done.” They could. Easily, possibly better-

 

Asch kisses his lips, stopping all of his thoughts, again. 

 

Rommath pulls her between his arms, cradled her as she sinks into his chest, content and gentle with him. No one has ever been so gentle with him before. Rommath felt as if he was consuming her, ruining her with his ugly hands, scarring her with his blasphemy and unfaithfulness. As if it might rub off. Rommath feels her hands shake as they slide up from his waist to his chest, smoothing out his fine suit. Her gentle fingers clutch then at his clothes, groping it as she tilts her head back. 

 

Rommath attacks her mouth, pushing his tongue into her, hands gripping her waist. Asch makes a soft, pretty sound in his mouth and it goes straight to his cock. Rommath releases her lips, admiring the pinkness in her cheeks before lowering his head to kiss her neck. Asch squirms under his care, moaning quietly. The sounds fill his office, but he doubts any escape through the door- though there wasn’t a soul this high in the tower to do so. 

 

Still he peaks up at her, seeing how she struggles to be quiet, embarrassed with herself. Rommath was enchanted. 

 

“May I touch you?” He whispers into her ear, nipping it gingerly as he makes no illusion with his hands what he wished to do, sliding his hands up her hips slightly to rumple her dress, pulling it up just enough. Asch’s breath hitches, his ear perks at the delightful, breathy gasp and feels her nod. With his hands Rommath turns her until she’s spun away from him. “Bend over.” He purrs, watching her brace her hands on the wooden frame and lean forward. 

 

The sky was just dark enough he could see her red face in the reflection and smiles at the sight of it. 

 

Rommath teases her, trailing his hands up her legs, tickling her skin as it erupts with goosebumps. She was warm and pink, her thighs were shaking as he carts her dress up, with one hand he tilts her hips, while the other slides up between her thighs. Rommath’s fingers slip between her tender pink lips, a growl escaping him as he discovers how slick she is. Rommath places open mouth kisses along her throat, fingers tugging down the high, tight collar to suck little marks into her skin as he makes a mess of her between her legs. 

 

Asch’s ears were drooped in pleasure until they perk at the sound of his belt rustling behind her, “W-Wait-“ she chokes, growing ridged. Rommath hushes her, kissing just below her ear as her head turns to look at him in absolute fright. Her thighs tighten around his invading hand, she doesn’t have the strength to stop his wandering, but he’s does, “I wouldn’t dare,” he assures her, pulling his cock from the confines of his pants, sliding it between his loose grip, “I’ll stop,” he promises, and he would, as soon as she says, the moment she says it. 

 

Rommath smirks, “You’ll wish I wouldn’t.” His fingers slip between her folds, the pads just barely dipping into her tight hole “My cock will slide over your little cunt and you wish I was inside you.” He feels her clench around the tip of his fingers, he grins, lifting them from her and into his mouth, sucking the wetness with a pop. “You’ll feel me-“ he pauses as he gropes her hip, a he handles his cock, slowly, ever so slowly, pushes it through her lips, “-And you’ll wish.” 

 

Rommath cants his hips and listens, with absolute pleasure, as she exhales shakily, nosily ans fidgets against him. “Look how pretty,” he coos, watching through the glass pane as her eyes tilt down, staring through her lashes at his cock, snug between her thighs and glistening. 

 

“R-Rommath-“ Asch gasps, squeezing him, Rommath moans softly, thrusting steadily, feeling her slick his cock. Needy sounds escape her, her lip caught between her teeth as she quiets her moans. Rommath buries his face into her shoulder, pushing his cock between her soft, warm thighs, feeling her wetness spread over his cock. “You don’t have to be quiet,” he mutters against her hair, drawing a kiss out across her ear, “This tower is mine, no one comes here- and if they did. Well.” Rommath whispers, rubbing her thighs, keeping them squeezed “Such a pretty sight you’d make.” Rommath suddenly feels a gush of slick, and perks, a wolfish smile overtaking his face “Does the pretty little gods fearing girl want someone to see her with my cock between her legs?” Asch can’t hide the keening sound that bursts out of her mouth, or how desperate her legs snap together. 

 

Asch’s hold on him was so tight Rommath couldn’t move, but he was finding his pleasure elsewhere now, “Lord Ayven perhaps? Ah that would be cruel- to show him what he’s so desperate to have.” Rommath exhales a mocking laugh, peppering a few kisses down her neck, “An image of mine?” He toys with the idea, “So no eyes but my have them pleasure. I could conjure one right now for you? Hm?” Asch exhales, a gentle shake of her head as she looks over, her face dizzily red “R-Rommath.” He smiles softly, lovingly. “Another time then,” she nods and Rommath eases her thighs open enough to continue his motions. 

 

With the way it was going, Rommath doesn’t think he was going to last, but he holds out until he felt her quake, a gentle shudder escaping her as his name falls from her abused, red lips. 

 

With a few more long thrusts, Rommath spends himself, spilling his pearly seed into her thighs, painting her skin as he pants, growling into her hair as his cock throbs. Rommath flicks his hand and produces a cloth, carefully and gently he wipes away his finish. 

 

Asch eases her dress down back, she spins, her hair a little wild as she looks up at him, smiling with pink cheeks. Rommath pecks her lips, fastening his belt “Was that too much for you?” He asks, just in case. 

 

“N-No!” She squeaks, getting embarrassed all over again, “I- it was-“ she can’t seem to voice it, but Rommath hums, she didn’t have to says it, she was too shy, but he knew. 

 

“It’s getting very dark,” she mutters, looking over her delicate shoulder to the window, Rommath nods, dipping his temple until it bumps into her head, resting there for a long moment. “Let me take you home.” Rommath draws a portal for the middle of the city, as close as he can get to her home, because technically, she wasn’t suppose to be here.

 

He steps through after her, pauses to look at the ground, scrutinizing it with a deadly glare, because her feet are bear and he was worried- worried enough that she might cut her feet or dirty them. Rommath might have offered to carry her, but he knew it would look undermining, so instead he accepts the hand she holds out, and follows her lead. 

 

It was still a little ways passed the crunch and through the winding city, he watches her feet and frowns at the blackness already there. How could she not be allowed to wear shoes. Insufferable- 

 

Rommath is suddenly pulled from his thoughts when a derelict puddle shimmers with something alive- something green. Rommath stops, eyes it as it overtakes the puddle. Asch jerks slightly, “Rommath?” He hears her- but his head begins to tilt up, the sky was dark, it was awfully dark. 

 

It wasn’t a natural darkness. 

 

Green begins to fill the sky, green begins to swallow the sky.

 

Green begins to fall from the sky.

Chapter 178: Illidan Omegaverse dabbles 11

Summary:

Illidan Stormrage/Asch Redfires

Hi there! Sorry it’s been so long! I was waiting to see if anyone had any responses on my questions last chapter! But seems like I didn’t so! No problem! Heees the next instalment for Illidan! Enjoy!

Chapter Text

It would be any moment, and second now, Asch knows this. Still they walk- shuffle down the darkened hall, alit with only a torch in the hand of a nameless warden. She must have been someone important to Maiev, someone utterly essential to be allowed to walk these unattended caverns. Illidan was here- Illidan was the only thing here. Down flights of stairs, winding corridors and even two mage lifts, and it was all for him.

 

 

Yes there were other creatures, dangerous, howling enemies in this vault, but they were all decoration to the great Betrayer. 

 

Malfurion was restless beside her, he did not like this place, but he would not leave her to trek it alone. Maiev, under the threat of punishment promised her anything in that moment to escape trouble, and it was no small crime to abuse and bury Asch like she had. Asch wanted no punishment, wanted no justice- she just wanted Illidan. Malfurion could only give her his husk, and Maiev allowed her endless visits as she pleased. 

 

Asch only requested two as of yet, this and the next when her baby was born. 

 

It was no easy task, not something she could do every day, even when she wasn’t heavy with his baby. Asch would try at least once a week too come here, bring their child to him. Malfurion thinks that Illidan can hear them, would know her voice despite being in the veil of the twisting nether, would delight in her presence though she is told where he is trapped is utter agony.

 

It’s a comforting thought, that he might hear her, but it is unknown to all of them if he can truly gauge the voices around him, truly know their presence. It isn’t unlike the Black Temple, this place, this prison. It is dark and dank, overly wet and hot- a unholy kind that sticks to your skin and stains your flesh. Asch finds it all comforting, it had been home for nearly two years, or more- the other world had no sun, no moon- no days. Asch had given up counting her time there. 

 

It felt as if it was one long haze, a day without beginning or end, but she did not despair, Illidan had kept her any kind of it, whether it was loneliness or sadness. Here, in the Broken isle, in Dalaran where she now lives, the days would pass without difference, almost as they always had. But the rising and falling sun made her realize time was moving forward, and it was worse then standing still. 

 

Asch remembers- is reminded, being here in this dark place, what life had been like. 

 

She’s there, in the lower courtyards, she shouldn’t have been- Illidan told her so, but then she never listened. Asch feels the heat of the stone beneath her soft pink feet, delights in it for once as she roams the expanse of the stone field, nothing is here- at least nothing that would bother her. Illidan often looks down upon this place, was he now? Asch was too nervous to look, too giddy with the rebellious feeling she had. It was a thrill- that he might be, staring down at her defying him, he didn’t like such things, not when his hunters dared, not when his generals did. 

 

Asch was defying him and it was a game. 

 

It fueled whatever prompted her idea of going toward the war machines, the great fel-belching monstrosities that she had never seen fire, she was too tender for such a thing, Asch almost dares to peak up at the perch, but stops herself because of he is up there, the game would end. 

 

Asch touches the onyx metal casing, surprised to find it is cold against her finger tips. Asch runs her palm over it and relishes the cold, forgetting almost what it felt like. There is a sound, a rustle, and Asch removes her hand. It smelt like noting as she prickles her nose, sniffing the air, but it was something indeed. Illidan wouldn’t be coy with her, wouldn’t slink out of her vision- he couldn’t, he wa not a man who hid from anything. No, it wasn’t her mate, his presence was heavy, terrifying to all and so pleasant to her- she would feel him, smell him- because he did not hide

 

Asch glares, furling up a little in annoyance and fright, desperate to quell the latter, showing fear would do her no favours here. Asch looks about, a wide glance around the all together empty courtyard, and hisses lightly in an omega way that lets whoever know she feels threatened, and bears her ineffective little fangs as if that might do something.

 

“Such hostility.” The voice was silk, venomous. Asch’s ear perk and she spins, face scrunched as she stumbles back trying to put space between the too-close voice and herself. It was an elf- but it wasn’t any elf. Asch angles her chin down, doesn’t allow him, of all people, to see any submission. 

 

Kael’thas Sunstrider grins, an amused chuckle escaping him as his elegant brow arches, challenging her submission as if he had a right to it. “Whatever are you doing here?” His tone was shaking her, his voice laced with command and alpha. Asch fought herself, visaibly struggled not to speak, Kael’thas looks utterly smug about it. “Where is your beast of an alpha darling?” He spits the word beast, his lips curls with all the distaste for him in the world. 

 

“Your Lord.” She hisses, but he is unaffected by her malice as all alphas were, her voice didn't have the power his or Illidan- or any alphas did. “Yes. My Lord,” he mocks, humouring her she thinks, as if she was someone he simply humoured. There’s a terrible feeling of course, suddenly, it had dawned. Illidan was not watching, for if he had been, he would be here not allowing this other alpha to nip at her heels. 

 

It was not lost on her that he was, poking at her armour, doing everything he could to have her whimper and yield to his authority. His motives were unhidden, his aim to insult Illidan using his omega. Asch swallows a sound and exhales angrily for it, irritated that it almost had the audacity to escape her in the first place for this stranger alpha. 

 

Kael’thas looked ever so interested in bothering her however, and begins to circle in a long and lethargic way, a content predator confident his prey was secure. It was arrogant of him, but Asch was too afraid of what he might do if she tried to leave, would he grow vicious? Sink his teeth into his uncooperative catch? 

 

Asch hides another whimper with a sharp, aggravated exhale “If you seek Lord Illidan he is not here.” Asch bites pointedly, willing him away with her response, though they both know it won’t send him away, despite wanting Illidan earlier, he seemed utterly bored with her answer. “Yes he isn’t.” He purrs at her, “It begs the question; why are you, omega?” Asch squirms at the sound of his voice and he grins in satisfaction, but she wills enough bite in her to respond “I do not have to answer to you.” It was the most cavalier she has ever been with an alpha, and if he’s shocked, he doesn’t show it. 

 

Asch didn’t like how it made her feel. Kael’thas’ throat trills with a low rumble, it emulates the affect Illidan’s has, but none of the fondness, still she feels her thighs grow wet. Kael’thas sniffs at the change in the air and coos in victory as he stops, too close, to her. “You’d like too, though, wouldn’t you?” It’s the last thing he says, before his presence is consumed by purple,  vibrant magic, and Asch is left trembling there, wet and ashamed. 

 

It’s a long time, before she moves, before she breathes. How long? She didn’t know, maybe it was shorter than she expected, it couldn’t be as long a she imagined because someone would be missing her-

 

Illidan. 

 

Asch is furious, mortified and empty. Kael’thas left with her dignity in the palm of his hand, no doubt smug and pleased with himself, not really knowing- or maybe not caring what he caused. Maybe he knew exactly what he did, that this was what he wanted, to make another mans omega slick and heat ridden. Asch stands on shaky legs, falling once and keening loudly in upset as she struggled to get back on her own two feet. She was getting hot- too hot for the robes clinging to her skin, the churning in her belly made her want to lay in the stone and whine for someone- anyone to find her. 

 

Illidan- Illidan- Illidan.

 

Asch forces her feet to move, almost too numb to feel it, she counts each step, leaving tiny, heavy drops of slick in her wake on the stone. 

 

She knows- knows there are places she cannot go, places she would find horrible trouble, Illidan has only taken her here once, but it was enough that her blurry eyes and foggy mind got her there- though her nose was leading them both, she could smell alphas, they were behind heavy doors and dark hallways- but she knew the unmistakable scent of virile alpha. They were all condensed into one space, fighting to overpower the other all so desperate to mark their territory. None of them however cling to this place quite like Illidan had, his scent was everywhere, intended or not. 

 

Asch weakly pushes at the door, her throat so dry it hurt to swallow, she makes a pathetic noise, but presses on, shoving at the door and forcing it to give. Once it does it swings open on its thick hinges, nothing so big or heavy should have done anything with the speed it had, but all so suddenly it’s clapping into the stone, resounding through the room as she puddles in the door, practically sobbing in need. 

 

Whatever meeting was happening affectively ended with her arrival, her eyes were too blurry and fat with tears to see anyone clearly, but there were lots of bodies here. 

 

Alpha- alpha- alpha.

 

Asch keens loudly, miserable and gone, too gone to recognize her behavior and be mortified as it would have made her if she could hold a thought longer then Illidan and alpha and hurts. None of them move, at first, stunned enough they just stare. Asch makes one final attempt, “Alpha“ she whimpers, too hot and too dizzy, she wants to lay on the slightly cooler floor, and almost does, before something has her. 

 

Warm and rough hands pull her away from her descent, bringing her into a firm chest. Asch instantly inhales the fel-and-forest scent, alpha, her brain purrs, mate- good. Asch plasters herself into his skin, rubbing her nose into the tendons of his throat, licking a stripe over his pulse as she absently lifts up her skirts, desperate and forgetting where she was. Asch only gets as far as her shiny thighs before Illidan stops her, his hands grabbing both of hers and pulling them away. Asch huffs noisily, miserably, though Illidan is looking over his shoulder, commanding something to those around the war table. Asch is only keen to the exposed throat and takes it as invitation to-

 

Bite.

 

The alpha jerks ridged, her teeth dig into his flesh as he snarls, absolutely furious. His fingers lift hastily to the back of her neck, pinching the flesh above the bulb of her spin, Asch pulls from his skin, a moan escaping with her breath as her lashes flutter and eyes grow heavy. Illidan growls angrily, the noise goes straight to her cunt and Asch feels herself gush into the floor.

 

Asch licks the blood from her mouth, pulling her head back until the column of her throat is expose, little muted noises escaping her as she fidgets in his hands. The hot blanket of his wing comes around her, but suddenly it flicks back, then the sound of the double door she didn’t open thuds into the wall. Asch hates the sound, her ears were too sensitive now for such loud noises, but his wing returns, shadowing her. 

 

Then it started to hurt, it had before, but this. Asch couldn't bare this. Asch can’t halt the pathetic little whimpers escaping her, doesn’t want too, “Alpha please- please-“ she wails, pawing at him to do something- suddenly however, something happens. Asch isn’t sure what she sees, but she knows what’s there, paused in the door, she makes out the red blur of colour and recognizes. Asch doesn’t get angry, doesn’t hiss and bite and do anything now that made her feel bad before, but she stares at the halted figure, and nuzzles into Illidan; spouting “M-Mate me alpha-Illidan please.” Asch coos softly, staring at the red blotch. “W-Want y-your k-knot.” She makes a dangerous point to the blurry red alpha. He might have done this, but Illidan is the only one allowed to fix it.

 

Get out.” Illidan’s voice is dark, echoed with something sinister, unlike anything she’s heard. Illidan wasn’t looking at her, his chin propped atop her head and swivelled in the direction of the door. There was a snarl beside her, Illidan growls back, subduing the noise with the finality of his own, there’s more power, more rage and more reason in his. Whatever challenge the other gave, it clearly couldn’t outmatch him. Asch exhales a soft little moan as she feels his possessive hands squeeze her flesh, she stirs at the display of his utter authority. 

 

The door was slammed shut, so hard in fact the hinges screeched in protect around their old sockets, the mighty sound carrying through with the whiff of furious alpha wafting in the air. Asch isn’t concerned, isn’t bothered by the sound she is too busy pulling the silks from her body. This time he does not stop her, this time he carefully watches, attentive and purring in approval. Asch lets the wet thing slap into the ground and spreads her thighs, dribbling slick into the floor. 

 

Her cunt was empty, aching for him to fill it, but he doesn’t, not yet. Asch whines, arching her back, exposing her neck desperate now to entice him. She tries to pull his hand between her legs, but he doesn’t budge, she doesn’t understand until she finally blinks the blurriness away and sees he is taught like a bow and sniffing the air. Illidan looked unimaginable irritated, twitchy and furious, his cock was obvious under his leathers, straining against the seams. Asch just barely got to brush her fingers over it before he snatched her hand away, moving to action. 

 

Illidan was fast, one might not expect that from something as dangerous looking as him, maybe strength, but not speed. Though, some were foolish enough to forget, Illidan was a Kaldorei, once and still. Asch is plucked from the floor, brought high to his chest, tucked in his neck. Asch can no longer see, but she can hear him gather her dress and shove the doors open and closed. If her mind was with her, she could summarize he was taking her to their rooms, but all she could do was lick his throat and whimper. 

 

It was a flash, mere seconds before she’s returned to the den, the scents of them mingling in the air with Illidan’s palpable fury. Her dress so thrown into the floor to waste and Asch is swiftly dumped on the bed, left only a moment alone, and then he returns. Illidan shoves in his place between her legs, his naked hips pushing her thighs wide. His cock lingers against her cunt, but he is no tease. Asch cries out when she is full of him, she basks in everything she can touch, begging but she can’t hear herself.

 

Illidan still has enough sense for it, listening. He hears her, “Alpha c-claim m-me please, please, please-!” And he answers, she has little choice but to hear his deep, purring voice “I’ve already claimed you, omega.” He reminds her with a particularly bruising thrust, Asch cries out, baring her neck anyway, and Illidan bites her anyway. It’s like a thunderbolt impacting the ground, the white hot feeling of being struck by something so powerful she’s left breathless and simple. Illidan snarls noisily around her throat, gripping the skin with his teeth, his hips smack viciously into her, shoving his knot passed her entrance, rallying yet another cry from Asch. 

 

It’s not long after that does his knot swell and catch on her rim, locking them together, Illidan is weak, a gasp rips him from her neck as a shiver rocks his body in earnest, his hips rock and push his knot further into her, gushing his finish inside her belly. Asch is warm all over, weak sweaty hands slip from his back and lay limp on the sheets. Illidan’s wings droop, casting a shadow on either side, keeping her hidden.  

 

 

Asch wonders if that was the day their baby was conceived, as she stands there in front of his husk, staring at the melted green color of the crystal. All she can make out are the sharpest features of his shadow. Malfurion lingers, awkwardly, but he does it for her, so she doesn’t not feel alone. 

 

But Asch doesn’t, as she sits on the cold unforgiving stone. She doesn’t speak, she doesn’t think she needs to. Asch lifts her hand, touches the surface and feels the smooth, almost buttery texture of the crystal. It’s warm, near uncomfortable, it seeks her out and settles in the middle of her palm. It brings a watery smile to her face, Illidan.

Chapter 179: Rommath dabbles 8

Summary:

Rommath/Asch Lightbleeder

Back again with some more excitement!

Hope you enjoy!

Chapter Text

The sky was falling in heaps.

 

The sky was falling into the city. 

 

Rommath grabs Asch, yanking her into him as he casts a barrier spell with the weave of his hands, forming it around them in a half moon, scorching the limestone beneath their feet in a wide circle. The flames liven into a bone fire, it arches up in a dome around them, almost obscuring the outside and the horror that now descends upon Silvermoon in a tide of Fel fire and stone. The earth begun to shake with their impact, exploding buildings- people in a brilliant shock of sickening emerald. Cries of anguish flood into the nightmarish sky, broken only by thudding booms and quaking foundations. 

 

The city was burning. 

 

Everything was burning.

 

From the ashen fel rose monsterous infernals, their cries of rage echoing into the depths of the city, Rommath can see one rising from the chunks it fell from, his eyes grow with with horror, “No-“ he spouts in utter agony, the Legion. From the clouds, the churning blackness, comes their ships, the decimators rain fire upon the city, hurtling iron and magic into the walls, crumbling it into rubble. 

 

His heart was pounding, his chest was sunken, he couldn’t think- he couldn’t move- then all at once, he stopped.

 

Asch

 

His gaze finds hers, the terror there outmatched his, but the distraction almost cost him their lives. 

 

A booming, utterly ear-shattering thud crumples the ground before them, the rumble animating in front of their very eyes, becoming easily a building sized infernal. It shrieks, it’s rock fist swinging into his flaming barrier, stumbling at the impact, furious that it hadn’t broken it. Rommath struggles as the thing bears on his shield, he had no answers, he had no idea what to do, he could protect himself, dispatch it easily if he wasn’t protecting someone else.

 

Rommath’s arms shake, he curses his weakness, desperate to keep it steady, though any moment it could shatter. The flames flicker, some parts of the shielding die, but Rommath forces himself to repair it, running out of ideas and strength quickly, “Asch-“ he struggles out, he couldn’t finish, his shield breaks like a mirror, its pieces extinguishing as if blown out like a candle. 

 

His first instinct is to dive in front of Asch as   the dust comes down, his hand, as fruitless as it might be, comes up, a flare of fire in his palm, awaiting the moment it’s hit.

 

But nothing comes, and Rommath stares with moon sized eyes at the brilliant twinkle of light, darkened by the infernals impact. There was a roar, a golden hammer files into his body, making it stumble and hiss like a beaten cat. The things attention is tossed to the offender, it’s scream shaking the ground as it’s body whips around. “Be gone demon!” From the side lord Ayven charges, his silver long sword in his hands as his mantle flutters in the wind behind him. 

 

Their protection doesn’t last long, only enough to grant precious seconds, Rommath uses them as the devine shield fades away “Go!” He shouts to Asch, conjuring a grand fire ball from his hands, hurtling it at side of the beast as Ayven slices into the rock, making rubble fly from its body. 

 

Rommath heard the sound of loud, rushing feet against stone and is secured in the thought he doesn’t have to fear for her now as he casts another deadly spell. The infernal struggles to focus on either of them, furiously flinging its limbs without direction, it’s body chipped away by their attacks until it began to bubble from the inside and explode in a rage, the pieces flying in all directions.

 

“My lady!” Ayven cries out, Rommath pulls a shield around himself, stopping the rocks from impacting his body, making them hiss and crumble as they pelt him. Before Rommath has the chance to do anything Ayven is already casting another protection upon her, his shields glittering gold, just like him. 

 

Ayven throws his stark blue mantle over his body moments before he is assaulted with rubble, chunks tear into cloth shield and surely hurt, but Rommath has no mind to be satisfied with that. Before all else, Asch is upon her feet, running frantic as the glittering shield fades. Rommath is paralyzed, wondering what she could possibly be running from, but then considered what she might be running too

 

It wasn’t lord Ayven, she cleared passed him, though he is readily trying to catch her now, a clear black and bluish mark marring his face where rock hit him. “Asch-“ his voice is swallowed by the defending boom of the ship above, another horrible, molten ball of Fel fire is flung at the city. 

 

And in that moment, Rommath knew what they were aiming at, and why she ran. 

 

“Asch no!” She could not hear him over the consuming sounds, but his hands are as quick as his mouth. Around her he creates a barrier, one that she stumbles into in her haste. Asch screams, he can see it, the utter terror, rage and sorrow. Asch crumbles to the ground, clawing at her fiery prison and all of them watch the neighbourhood burn before them. 

 

It truly wasn’t any more special than the rest of the city, it’s rows of houses all the same, but Rommath could pick out the one with the ivory roof with the slanted finishing. The little garden on the left side of the house and the rounded top door that was unusual, but he knew was a preference of the lady of the house. 

 

All of them, he, Asch, and lord Ayven watch it burn and bloom into pieces of rubble. The rows of houses turned to waste in a matter of seconds. Rommath is the first to act once more, his feet fast under him as he runs to her, he can easily pass through his own fire and grabs Asch, but she does not resist. She weightless in his hands, the sounds of anguish the only lively thing. Lord Ayven stumbles and trips into the shields, spent of his magic and strength. Rommath, duty bound as one of the cities protectors, teleports all three of them into the sanctum of their city. 

 

 

Lor’themar and Halduron are frantic, the Citadel shakes with each impact, but does not fall, does not break. Rommath has his magic ward each crack, it would not fall. Lor’themar is commanding, though he hardly can hide the terrified look upon his face as he directs the guards into groups to round up any survivors. 

 

“The magisters are to go with priests and find as many as you can and teleport them here-“ he shouts over the steady booms, “Rommath thank the gods!” Lor’themar exhales in relief upon noticing his arrival. “I need- what’s happened?!” Asch’s sobs are muted in Rommath’s shoulder as he holds her, “It- her parents- they’ve...” Lor’themar’s eyes widen. “The high priest cannot be dead!” Ayven spouts, furious, but Rommath think he’s had no right to be. 

 

“Grand magister return me there at once! I will find them!” He says, mighty and arrogant as all Paladins Rommath has come to know. “I will not.” Rommath bites at him, cradling Asch in his arms as he stands “You will be slaughtered and I will not help you in your suicide.” Though the look upon the others face says he is no longer listening, “I will find them for you my lady, I will see them safe!” Rommath doubts she was listening, doubts the sentiment even reaches her over the anguished cries. 

 

Though Rommath is torn himself, he had a duty to his city, but he cannot leave Asch like this to suffer alone. However just as he frets over it, Aethas- albeit rather eagerly, comes to him. “If you’ll allow me Grand magister I will direct your magi in defence of the city.” Aethas was being helpful, but Rommath felt as though he was being picked at by a thieving vulture. Lor’themar grunts, nodding for him, “See her taken care of Rom, I’m afraid there is little else we can do but search and rescue now.” It was simply a fact, but the blow was heavy on them all. They could do nothing as their city was ravaged once more.

 

There would be no proper fight, in fact there would be no defence of the city at all. If the Legion wanted Silvermoon, they would have it, they could not defend their own city against such an attack. It was decided long ago that if a force were to come here they would take their citizens and abandon their ancestral home. The numbers of their people diminished each day, one loss just as heavy as a thousand. If it came, and Rommath knew it would, they would flock to their Warchief, their once proud race reduced to refugees. Though, the Sin’dori were no strangers to wounded pride, they would swallow this like they had all other blows and still hold their heads up. 

 

“If I am needed-“ “If you are needed.” Lor’themar nods firmly, allowing no more said. Rommath curls his lip, stalled a moment before taking a reluctant step toward his tower. 

 

The walk up was long and there were many stairs, but Rommath used the time to gather his thoughts, scrambled as they may be. Rommath can’t think about the city longer than a moment before he grows frantic and unable to breathe. So instead he thinks of Asch, and focus’ only on what he might do to help her. There are no words he can give her that would settle her agony, he could not comfort her mind, but he might succeed in comforting her else where. 

 

Her feet were black from dirt and the dress she wore was ragged and exposing. The least he could do was draw a bath and find her proper clothes. Food too because he has not seen her eat and rest. All the things he could do. 

 

He conjures a small guardian as they come to his quarters, one level above his office. It already goes about filing the bath, conjoined with his tasks in mind. He sets her down a moment, but she wasn’t having that. Asch pulls him back, hugs herself to him, “I know,” he doesn’t, but he tries to be comforting as well as he knows how. “Rommath-“ she cries, softer now but her tears flow down her face and into his robes, there was a large dark patch on his shoulder now from it all, but it was the last thing on his mind. 

 

“There’s a bath for you, if you would like it.” He whispers, feeling as though anything louder was offensive now. Asch nods, timid and crestfallen as he lifts her. Rommath is still a gentlemen and doesn’t look when she strips her tattered robes, “I’ll find you something to wear,” he leaves her reluctantly, squeezing her hand before going. He left the door open, but the bath is obscured, his little guardian is with her, it’s calm little ambient noises filtering though his chambers. 

 

Though Rommath knew he wasn’t suppose to, he conjures magister initiate robes, he figures no one will notice, or at least care to comment. When he returns to her he can see her sitting on the wooden stool beside the draining bath, skin raise pink from cleaning and- thank the gods, a tiny smile upon her face as his guardian spins for her amusement. Where it learned such a thing was beyond him, but then magic was mostly emotion and an extension of its creator, so it might have, in parts, to do with the fact he was desperate to do anything he could for her. 

 

Asch takes the robes from him and pulls it over her head, loosening the towel and the dark red robes cover her. They fit nicely, better suiting her then the temple robes she wore. “I have food laid out for you, if you would like to eat something.” Rommath would like her to eat something, but he doesn’t force it. “Will it spoil?” She asks, sniffling slightly, “I-I’d like to l-lay down.” Rommath nods, guiding her to his bed, “Of course, rest.” He doesn’t offer himself, giving her no choice but to accept his comfort as he slips under the furs beside her, enveloping her in his embrace. 

 

Asch settles at least, seemingly out of tears, though he knows better. 

 

Asch falls asleep moments after they get comfortable, sleeping on his most used pillow, there was tension in her face but that was expected. Rommath however had not expected what their first night together would be, but then he never gave it much thought. 

Chapter 180: Turalyon Dabbles 1

Summary:

Turalyon/Asch Dewrose

So this was easily one of my longest pieces. It almost clocks in 7k, I used Word this time to write and edit, which I'll be trying to use in the future for all my works. Hopefully you guys like this, it was a bit of a stretch for the character, but I really wanted to try a slow burn story with Turalyon because I noticed that there is very little publication out there for him, especially explicit natured works. I really enjoy what I did, hopefully you will too!

As always, enjoy! And if you feel like it leave a comment for me, I love interacting with you readers, brings me a lot of joy!

Chapter Text

 

 

                She sees him there, standing with all the might he has forever had. He was of the most special kind, his presence unmistakable and undamped no matter the crowd around him, unable to swallow him. Something, though, makes her hesitate going to him, something that would have been mistaken by the crowds, something lost among the unimportant.

It was a little thing, her clothes were poor, ratted at the ends by wear. Hair weighted by brown dirt and grey dust, but might have been as white as his own, if it was clean. Though it looks as if it never had been. Her skin was dirty, marred with ugly blacksmith marks, grime and oil, but her eyes were a serene yellowish, a twinkling gold, as if they might have been two gems hidden in the woes.

Alleria glares, she has always been told better of such, it would ruin her face, age her like it has her husband. The lines of age across his forehead, his mouth and eyes were handsome, at least, they always were on men. Smile lines catch on his face, his spirits brightened by something that was said to him, her ears were not keen, not alert enough to hear.

She watches, as the unimportant, becomes important with a single, irritating touch from her husband. The unkept girl shines under his attention, smiling softly just for him, her ears stiff and pink poking from the mountain of her dirty hair.

Alleria knew better, she did, she always did, but she breaks from the tree line, her hidden cowardly spot and marches toward the crowd of unimportant flock surrounding her lover. He doesn’t see her, to busied with his animated conversation, with making the girl laugh.

“I had thought it was-“ She is able to hear, before she interrupts “My love!” her own tone of voice makes her shrink and cringe slightly, but at least it gets his attention. The hand touching the girl doesn’t move, it stays firm on her upper arm, tender and kind. It boils something inside Alleria, because his only acknowledgement of her is a stiff fist knocked into his breastplate. At one time he might have kissed her, might have gone to her side and wound an arm around her middle, yanking her into his embrace, showing them all she as his women, like human men often love to do.

He doesn’t, hasn’t in an age, because they cannot touch each other without feeling the burn of their choices- of her choice. He isn’t in despair like she is, at one time he might have sensed it in her, but now he knows little of what goes on with her, what is in her head, because it is no longer her own. He is unfaithful. Something whispers to her, fueling her prickled mood, but she shoves it aside, not listening to what it- and the others have to say.

“What’s all this?” She dares to ask, flicking her sunny hair from her neck, the feathers tickle her face while the leather braid scrapes her back. “The finer mechanics of cleaning.” He grins at her, but it is not lost that he squeezes the girls’ shoulder before his hand parts, weighting on his hip as his head cocks to the side. Alleria’s fine brows pinch together, aggravated she does not understand his meaning, and he does not share more. Her eyes narrow, and this time he seems to understand something is amiss. “Excuse me, shall we walk together, Alleria?” He used to say lover. Alleria is reminded of how far apart they have grown with the arm’s length between them. A better, logical part of her knows it’s little more than a caution on Turalyon’s part, another part tells her that he no longer wishes to be near her as close as they have been. He’s found comfort elsewhere. Something caresses to her in a tender, hissing voice, Perhaps between the thighs of that other elf. Alleria shakes her head of it, Turalyon watches her, a frown consuming the better part of half his face while the rest is full of sorrow, his eyes mostly cast with uncertainty. “Something is wrong, what is it?” He says, softly, quiet so no prying ears in the brush may hear, Alleria hates the thoughtfulness of it, for once despising the gentle nature of her golden lover.

“What is it you were talking about?” She asks once more, feeling the fumes of her jealousy lick at the fire in her belly, Turalyon’s heavy brow scrunches in his eye line, a dribble of confusion drawing his lips open, “I told you nothing-“ She interrupts, “What were you speaking of with that girl.” There, now it dawns upon him, his face constricts with his body, stiffening in a recoil as they stop in the middle of the trail, consumed by the canopy of trees. Only little speckles of light touch his face, leaves shadowing across his armor in an attempt to leak through. Alleria felt in control, in her element now.

“Oh.” He says as if he knows her now, understands her. “She is a blacksmiths apprentice. She simply returned my sword to me.” Alleria scoffs under her breath, Turalyon looks at her flatly, unimpressed with her. “What else has she done for you?” It was ugly, unlike her, but then she was unlike herself now. Unlike anything that she used to be, unlike the woman Turalyon devoted himself too those hundreds of years ago. His expression darkens, its unfit for his face, but appropriate. Alleria hates his eyes, the wounded golden pools tainted with pain, with hurt. She has wounded him, her golden knight. His boots scrape against the ground, stepping away from her as if burnt by her accusation.

 

“Nothing. I would never.” He says, harshly, and she knows he wouldn’t. She knows, but she doesn’t believe it. He has replaced you, taken another as he refuses to take you. The ache of loneliness makes her believe their heinous whispers. “You have become so sickened by me you barely find time to return home.” Alleria bites at him, aiming for the weak underbelly of their marriage, if she wasn’t so furious, she might have been wounded by her own words. Turalyon’s jaw flexes, a gust of air escaping his fine nose, “I, like you have duties to attend, Alleria. It is you who finds our home less and less appealing.” It stung, his cuts sharp into her side, it was true, where hers were raving, angry lies, he was only ever truthful, could only be ever truthful. Her husband dwells in the day, she no longer finds the light comforting, it prickles her flesh with thousands of tiny swords as if to remind her she no longer belongs to the day, to the light-

To her husband.

“Alleria.” He says, readying for a speech, “You are my wife, I... I have tried, I can no longer touch you as I once had, lay next to you without the ache of our differences- but you. You are my wife; I have not forsaken our vows.” His voice trails off into a whisper, steeped in agony. His pain does not resonate with her, does not strike her as it once did. Her glove covers it, but she winds the linen wrapped around her hand to take hold of the simple golden ring off. “I have.” She mutters, voice warbled with darkness, with emotion that causes his eyes to widen in disbelief, with shock untold and hurt. The ring sits heavy in her palm, but it slips as she tilts her hand, letting it drop into the dirt between them, it is closer to Turalyon than she has been in years.

Nightfall was no good to anyone still out, the Kal’dorei were at peace under the moon, but no others were protected by her soft light. It was beautiful, everything was bathed in a tender glow, but it was not without terror. Shadows lurked where the moon could not see, dangerous things happened in the woods, dangerous people came out at night and did not fear mother moons gaze.

Asch should not have been one of the people lurking in the darkness, it was well past when she should have been sleeping, she would be exhausted come tomorrow. Her master would not be kind to her, her arm ached from hauling swords, maces and heavier. He would not care she didn’t sleep; she would not tell him. Asch could not sleep, not after today, Master Te’lyn allowed her to deliver High Exarch Turalyon’s sword to him. It was the first ever she had been allowed to do such a thing. Master Te’lyn worked on many lords- and kings’ weapons and armor, most notable, King Anduin’s. Asch was never allowed to touch it, not even allowed to look upon it. She marveled when she first saw the finished product, King Anduin was wearing it during an address of the people, it was a beautiful thing and she had told Master Te’lyn as much, he had already known it was a work of art.

Asch smiles up at the sky, her feet dangling off the edge of the drop into the lake. It was peaceful here, people bustling excitedly, entrapped by the night and her wonders. Father used to say the night was meant for lovers and trouble, but she sees so many kinds of people out. The air was crisp, cool here. The light of the moon bathes the castle, the pearly stone was beautiful, almost liquid with all its dazzle.

Asch wiggles out of her ratted dress, leaving it there on the grass ledge as she slips into the water, the plunge sparked every nerve ending she had, scorching her alive as she rises up to the surface, grabbing a gulp of air as she shivers in the cold water. She swims, spinning in the water and diving back into its recesses to warm her limbs and clean her skin of the grim she gathered today. It clouds the water around her, mucking the pure water around her, she watches with delight as it falls to the bottom.

Asch could see the pure, extravagant shape of the full moon above her, decorating the surface with its brilliance, so when a long shadow is cast over it, she stills, almost sinking. Panic had filtered through her, what was it? Who was it? Bubbles escape her lips, but she calms herself so she might stay under the water longer, worry filling her veins as ice nips at her toes. Asch is pushed by a wave made in the water, confusion feeding her addled, nervous mind as she looks over her shoulder, staring at the pale figure across from her.

Yellow eyes open like little beams of light, and for a moment, they stare at one another, wide and unexpecting of another person, as if they assumed no one else would be here, like she had. Together they rise from the embrace of the water, Asch pulls her hair from her face, watching as he- as High Exarch Turalyon does the same. Asch blinks, baffled, as does he. They say nothing for the longest time, but then he breaks the silence, and his warm, deep voice is a boon “I… did not think… I thought I was alone.” He states, carefully, watching her with intrigue. Asch swallows, her throat tickled by the cool water, her lips wet with beads of lake. “I… apologize, my Lord.” She mutters, looking away from his face. “Nonsense!” He declares, shaking his fine head, casting droplets from his silver hair. “I am sorry for disturbing you.” He makes for the edge of the water, Asch hesitates, wanting to stop him, it wasn’t her lake after all. She can’t however, her voice is lost as he climbs from the surface and sits upon the water’s edge. Lord Turalyon lingers a moment, a troubled expression overtaking his features. Asch moves in the water, his eyes shoot toward the ripple she makes, and she stops, fear consuming her. “The night is kind.” He says, soft as the breeze, “Kinder than I know them to be.” His words aren’t meant for her to understand, she thinks, but they mean something. Asch doesn’t know what she can say to a man like him, his sorrow is obvious, but her comforts would do little, it would not be profound, it would not move him. Still, he looks at her with his eyes dull of its usual cheer she has seen from afar that they have, and she must say something to ease his ache. “She is kind in the summer, to help us forgive how cruel she is in winter.” Asch says, he pauses, visibly pondering what she had to say, its new, that someone takes the time to do such a thing, usually she is ignored- but then Lord Turalyon was always kind, she doubts he remembers her from earlier, but still he is kind.

His shoulders lift with a small, gruff laugh, nodding, but it falls from his face, eyes glassed over as his hands lay open in his lap, she watches as he buries his face in his hands, a shudder escaping him. Asch says nothing, staring up at him unsure of what to do, unsure of what she had caused. His hands slip up his face, cart through his wet hair and pull it from his face, slicking it back with the wetness still clinging to his locks. “It’s you, isn’t it?” He wonders, head tilted as he observes her, “You brought me my sword.” He answers himself, but Asch nods, surprised that he could recognized her under all the dirt. “Thank you, that was fine work.” Asch smiles a little, “It was my Master, I will tell him you are pleased.” Now he laughs, shaking his head, “No.” he teases her, smiling lopsidedly, “The way you handled it. Most don’t know how to handle great swords.” Asch colors at his praise, smiling timidly, “Thank you my Lord…” She doesn’t feel worthy of his compliment, “I’m shocked you could lift it,” He continues, “I shouldn’t be, you are an apprentice of a Blacksmith after all.” Most people were shocked to hear she was a blacksmiths apprentice- many didn’t ask. Those who did assumed she was a jeweler, working with malleable metals and pretty gems.

Lord Turalyon twists, reaching for his linen shirt, pulling it over his head with a stretch of his arms, a delightful display of his muscles, his flesh still glistening with water, little droplets roll over his tight stomach until the shirt hides his cut figure. Big, she thinks with rosy cheeks, and very broad shoulders. His easy smile reaches her, despite the heat over her nose and cheeks, his head dips in recognition, he might have bowed if he was standing, but that was more than she deserved from a lord. “May you walk with the light.” He tells her, heaving himself up, slipping his leathers over his legs, leaving her to herself once more.

 

His words were kind, generic, but unlike those who have said it long before him, it was genuine.

 

They kept her warm as she walked her way back to her modest little home in old town, ducking away from the bustling bars and noisy streets. “Sister! Sister!” Asch hears from the front door a she shuts it, “Vytis!” Asch chides, watching his face fall as he skids to a stop beside the low burning hearth, “You should be in bed!” He pouts at her, “You should!” he sticks his pink tongue out at her, crossing his arms in defiance, Asch sighs, pressing her hands on her hips as she glares at him equally, after a moment she shakes her head, smiling, “Come on, we’ll both go to bed.” Vyitis grins, nodding as he runs back into their shared room. Asch follows sighing as she rolls her eyes. What trouble.

 

Turalyon slumps into his cushioned chair, staring at papers that he had not known to exist. Divorce Papers. It says in large, slightly curved letters. They were sent to him as an unkind jest, Alleria’s name already signed at the bottom. King Anduin, to his left and at the head of the table eyes it with a horribly obvious face, the boy unable to hide anything at all. Turalyon couldn’t blame him for it, Alleria had purposely sent them this way, without an envelope and currier that too, couldn’t hide how awkward the affair was. Turalyon squeezes his eyes shut as he hears the subtle creak of everyone else’s chairs, leaning over to see the wreckage that was his marriage plain on the table as a festering open wound. Anduin leans in his chair, pretending at comfort and ease, “High Exarch if you…” Turalyon shakes his head sharply, grinding his teeth as his grip on his chair arm splinters the wood. “Turalyon-“ He tries again, but Turalyon interrupts him “I don’t- I’m fine.” He insists, without permission his hand finds the quill and scrawls his name, leaving a splotch of ink to bleed into the parchment. The currier takes it gingerly, scrunched in pain as if Turalyon might hit him. “Continue, my King.” Turalyon mutters through clenched teeth, staring blurrily at nothing and seeing red at the edges of his vision. Anduin does so, but hesitantly, and not without his gaze flicking over to him often enough to keep attentions on Turalyon. Though the commander is no longer paying attention, slumped in his chair and unlike himself, his mind is lost. What has he done? What hasn’t he done? Why did Alleria want this?

Why wasn’t he enough for her?

Turalyon was tolerant enough of her wishes to study the void, wasn’t he? He did not demand she stop, did not forsake her for becoming its master. Though it had meant they could no longer be close, no longer hold each other in the cold nights or even be close, he could endure, for her. But, was that true? Turalyon loved his wife dearly, but was he being honest with her? Was he being honest with himself? He could have been better to her, should have known how broken they were. He had forgotten how to see her, his wife. Turalyon remembered the day, when she returned her very scent twisted by the void, on that day he had forgotten who his wife was, forgotten how to understand her.

 

It couldn’t be his fault alone, could it? No. Alleria chose her path and did not care to tell him, she expected him to understand, expected him to accept her newfound power, he could have with time. They had spent nearly a thousand years together- they had a son together. Turalyon despaired, Arator, how could he tell his son this? Arator searched all those years for his family and once more they were torn apart. Surely, he wouldn’t, someone would gossip before Turalyon could find the right words to tell his son. It would be sour; he wouldn’t be forgiven for this. Turalyon scrubs his face, returning to the meeting enough to see it had ended, most already leaving as Anduin lingered in his seat as he usually does, but this time his soft, tender eyes- too tender for a king, look at him with a mix of pity and sadness, the same kind of sadness one would have for all things that end. If the papers were not enough proof his marriage had ended, that look, was.

“Turalyon.” Anduin says cautiously, as if something might happen. “Anduin.” Turalyon mutters unhelpfully, adding nothing but an acknowledgement of his king. A little sigh escapes him, he looks away, but Turalyon knows he isn’t dismissed. The boy- and Anduin was a boy. Rests a hand on his wrist, the light in his king was strong, and his comfort was simple, sweet really. Anduin couldn’t possibly know his pain. Shouldn’t ever. He tries, for his sake he tries. There was so much goodness in this child- a king that was younger than his own son. Turalyon eases his eyes shut, breathing his pains out as he felt the fingers tighten. There was power, too, in this king of kings. “Come.” Turalyon mutters, getting up, determination in his face as he looks hard at the pearl stone wall, “Show me what your father taught you.”

 

They clash swords for hours. Their blades dulled and ruined from the constant blows. Youth did his king the favor of keeping up where Turalyon had stamina. They were soaked through their clothes, panting and strung out, but Anduin held his head and battled Turalyon’s blows, his poor king wouldn’t stop, wouldn’t yield, despite the shake in his legs. Turalyon sweeps his arm across his forehead in a spare moment of their combat. Anduin pants openly, his feet dragging up dirt and grass. Turalyon flicks his head, Anduin exhales, it was a mercy, Turalyon admires his king’s tenacity. The yard was empty, save the songs of wildlife chirping from the canopy of the scant trees here. Anduin digs his sword into the beaten earth, standing tall because pride wouldn’t let him slump. Turalyon smiles to himself, “You’ve learnt well.” He calls over, watching Anduin regard him with a tired expression. “Genn, mostly. My father taught me to handle bows.” Turalyon grunts, wiping his face with a spare scrape of cloth. “My wife-“ Turalyon cringes inwardly, amending, “Alleria taught me some. It never stuck.” Anduin casts a look, but he’s a little too far now for Turalyon to tell what it might be. “What’s happened Turalyon?” He asks candidly, and for a moment, Turalyon forgets how youthful his king truly was.

He doesn’t have much of an answer, so he shrugs, easing down into the dirt and wiping his hands, “We haven’t touched each other in hundreds of years.” He divulges as Anduin comes closer, sitting himself nearby, looking thoughtful as ever, more thoughtful then a boy his age should ever. “Her... affiliation to the void?” He fishes, Turalyon bobs his head, “And mine to the light.” Turalyon tosses the cloth into the dirt, continuing, “We both failed our marriage. I wasn’t… I didn’t understand her as I should have- but... but Alleria grew distant… I thought it was just adjusting to our life here. Out of constant danger.” It was long before that but saying that aloud would have made him crumple inside.

“People call our romance tragic-“ He laughs a little at the absurdness of it, “It wasn’t tragic we had each other. For a hundred lifetimes… we… we had each other.” It was, at least, now, tragic. Turalyon felt a surge of anger, it burnt at the tips of his fingers with no place to go, he wouldn’t make Anduin spar any longer, that would be far too cruel, and they were both too prideful to give in to the other. “Now she wants little to do with me.” Anduin is struck as if the blow wounds him personally. “I… am so sorry Turalyon.” His words fall short of their intention, but Turalyon appreciates that he tries. “It is no matter,” untrue, but it makes him feel better to ignore it, “We have won this war, that should be celebrated.” The Horde could no longer fund their efforts of war, Baine Bloodhoof, who resides in this very castle, has said as much. It was only yesterday that Lor’themar Theron sent the armistice, his seal decorating it along with the signatures of the rest of the cobbled together leaders.

Turalyon was a peace-loving man, a man that did not go looking for war, but found it anyway. It was not in their best interests to halt their advance, but Anduin insisted they pull their forces from the enemies borders, leave them to lick their wounds, With Sylvanas’ betrayal the Horde was left without a leader, not a single one willing to lift their flag and carry the burden of their people. A council would be put into place, many voices instead of one, Turalyon took it as a weakness. Sylvanas might have been many things, but she was a leader, she had made her choices, whatever they had been for. They would bury her now, Tyrande would not do without the blood of the banshee decorating her weapons, Turalyon, too, had a vested interest, if only because of his wife. Now, his king called for her head and he would have it.

Anduin does not share the sentiment, but then, he was a priest by trade, Turalyon once knew that feeling, the call of all life, how precious it was. Becoming a warrior- a paladin, made him somewhat jaded to the plight of his enemies. They’ve all made their choices. “There will surely be celebrations. You might try and find one of them.” Turalyon cocks his head, a lazy smile ghosting his features, it makes a pull at the old scar across his mouth. Anduin’s brow raises into his hairline, “Me? What about you?” His voice was tilted with humor, but Turalyon knew he was serious, he felt lighthearted enough to say; “I am too old for such things.” Anduin’s sweet laughter fills his ears, “You are too old for everything then, High Exarch.”

“I might be, my King.”

 

The advice did not go unheeded, Turalyon decided to take the little good-natured nudge from his king and find a celebration to soak his woes into. Drinking would not help him forever, but tonight it might dull his ache, if only a little. The barracks are bustling with soldiers, he could hear singing and uproarious laughter. As he approached, he was greeted by grateful soldiers, praising his skills as their commander, granting him more accolades than he really deserved. He accepts them without a fuss, not wishing to dampen their spirits. Turalyon scans the grounds, chairs and tables littered the area, full of men and servers, some girls dressed in little else but scraps of cloth. Turalyon ignored it, holding his tongue of disapprovals. He ducks his head so not to hit the decorations adoring the entrance, the little tassels tickle his hair. “Hail! Commander!” One soldier says loudly, prompting many others to start, Turalyon lifts his hand, acknowledging their excitement with little else. It was much louder here, the instruments playing lively tunes as the men drink and sing. Turalyon had thought he would simply find a tank of mead and nurse it for a while, but something catches his eye that he had not expected to see.

It was pale as snow hair, decorated with chains and beads, feathers and braids. Turalyon frowns, seeing the scant cloth that served as an alluring outfit for the soldier sitting in front of her, his hands cupped her backside, snug under the silk panties. Turalyon rolls his shoulders, moving quietly across the room to scold he soldier, but jerks in shock as the girl’s face comes into his view. It was the blacksmiths apprentice- the girl from the lake. Her face was tight with a smile, her hands holding his shoulders, her ears were drooped, crestfallen. Turalyon draws his sword and it livens with light. Without much thought to his action he shoulders through the crowd to them, his great sword slicing between them, it wasn’t meant to harm the soldier, he didn’t even remove his hands.

Turalyon curls his lip, “Take your hands from her, boy.” His sword illuminates the pale exposed skin of the girl, the gems decorating her skin shine spots on the floor. Drunk as the soldier might have been, he does as Turalyon commands, Turalyon heard the music fade, the burn of many eyes scolding his back. Turalyon grits his teeth, yanking an absent cloak from the table and giving it to her without a word. The girl’s hands were shaking as she took it, Turalyon opens his arm, gesturing for her to leave and he follows her out, closely.

Once they were well away from the party, Turalyon stops, and sighs heavily “I am sorry he will be punished for that.” He promises her, the girl merely shrugs, “It’s alright,” she tries to lessen it with a small smile. Turalyon shakes his head adamantly, “He should not have touched you.” She seems less disturbed by it then he was, “Men like too touch, when they’re drunk.” Turalyon stares at her, gaze surely more intense than he intended because she shrinks away from his eyes, curling into the cloak. “What is your name, my lady?” She must have never been called a lady before, because her golden eyes widen with surprise, and it makes him consider that she might have had little kindness in her life.

“A-Asch m-my Lord.” Asch. Turalyon hums gruffly, “That is a beautiful name.” He tells her, and it fits, her ashen hair, the soft paleness of her skin. Her petal pinkish lips tilt, as her ears perk, it reminds him of his wife, and it hurts a little how sweet he finds it. “I’ll be in trouble if I don’t go back.” She whispers, looking over his shoulder, back toward the party. Turalyon doesn’t know why, doesn’t have a reason for it, but he steps closer, moving into her space as if to shield her from such an idea. He knows people are looking, that the string of events makes him out to be no better than the soldier he reprimanded but be damned the rumors of tomorrow. “Do they allow you to be… bought for the night?” He says only loud enough for her to hear, and with his words her ears burn with color. “N-No- well… Y-Yes…” She tells him, and he nods, once more gesturing her forward.

“I-I don’t k-know where… you’d like to… to.” She swallows, nervously looking at the ground between them, “I wouldn’t,” Turalyon tells her, “I wish to pay for your night and for you to go home.” Asch looks at him puzzled, but he only quirks a smile, “Walk with me, until we are out of sight.” Asch stumbles on the cloak as he nudges her forward, his hands catch her, “Won’t you get into trouble?” she says, grateful to him as they begin to walk along the cobblestone streets. Turalyon shrugs, “It matters very little to me what trouble comes.” It might tarnish his reputation as a holy man, in light of his divorce it might cast an unfavorable assumption upon him, but, what of it.

Asch leads Turalyon to a darkened part of old town and pauses, though he is not insulted she does not wish him to know where she lives, simply he produces his commission for the day and rests it in her hand, pushing her fingers closed, though once his hands lets her free, she opens it. “This is far too much!” Asch tries to give it back, “For the company,” He dismisses her attempts to give it back with gentle hands. Asch appears pensive, Turalyon leans toward her, and presses a gentle, sweet kiss against her cheek.

 

That was the last he thought he would see of her, there were rumors, of course, swimming around with the nobles, some tasteless as he thought, some baseless. Most commented on how lonely he was to find comfort in bought company after his wife left him. Turalyon did not deny he had grown lonely; it had only been a one month since he moved from his home in the Mage district to a tower in Stormwind keep. His bed was empty, but that was not new to him. It was enough of a home that when he was in solitude it did not eat away at him as it once did. Alleria wasn’t in Stormwind, for all he knew, at least. Anduin disclosed she had grown busy with her Children of void and found less and less time for anything else but training them. Anduin found no issue with this, neither did most around his council, though it wasn’t for his benefit, he knew.

Most the capitol was bathed in celebration, one crisis over and ready for the next, but now, they would revel in their winnings, Turalyon honed his skills, not daring to go soft despite the times of peace. The endless parties were a boon to the economy, Anduin encouraged it, so much so, that he had decided to hold one of his own.

Turalyon humored his young king, it was a gift, after all, for his advisors and allies. Most people of import were gathered around for pleasant conversation, Malfurion managed to show his face where his wife had not, but she had found no rest while the banshee lived. Her devoted husband only lasted long enough for a round of drinks, and promptly expired. The council of hammers were joyous, indulging in the drinks and jests. Turalyon stayed along the fringe, enjoying others. Anduin’s cheeks were pink after a few rounds with Magni, he would mourn tomorrow. “Turalyon, come sit!” Genn calls from his chair, raising his mug to the High Exarch. Turalyon was hoping to slink away, but is caught in the act and cannot say no. He sits, stiff in his chair with his warm mead and smirks at the wolf king. “Should have seen him at Stromgarde.” Genn starts, his hands wide with exaggeration, “Brilliant.” Turalyon chuckles, shaking his head in good nature, “Without the soldiers I would be but a prisoner.” Genn throws his hands of it, “Bah- Modest!” He barks, “You cut downs hundreds of men with that goliath sword of yours.” Turalyon grins, taken by the mood of the table. He raises his mug to his lips and takes a generous gulp of the warmed bronzed mead, “Untrue, closer to the thousands.” This makes the old wolf smile, a rumble escaping him as he throws his own drink back, grabbing another for his empty hand.

Mathias from his spot sips carefully at his drink, observing the table more than partaking in the excessive drinking, a dagger embedded in the meat of the fine table, as if to remind them of his dangers. Turalyon had no doubts the man was near sober and on edge. But what the cause was eluded the commander, and frankly, uninterested him. Whatever addled the Spymaster would stay with him, and Turalyon was hardly a confident to him.

Beside the stewing director, was Halford, who tilts his head in respect, his face unburdened by the heavy gilded helmet he hardly was without in Kul Tiras. His hair however looked swept with sea water and lighted since their time in the sunny Boralus. “Do much sea fairing, Wyrmbane?” Turalyon calls, sitting forward on his chair, eager to hear as the man throws his head back to laugh loudly, “Can you tell that?” he says, humming “With the armistice there is little left for me to do. Sailing keeps me busy. What keeps you busy, hm?” My wife- Turalyon swallows the pathetic, almost instant response, rolling back and thumping into his chair with a creek, a loud blow of air pushing out of his lips. “The king, mostly.” He lies, it was lazy, but the table was drunk enough to let it drop. What did he do with his time now? It hadn’t been long, he supposed it wasn’t honestly a lie. He was working, a lot.

Time hadn’t been a very friendly thing to Turalyon, it wasn’t as if he needed to count his days, but he wished he had something to make his days count. Shaw had been eying him for some time now, his gaze just as sharp as the knife before his face. Turalyon shifts, smiling cautiously, tapping the table before he raises, “I think I might retire for the night.” None of the stop him, Genn consumed in another conversation as he abandons the table to the brisk night air.

Turalyon wipes a hand through his hair, pulling some stray locks from his forehead. His cheeks were burnt by the cooling hair, but Turalyon liked the sobering breeze. “Troubled?” Turalyon turns his face, surprised to see Shaw leaning into the pillar beside him. Rogues. “You’re quite popular,” He muses, a quirked, sarcastic version of a smile resting on his face. “Your divorce is all anyone seems to be discussing.” When Turalyon doesn’t offer anything in return, he continues, “What is it exactly that makes it so interesting?” He sounded as if he was mocking Turalyon, but he lets it go. “How terribly tragic it truly is now.”

Turalyon must have been more drunk than he had thought, because he misses the moment when he moves, jamming his fist into the pillar by Mathias’ face. Credit where it is due, Shaw did not flinch, despite the defined crack spidering out from the impact of Turalyon’s knuckles. “Have I offended you?” Turalyon grits his teeth, sneering at the smug expression, “Apologies.” Though it is hardly genuine. Mathias eyes his fist, straining in the stone, “It isn’t difficult to see you aren’t horribly broken up about it.” He licks his lips, lifting his hand to pat Turalyon’s arm. “You bought a whore, and haven’t spoken to your ex-wife since.” Before Turalyon can defend himself, Shaw adds, “And I hear everything. Spymaster.” As if he had forgotten. Turalyon jerks his fist from the stone, prided by the dent left, but hiding the grimace that came with the throb in his knuckles. “She wasn’t a whore.” He mutters, shaking his fist to stave off some of the ache. “You gave her your commission. She should have been for that.” Mathias snorts, looking off into the sky, “Her name is Asch Dewrose. She has a little brother, Vytis. Her parents are dead, and she owns a little hovel in old town she can’t afford.” Turalyon blinks, puzzled, “Why are you telling me this?” He scowls. Mathias licks his teeth, smirking as he pushes off the pillar;

 

 “Because she will fix that horribly broken heart of yours.”

Chapter 181: Halduron dabbles 6

Summary:

Halduron Brightwing/Original female character

So I’ve been caught with a bit of writers block since the lull of content in warcraft, fear not though, I’m pushing through to update some old stories.
Hopefully I can get back on track, but for now enjoy what I have!

Chapter Text

Hal had watched months go by, the program was an amazing success, almost every woman in Silvermoon was six or so months pregnant, some nearly ready to give birth. Hal hadn’t been called again since the first time, neither had Lor’themar or Rommath- at first he wondered why, but Rommath had explained it would be a terrible idea to have the regent lord sire handfuls of children, and them for that matter.

 

So after the first, they had been excluded from the program after the doctor deemed it unsafe for them to repeat again. Lor’themar had been uninterested as to why, Rommath had simply said bastard children or not, they still had a claim upon their legacy. Halduron could not see how, since there was no way to prove who the father was unless their very private information was leaked, but it was always a possibility. 

 

Recently he had taken the program from his mind, all but forgetting its exsistence. His routine had not been interrupted, in fact with all the soldiers home it grew easier, less and less animals needed to be controlled as more and more were home killing the populations, bringing in food and wealth to Silvermoon. Building became inhabited, some rebuilt and others fixed, all around their city was prospering.

 

Even still, Hal felt empty, in a way he did not understand. 

 

It was any other normal day, he was walking home- a different route this time, when he came upon someone he had not seen in six months. Asch. 

 

Hal blinks, not recognizing her for a moment, but then her hair had been the tell. Longer then he remembered, pulled up in a ponytail as she worked. Asch was lifting a bag of dirt when Hal did something stupid. “You shouldn’t carry that!” He blurts, watching as the bag drops with a thump. Asch glares, but then her face grows shocked “you!” She says, “its you!” Hal has to laugh at her exclamation as he jumps over her fence, not entirely thinking correctly. 

 

Asch was beautiful, Hal noticed right away, she had always been, but now it seemed. More. Maybe because he knew the overly large bump protruding from her dress was his baby, maybe knowing what they shared had made him grow attached in a way he never expected. Hal could not say, but his heart sped up at the sight of her. 

 

“You’ll get us in trouble!” She chides, looking actually nervous, Hal chuckles, waving his hand as he picks up the dirt bag “we're only talking-“ he lifts it into the barrel not far from her and smirks, “you didn’t tell, did you?” Her face becomes beat red and she scoffs at him, trying to hide her embarrassment “of course not! Who is there to tell such a thing too?!” Hal looked around him and realized that she was trying to plant flowers in her lawn, deciding it would be cruel to make her do such a thing, he takes a shovel and begins to over turn the dirt “oh- I suppose...” he muses, a playful smile along his lips “sisters- friends- the whole city.” He watches her roll her eyes in disgust “I have no sisters. I have no friends- and it is not the whole city’s’ business!” Her outburst has him laughing, but in an endeared way. 

 

Lor’themar had had trouble with his partner, how excited she was to be having her regent lords baby and that she would tell everyone. According to Lor’themar after they had finished the girl was promptly given something to forget the whole night entirely. Rommath himself decided to forgot the ordeal and forced his partner to as well, both of them said how odd it was that Hal did not request it either. Though if he was being honest, Hal did not want to forget the night they had spent, the price they paid for the safety of the Sin’dorei. Hal wanted to know he had a child, wanted to remember the mother. 

 

 

“How- um... how are you?” He asks, mindlessly helping her as she sits on her legs, looking like a vision among potred flowers. “I am... well- what do you want Halduron?” Asch frowns up at him, slightly confused by his continued presence. Hal swallows, wondering exactly what he wanted? Asch shifts uncomfortably, hand stroking the top of her belly as she speaks “you aren't responsible.” Hal felt a rift break inside of him, the most most strangest feelings. He wasn’t responsible, but he being himself to feel that way. “I... I would like to be...” they stare at each other for a time, she was trying to see something in his face, Hal only hoping her eyes would not grow cruel. 

 

 

A small sigh escapes her lips, and she nods in a slightly defeated way, “it’s a boy.” Hal perks, taking that as permission to sit beside her, “yeah? That’s wonderful.” Lorthemar was having a boy as well, Rommath was having a girl. Asch shrugs, looking a bit detached as she stuffs dirt around a flower she placed in the bed in front of her home. “It is what it is,” she decides to say, and Hal blinks “why did you want a girl?” Hal didn’t care either way, daughter or son, he would still be proud. Asch stares at him flatly, brows presses down in her eye line “I don’t get the choice to keep him, so it doesn’t matter.” Then there was a glint in her eye, the setting sun making tears shine slightly “my first baby and I have no choice but to carry him, birth him and never see him again.” Hal shutters quietly, pain settling freshly in his breast, hardly considering what Asch was going through. 

 

 

Hal has no idea how women felt, forced to grow a strange mans child, forced to give it life and lose it moments after, some might not care, but it was awful still. 

 

 

“You wish to keep him?” Asch looks wounded at his words, “of course I do.” 

Chapter 182: Turalyon Dabbles 2

Summary:

Turalyon/Asch Dawnrose

I wanted to add more to this so badly but with Shadowlands out my brain shut off completely. I have been playing constantly since launch and I'm so in love! Expect to see some Sire Denathrius and Prince Renathal chapters as soon as I can tear myself away to write it!

Thank you so much as well, I know a ton of you really like this story so I will be continuing it of course! Just hold on tight for now because I have a lot I want to do and write, I jsut really want to play wow at the moment!
Enjoy!

Chapter Text

 

Turalyon spent hours considering, and then more trying to convince himself it was senseless. He was far too old. He’d mutter to himself, lying awake in his bed, staring up at the blackness of the ceiling. He has a son for Light’s sake, as if that would deter him- it should. Turalyon was old, was gray- was a father. He’d remind in his moment of weakness.

There were duties, too, he could make an excuse of. Something he would use to ignore the pit in his belly when his thoughts strayed, but it only grew in his ignorance, becoming unimaginable under his very nose. The loneliness would have been unbearable, if he was anyone else. Turalyon was alone for hundreds of years, staring at his wife from afar, sharing a smile he now realizes was vacant and bitter. Had they even tried to make something out of it? The first night, her fingers felt like hot pokers and her soft skin abrasive as splintered wood, he endured it, pathetically in love, and soft between his legs.

That was a shame he would never be rid of, the look on Alleria’s face said it all, she left in the night, he knew because she couldn’t hide from him, and the pain of her presence left with her.

Turalyon was cold, despite the swelter that fogged the night.

Where was Alleria? Was she well? Was she happy?

Was it his right to wonder these questions? 

No, Turalyon concludes, it wasn’t. His wife was a free as her namesake, what he thought once was in his reach, was never in his sight, foolish. He never strayed, she never had either, the least he knows to be true. In their isolation there were no other men of her taste, Turalyon might have expected this of her when they finally returned, but he was too blind by everything they were and what he thought they had.

Shaw was proving a thorn in his side, the unexpected interest in his romantic life was curious, the Spymaster must have something better to do with his time then taunt an old, lonely man. Turalyon bit as much at the man, Shaw should find a pretty girl for their king, that only made him grin madly, and proclaim Genn was trying as valiantly as ever to do so. What a mess.

Every night is filled with a new reason to celebrate and King Anduin does nothing to still the commotion the Capital makes, amused mostly how soldiers cheer and drink from dusk ‘til dawn, infecting every corner of Stormwind with joy unknown. It was wonderful, it had been so long since the people had anything to be happy about. Turalyon pretends he feels the same joy, making grand claims of joining his men in their revels, but never does. He a coward for it, but lately he’s just been tired. His exhaustion only worsens when King Anduin unfolds his plans to bring Lor’themar Theron back into the Alliance fold.

It had been something the king and his court argued for some time now, Silvermoon too far to make advantage, his people less than a tenth of what it was. Anduin argues that is the very reason they should be accepted, and Turalyon has no fight left in him to argue against his idealist king, because apparently, his father tired to do the very same thing. Theron is partially vacant in his wishes, if Turalyon was a suspicious man he might say it was a plot, but it was Theron’s own hand that composed the armistice on the Hordes behalf. 

Arator, it turns out, is largely brought in the fold concerning these conversations, Turalyon was insulted on his son’s behalf, who better then a half bred of both kinds?

“Father I hardly think that’s why.” Arator frowns, it was all too like himself. Arator was too young, too honored to be insulted by the blatant use of his person. Turalyon would be for him, much to his embarrassment. Military career or not, his boy wouldn’t be used like this. Turalyon claps his hand on his sons’ shoulder, reminded suddenly how, despite being taken by his mother, Arator has much the same stature as his father. Girls must be going mad to throw themselves at him, Turalyon has yet to see one, but there is hope still for his work-busy child.

He might do with Shaw’s attention, Turalyon thinks, with a twinge of amused irritation.

There is an awkward pause, “Mother is fine.” Ever the diplomat he was growing into, yet another thing he was required, now, to mediate. “I’ve told her much the same about you.” Oh, Turalyon thinks, I thought I taught you never to lie. A pathetic notion again, Turalyon taught him nothing but abandonment.  “I’m glad then.” He smiles, tensely and then drops it from his face. Arator looks as if he wants to try and say something, but shuts his mouth tightly, jaw working around his tongue, a habit passed on it seems, Turalyon chews his own.

Lor’themar Theron is greeted by Anduin with familiarity neither of them had with each other, but it thaws the moods around them, and surprisingly, Theron’s as well. He comes with few people, his Grand Magister Rommath and his Ranger General, Halduron, all three having equal parts in his conversation. Why they were bothered to join with the Alliance was yet to be understood, himself included in the curiousness, if only for the fact how many of his own people left his colors and joined to his wife’s. Lor’themar eyes him with unknown purpose, he used to be so apt at reading people.

It doesn’t bother him, there was a single common thread that attached them after all, his wife was Ranger General once, this Lor’themar knew, but wasn’t exactly recent that she left her command, so why his interest was there, Turalyon may yet find out. Arator is presented with an equally strange look, perhaps seeing his own kind mixed with that of a man was unsettling, a pale, ghost of a smile warms his tanned face, perhaps more favorable then.

Lor’themar is content at Anduin’s side as they walk through the castle, their conversation light until they reach the throne, tables and chairs set up for this prior. Turalyon wishes now more then ever he wasn’t as important as he was, still he sits without complaint beside Anduin, watching Lor’themar keenly as he sits across. “My father tried once before to untie our struggles.” He had failed. What point Anduin was making escaped Turalyon, but then, he had not been there, only caught up on the events of the past. “There was an equal share of pain.” Lor’themar adds, kindly, but Anduin twitches, and Turalyon can see under the table he grabs his leg, though long since healed, it no doubt still bothers him.

All of it must still bother him, “Your loss has no equal,” Anduin says, “So I give you the choice my father did all those years ago. What will you ask of me?” Turalyon admires his young king for how he has grown, his face no longer soft as it once was, he was beginning to look like his father. Turalyon glances over to Arator, who offers a kind smile, Arator, he thinks, looks more like his mother. Sentiment was likely making him see things, but he couldn’t help but notice how he had her smile.

“I ask only what we were once promised, is again.” Lor’themar speaks, his voice softer than what Turalyon expected it to be, age has softened his voice too. “Does the Admiral agree to this?” Rommath bites behind his high collar, but Anduin was ever composed, the question expected. “She’s not here for that very reason, Grand Magister.” A letter is presented, one that had Lor’themar’s name printed in careful looped letters. “Lady Jaina thought her presence would insult you, but extends her apologies in her letter, and wishes to meet if you are so inclined.” Lor’themar takes it, considering it in detail, what he thought of this wasn’t written on his face, a mystery of whether he found it insulting or not.

Whatever he feels, he takes it, standing, and Anduin follows suit, regarding him with unhidden curiosity, “I have finer points in regards, but I am not without shame.” He pauses, a sigh of regret leaving his mouth, “I had hoped to see your wife, Exarch, to... apologize. She took my people in when I turned from them. The void is neither a friend nor enemy, I should have seen that.” Turalyon curtly nods, a most unexpected thing coming out of his mouth before he could stop it, “Ex-wife.” What in all hells brought him to say that? Lor’themar’s eyes widen considerably, looking sorry as he’s ever seen an elf, he might have laughed at the pert in his ears, if it was at all funny.

“Oh- I- I’m very sorry.” Lor’themar sounds like he doesn’t know what to say, no one did and Turalyon hates how important he is. “It’s fine.” He rasps, thought it wasn’t, it wouldn’t ever be. Lor’themar pinches his lips together, turning on his heel, hesitating, peaking at him and Arator again, awash with emotions he shouldn't bother himself to have over Turalyon’s failed marriage. But perhaps, he judged the man too quickly.

“Well.” Lor’themar chokes, “For the Alliance, hm?” Oh, it was well and truly awkward now. Still Anduin perks, mouth hanging open, wholly caught in surprise, “For the Alliance.” Lor’themar has a small smirk on his face as he moves out of the throne room, Turalyon sits heavily back in his chair, well, he might just need a drink, or eight.

Mathias is insufferable when he finds out, and Turalyon doesn’t know why he stands the man, when had they even become friends? “Single handily the saddest thing I’ve heard- if it wasn’t so funny, I think I’d cry out of respect.” Mathias grins behind his glass, Turalyon rolls his eyes, “Have you taken my advice yet?” Turalyon frowns, cocking a brow, awaiting the answer to his riddle, Mathias makes him wait, swallowing his ale before hailing for another. “You must not have, you’d look less miserable- what happened, couldn’t afford it?” Mathias has a lopsided, knowing grin on his face, Turalyon glares, swiping his tankard from the wet table, “She was not a whore.” Mathias shrugs, “Anyone is anything for gold- what do you care? She could be does that bother you?” He shouldn’t have raised to his words, he knew it was a game, Mathias loved to play them so.

“She deserves respect.” Turalyon insists, and Mathias hums pleasantly, enjoying his answer apparently. “So, what’s stopped you?” He was too old. Turalyon swallows the response, shrugging as if he didn’t know, “You still wear your ring, too.” Mathias points curtly with his nose, Turalyon clenches his fist, hiding his hand despite wearing a gauntlet. “What business is it of yours?” Turalyon finds himself snapping, it’s utterly pathetic how devoted he was. Mathias has the decency to stop smiling, “She left you Turalyon.” He winces, without meaning too. “A long time ago.” Was it more obvious to everyone else how little his wife cared for him? “Give it to me, I’ll keep it safe- return it whenever you want it back.” Turalyon wanted it now. But he wasn’t that hopeless.

Turalyon tugs his glove off, sighing, he didn’t look at it as he jerks it off his finger. How strange it was after how many hundreds of years to take it off. It was a battle to even get Alleria to wear it, that might have been a clue of its own, but she was a wild thing, untamable and stubborn. Yet what she did, she did for them, for their son. Mathias yanks it from his grasp, Turalyon was surprised how little he fought back. Still, he hesitates, then decides. “This too.” Turalyon tugs the crude bead bracelet Alleria made him, dropping it on the table. That he could do without. Mathias gathers it up, stuffing both in a pouch, nodding soberly before sipping his drink.

“You’re going to be fine; you know.” Mathias says, but Turalyon can’t find it in himself to believe that.

 

Mathias stopped pushing- everyone stopped pushing, his divorce becoming old news. Perhaps it was the change of gossip, or an old knight and his broken life was no longer interesting. Or everyone had the decency to make sure he didn’t hear when they whispered. Whatever it was, Turalyon was grateful, if not lonely. Anduin still minded him, like a worried child- his own child wasn’t even as careful. It made him wonder how fragile his age really made him look.

Mathias was an unlikely friend in all this, whether it was genuine was still a question Turalyon toyed with, Rogues always work angles, he was just waiting for his use to expire. He was plotting something, Turalyon wouldn’t believe he wasn’t, still it was better than he hoped, breathing was easier, living was less of a pain. The light was treating him kindly, kinder than it ever had. A small blessing, in his darkened world, a small light.

Lor’themar Theron was more at home than Turalyon expected of a tentative ally, taking to the castle and her people as if he was familiar. Official channels delivered the news only today, but people were aware of it the moment Theron and his party landed. There was, understandable uproars, mostly noblemen crooning about change- but shockingly, the people were accepting of their king’s decision. It was a remarkable thing, the small folk standing with their leader when an enemy was in their city, the love for Anduin was clear, just as equal or maybe more then it had been for his father.

Most conversation was merely courteously, the decision all but closed at this point, what was left was allocating the resources to help. Silvermoon had seen its share of tragedy and was worse off for it, while a good number thought it was a ploy, Turalyon could see Theron wasn’t a man to accept let alone steal. The pride elves had was immeasurable and Turalyon had firsthand knowledge of it.

There was a unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach, an odd stirring that prickled the hair in the back of his neck. Anduin too, seemed to tighten, his eye darting in Turalyon’s direction nervously. It only took him a moment to understand, and by then it was already too late to excuse himself.

Alleria, walking with purpose and poise all but floored him. She looked hardly any different, but seeing her after so long brought a twinge to his chest as if it had been years. “Lady Windrunner.” Lor’themar says kindly, ah, yes. Turalyon should have known. “Lord Theron.” She says curtly, kindly, eyes never straying from his face, despite Turalyon wishing she would glance his way. Now he understood what was so pathetic. The conversation was just noise, gnats buzzing in his ears as he sat there and tried to seem not so utterly heart broken by her presence. Anduin was stiff, squirming as if it was his own marriage set ablaze. This didn’t concern him, none of it really did, but Turalyon stayed despite that, how terribly pitiful it would look if he left because he couldn’t take the sight of his ex-wife. Turalyon could make a thousand guesses as to what they were discussing, the state of her people, his. What now they would do since there was little dividing them now besides titles. The way that things had decayed miserably when a mass of his own Sin’dorei migrated to the alliance because he was too fearful of the void. 

If he was to be paying attention, they would find him lacking. Turalyon could not stomach the sound of her voice above a dull roar in his ears, thankful he could black it from his mind. Progress. He praised himself a little for keeping a straight face, Mathias was right. Turalyon chewed on the realization bitterly, he’d never hear the end of it now. He would be miserable after this, spent and tired for all the remaining day. The week.

“I look forward too it, Lord Theron.” Alleria says, rather loudly, bowing stiffly and unlike lady should, but she was never the kind to curtsy, “My king.” Her eye sweep along the row, and pause, finally at Turalyon. He met her without hesitation, he was never the kind. What once as clear, was now cloudy, murky. Her eyes left first and there was victory in that, at least he thought so because he let nothing betray how empty he really felt. Anduin tries to stop him, but Turalyon couldn’t be bothered to stay any longer, leaving without so much as a goodbye.

No one bothers him, not for a long time, Mathias sat on a mound of grass, his company more than enough as Turalyon slashed at the practice dummy. It was cathartic, but his woes weighed on his shoulders as he swung into the burlap bag of hay. Mathias was a gracious winner, minding his victory around Turalyon, later he was sure when there were no weapons but words, he would hear of it, but for now this was fine.

An arrow sings through the air and narrowly misses his own head as it sinks into the lumpy head of the dummy, though, Turalyon knew he was in little danger. “You should find living targets.” He muses, pulling the shaft with a yank and abandoning the arrow to its fate on the ground. “I have.” Her voice was more playful then he wanted to allow, unreasonable fury rising in the pit of his stomach as he turns on his heel to see her gaze just as full of mischief. At one time he would have loved to see it, but now it was ashen in his mouth and hallow in his belly.

“What is it you want?” Her face fell as if he was being unkind, but Turalyon counted himself gentlemanly for not all together leaving when he felt the churning of her presence. “You have not been yourself.” What would she know about that? There were many things- hurtful things he wanted to say, but he shrugs, swallowing it. “We grew- we changed, Turalyon.” She sounds desperate to say it, as if she thought he wouldn’t give the chance, he shouldn’t, not really. Alleria didn’t deserve one more moment of his time, but he fell into his old patterns and welcomed the unsettling feeling her being brought him. In a way it was comfortable, the discomfort, at least that had never changed.

“Our… our love could not follow.” Turalyon works his jaw to keep quiet, of all the hurtful things she could mange to say, still she was finding new ways to damage him. “Because you left it behind.” He bites, her ears fall with her face, good, he thinks, why should he be the only one to hurt?

“Turalyon-“

“You’ve said more than enough.” He silences her, tired of her excuses. “Be done with me and go.” This time she does hesitate, and it only angers him. Furious eyes glare into her. “Of course…” She mutters, staring at the space between them, cautious as she steps back further, “If that is what you wish.” He wishes for a wife but settles for what he has.

Chapter 183: Prince Renathal dabbles 1

Summary:

Prince Renathal/Asch Morningbell

So this is a pisspoor update after being missing for so long. I'm really sorry, after Shadowlands came out and the holidays I got caught up in all the personal whirlwind that was Christmas and Warcraft. I will do better, but for now enjoy Prince Renathal! I really love him.

Chapter Text

 

Pride was a sin, but it was the only thing keeping her head high as she peered off into the devastation wrought into the maw, standing defiantly still as the darkened anima poured into the clouds, frothing red and swirling maelstrom. Pride kept her standing there, pride kept here eyes dry despite the wailing ache in her chest, her King- the admiral they were both still there. Suffering likely worse now that the Jailer victorious in this round of battle. Her legs shook, but she refused to fall. General Draven’s claw comes to rest delicately over her shoulder, despite it size and threat there was no danger. She shakes then, only a little, when it tugs her away from the edge, her feet almost daring her to leap from the ruined bridge. They would catch her, those winged stone beasts, still she wretches away, making for it, breath catching in her chest as her toes touch air.

“Maw walker.” The Prince utters, his breath ragged and throat a ruin. Asch curls her lip in distain, flicking her gaze back at him hatefully, but she can’t muster the emotion. Renathal clutches his wounds, blood smattering his side, slobbering over the side of his arm that folds into his sunken chest. Asch hides no fury when she shoves past them all, stalking through the stone grounds, her heart echoing into her long pinched-back ears.

Nothing in this realm is without anima in it and the people need it more than ever, it was in the food, the drinks- the wine. She takes none of it and settles for hiding in a crook of dark stone, leaning against a spike protruding from the arch. Asch feels like the many lifeless statues. Watching as people pass by. Her presence doesn’t go unnoticed, she a nuisance to the peace, a menace to their lives and labors.

She left Ice Crown with two skins of Dalaran red and wastes all of it in her stewing, glaring at the unfortunate ambling people. They didn’t deserve it, and she was quite a pitiful sight. The great Maw Walker. As if it mattered now.

“You look like a drowned crow.” General Draven calls up to her, Asch frowns petulantly, glaring away from him and drinking the last of her second skin, tossing it onto the ground before his feet as she slumps into the hard stone. “We have business. Get down.” The General huffs, glaring at her in equal measure, surely not used to being a fetching boy. His mood as black as her own, she was drunk enough to entertain defying him, but also drunk enough that she likely couldn’t get away with it, lest she want to be carried like a sack into the sanctum. What a sight that should make. Allies or not, all of them looked at her as if she was badly dressed rabble.

Without much thought she slides from her perch, stumbling down with an indignant grunt befitting her state as she knees throb in protest to her harsh, foolish landing. Draven doesn’t look impressed with the display, crossing his arms, but he says nothing as he turns his tail nearly hitting her as he walks on. Asch drunkenly stumbles after him, holding her head as her knees wobble. Revendreth was beautiful, with its stone details and dark colors- but all of it was lost on Asch as Draven leads her back into the sanctum. She clutches the wall as they descend, barely holding contempt for those that pass her, their sneers almost enough to make her want to stop and bite at them. Draven doesn’t seem penitence enough and she is far to drunk. 

They come to the inner sanctum, surrounded by more people and her eyes are too blurry to see any of them clearly, what stands out is Prince, at least, in all his green and glory. Renathal seems much better than when Asch previously saw him, his clothes new and face clean. Asch can just see his face through the haze, and he looks at her in worry and she hates it a little. “Maw walker,” He says, too formally and tailor-fashioned to the environment than who he really was, more the Prince than Renathal. Asch stands straighter, possibly swaying but it was altogether hard to tell. “Prince.” She mutters, keeping what little dignity she had left of herself and saying less than required. Renathal frowns at her a little, his brow creased. “There is much to be done.” He reminds her, as if displeased. Asch burrows further into her failure and snaps, “And I’ll see it done!”

“I have faith you will.” He says, sounding wary, apologetic even. “In a way, we’ve gained victory.” Renathal says, steeples his fingers in his arm, seemingly unbothered, “He is now sequestered to his Castle.” Asch’s eye twitches suddenly filling her vision with rage, watching him smile slightly as if he deserved it, as if she did.

“There will be victory when I have his head!” She screams, her voice ripping through the sanctum and silencing the halls, “You cling to your hope even as your people feed his master and you call this victory?!” Asch growls, glaring at those around her, but unable to truly see their faces. “I will see his blood painting my blade- you are welcome to keep your delusions of hope, baseborn prince of nothing!”

Nothing is said- nothing she can hear for that matter as she stomps away- or stumbles. None cross her path, hardly a ghost up the stairs and much less out in the waning orange sun. Asch grips any wall she comes too, dizzily unseeing and wobbly at the knees before they finally give in and she forced to slide into the cold group, propped up and shivering at the chill. Asch tilts and falls, her shoulder digging into the ground before she rolls onto her back, miserable and furious, uncaring as the sky grows dim at the edge of her vision before she can no longer see anything, and she slips into a still sleep.

Head pounding Asch hisses awake. The lively sounds around her sour in her sensitive ears. She blinks, staring up at the black detailed ceiling. Harsh lights hurting her eyes into cringing them closed again. “Maw walker.” A melodic voice beckons her curiously, Asch forces her eyes open to look up at the Pathscribe, his face motionless and expressionless as all the eternal watcher, though his voice was tired and confused. “What-“ She mutters, rubbing her sore head as she sits up, staring at all those who couldn’t be bothered to look her way as they direct their flights. “You were dropped off here some time ago.” Roh-Avonavi comments, waving his hands to send others on their way, hardly paying attention to either her or them.

Asch heaves up as he finishes with her, paying little mind now with his messages delivered. Bolvar would want her words of the event, the whole of the population looking over the edge of Oribos and seeing the sickness pouring into the Maw. None seemed to question her long absence, anxious as they were, they tolerate her fumbling of the tale, unseeing her thinly veiled hatred for the events. “Prince Renathal may have larger successes with you at his side, Asch.” Bolvar muses, heaving his great war hammer over his shoulder, readying to leave, “You’ll return to him and manage the situation from there.”

The sudden, violent, “No!” Escaped Asch before she made it possible to stop, the confusion she was met with was not silent, “Do you take issue with this?” Bolvar asks, she had no right reason to decline, not one she could say to her allies, lest she wanted them to learn how grievously insulting she was to the rebel prince and his meager, but useful army.

Begrudgingly, rather awkwardly she shakes her head, making her pinch in pain “No…” she mutters, watching the frown of confusion ebb away cautiously, eyeing her in suspicion “Find your way to Sinfall soon then, much needs to be done if we are to face Sire Denathrius.”

There was only so much she could do to drag her feet. Oribos was a large place filling out with all kinds of souls and people, she wanted to hide within them, but it only served to unnerve her. Asch avoided Bolvar, but she sensed he could see her anyway. With some final preparations she managed to squeeze in, Asch wasted a little more time before chartering a flight to Revendreth. Asch wasn’t stupid enough to return directly to Sinfall, instead choosing a more out of the way flight, Bolvar couldn’t tell from here she was avoiding the prince, at some point she would return, just not yet.

It was all so pathetic really, the guilt she felt was eating her, she hadn’t meant to be so harsh, well. At least at the time she did, but now the churning feeling of regret washed over her like a tide. She meant it, but he didn’t need to hear it. She wasn’t sure what was worse. In any case, Asch approaches the gates, head high as her faithful Warden of the Grove. The echo if his hooves against the stone made her want to cringe, but that was unbefitting a Highlord, so she clenched the reins and ignore the looks she was getting from everyone that she passed.

Revendrath was of a special kind, despite being a place of repentance, the hierarchy so clearly intrenched was suffocating as Silvermoon’s own. Rumours spread just as fast, people were snide it was all so hypocritical. They look on at her as if she was beneath them, as if the sins of arrogance didn’t apply. They were as corrupted as their Sire, none humbled until she came upon the prince, his face unreadable where a sneer should lie. Renathal merely looks at her with curiosity, the only thing to unmask on his face was the hesitation as he did so. She wonders if he is wounded, if her words stuck him.

“I had thought you would not return.” He says simply, giving nothing away with his tone. Asch almost hated it and felt herself bristle, he should be angry with her, he should be anything but indifferent toward her. “Bolvar thought it best I be here.” She says, looking over his regal head because she feels far to ashamed to look more closely at his face. “So, I have.” It was too public to apologize, too awkward- too emotional for the indifference she would face giving it. “Delightful,” He says, with none of his usual pomp- he was hurt. Asch allowed herself to feel miserable a moment, “Please find your way to the Accuser, she will have things for you.” Renathal usually gave her things to do. Asch swallows, nodding as she spins on her heel, it appears the grave she dug herself was deep.

Utterly messy, terrible and scarred.

 

 

Chapter 184: Anduin Dabbles 2

Summary:

Anduin Wrynn/Asch Wrynn

Ah... haha, sorry for the wait, I was working on a Turalyon chapter when Kingsmorne came out and I got a tragic plot-bunny. T.T My baby.
If you haven't seen the video its on World of Warcraft's Youtube channel, so;

WARNING: SPOILERS for upcoming content. (All of it was revealed at Blizzconline but I understand some people avoid that stuff.)

This is pretty long and I tried to make it cannon compliant, but to be honest with you, I'm going to wildly ignore whatever they do if it's fucked up like I think it's going to be, but hey, my cannon now, losers. They didn't deserve Anduin anyway.

Alright well, enjoy, I hope you can forgive my absence, depression, you know? (I'll be better, I hope?)

Chapter Text

 

Anduin breathes a pained sigh, his chest empty and careful to show the emotion that churns in his waning belly, his stomach steal and in seconds quivering in hidden fear. His hands clench, shoulders pinched in pain as the chains tug, pulling as if they were willing his bones from his sockets, rending at the muscles, sore, abused and beaten.

His breath labors in his lungs, the echoes of an entrance rings loud and through the stone walls, rattling the loose chains with the gust of tainted, dinged wind. Anduin utterly exhausted, hardens his features, not daring to show the weakness that he’s felt for weeks. The chains supporting his weight jerk free, Anduin scrambles, his palms biting into the hard ground as he stops short of falling into the dirt. He whips his head up, a snarl curling on his lip, he rears at the magic boundaries, pride a lion’s size in his heart as Sylvanas watches him disdainfully, if not smugly.

“Turn your claws, king.”  She coos, her hissing voice surrounding the area with frothing hatred. “What more must I suffer from you?” He bites, all tattered remains of fight and foulness. Sylvanas smirks, as if merely amused, “Such rage, little cub.” She spits, mocking his titles with a flick of her mantle, it passes through his barrier, reminding him of his entrapment. She has his weapon in her grasp, swinging it carelessly like a simple cane. Shalamayne, its body is bastardized, covered in runes that pulse in hunger, beating like hearts for the blood of innocence. Anduin can taste its need, frothing tacky behind his lips, clinging to his teeth, infesting his chest with its want for death.

His father’s sword. He let this happen to his father’s sword.

“What, Banshee, what do you want.” There’s a sudden hurt in her face, a shock, as if she did not expect him to reduce her. Sylvanas’ lip curls over hr sharp teeth, the glinting shine of them glow with the sick blue of the blade, “Temper, child, your father’s blade isn’t the only thing we possess.” Rage rankles, rearing untamed in his chest, his hands wrench into the magic, the pain stalking up his arms in shivering waves, but Anduin doesn’t relent, his fury fueling the numbness. Sylvanas is elated, watching his hands as they work against the magic, the strength in his arms visible with each unrelenting push of anger. Even beneath the layers of plate and leather she can see the waning shake in his muscles, the effort he puts into just show his devotion, his misery.

His love.

She digs the sword into his jaw, jerking his chin up with the slide, his face is entirely to young. The lines of worry etched in between his soft, dirtied brows; the scruffy, stained beard made of more soft fluff than course hair, covering his cheeks and filthy with sweat. Dishevelled, fearless.

Enough.” He grinds, a kingly command, one he has no place, no right to give. Sylvanas angles the blade, slicing into his skin, watching the blood roll down the steel of the weapon, quirking a smile as the runes liven. “Is it?” She toys, “Will it be?” Sylvanas rips herself away, watching him with darkened eyes, “The little lion loves his wife.” Anduin jerks, finally yielding to the pain in his arms, yanking away in rage. His deep, daunting blue eyes glare dangerously, its sickeningly like his father. “Your quarrel is with me.” He bites, as if he may make demands of her. “And your heart is with her.” His nose scrunches as his lips pull back, but his eyes cannot muster anything else but fear. “Bend to your fate, boy.” Sylvanas demands in turn, aiming her cutting gaze into him, waiting for his fiery defiance, and is not disappointed as his legs stiffen stubbornly beneath him. Such putrid youth. “What shall I take from your heart?” Her voice is light, taunting with her steps, the heel of her boots clicking into the dusty stone. “The sight from her eyes?” She tries, swinging his father’s blade, “The hands you hold?”

Something brightens in her face, an idea springing visibly across her features, “The womb from her belly so your insipid line dies here?” Sparks sizzle from the tips of his fingers, but dies in the same breath, no light can live here long. “She has no part of this.” Sweat makes his hair lank and stick to his face, the sorrow cracking beyond his façade of fury. He is scared for her. Sylvanas burns at the sight, snapping her eyes and jerking her hand in gesture to the animated sets of dark armor, Anduin’s eyes finally relent, his face falling into hopelessness, the breath in his chest unmoving as the chains click and jingle.

Anduin jerks softly, watching with unblinking eyes, “Asch.” He whispers with all the air in his lungs, Sylvanas sneers at the heart in it. The wretched feeling she finds rising in her throat, giving it no life as she coldly stares at the limp, meek figure strung along the ground with little recognition of the two lifeless keepers. Wisps of smoke carry in the air around their helmets, the formless tendrils clinging close to the suit of empty armor, making shape inside the space. They dump the lions queen before his feet, and then he does fall to his knees.

“What have you done, Sylvanas.” Her name is grating to her own ears, she wills her rage into a single action. Aiming Shalamayne toward the crumpled, still queen, watching the pathetic churn in his eyes, the well of tears that fills the corner of his vision, she twists inside at the helplessness. “Wake her.” The command is met with a swift and loud kick in her ribs, Anduin jerks as if he had taken the blow. A soft wet sound wabbles from her, weak battered arms struggle to lift herself, the tatters of her dress slumping off her delicate beaten shoulders. She lifts her face, her hair messy and clinging to her pale, fine cheeks, eyes blinking blackness from their depths.

My lion.” Her voice is velvet soft, sorrowful, and yet relieved to see him. Anduin dares the pain to touch the barrier, lip quivering at the mere sight of her, “My love.”  

The Lion and his Love.

Asch tries to move toward him, drag herself as close as she may to his prison, only to be stilled by the pike at her throat. Sylvanas entertains this amusement, allowing it with a simple careless cast of her hand, the deafening drag of metal scraps the ground as the maw stalker lifts rigidly, awaiting its next command dutifully. A kindness, she decides, moving the two steps it takes, clawing at Asch’s arm and lurching her forward into the cell. Watching the stumbling disbelief as Anduin catches her, cradles her into his chest between his arms as if intending to shield all sight of her. He shakes violently, desperate to hold her, burying himself in her presence. Asch clutches his jaw in her hands, consumed in his embrace. They inhale the scent of one another, breathing life between them, uncaring of the filth stuck to their face, the grease in their hair.

Tears spill from Anduin’s eyes freely, falling into her hair as he buries his nose into her scalp. Asch sobs her terror in his neck, quivering feebly. “How utterly pitiful.” Sylvanas jeers, but notices with a twinge of annoyance that she is merely ignored. Anduin brushes the pad of his gauntlet against the raw, chapped skin of Asch’s lip. Sylvanas snarls, aiming the point of Shalamayne an inch from his nose. The lions queen buries herself in his chest, as if he could protect her from them.

The flick of his eyes is sharp as the weapon before him, measuring it equally, as if he could. Sylvanas laments her mistake, Anduin rises, no longer content on his knees before her, bringing his mousy wife in his arms, careful to tenderly kiss her filthy forehead before nudging her behind him. The audacity, the hubris. “Do what you will with me, Banshee. Not with her.” He bargains, accepting of his punishment, “We are done discussing terms.” It was unreasonable, but she had none left to spare this king and his love. “My convincing is over. I will have what I want and dispose of your precious wife.”

They clutch at each other like the children they are, the determination in his face a fierce kind. “You will have what you want, but you will not have her. You will see her safe.” Anduin is unrelenting, and Sylvanas has lost her final shred of patience she has for this folly. The shield separates as the sword pierces the veil of magic around them, her jab is swift and merciless. Anduin grunts, makes an attempt to flee, but there is nothing that running can do for him now. The encompassing magic springs from the blade, and in his last act of free will, Anduin shoves Asch from his vicinity, his mind could not flee this prison. “I will have everything.

Its shockingly beautiful, she might have been enamored by the sight of such a thing, if it did not stir the sickly reminders of Arthas. His eyes lose their handsome blue, boyish fright vanishing into a dull, almost tired look of listlessness. His skin garnered a grayish tint, the healthy, vibrant shade of sand kissed tan fading with his summer sun hair, now lank and white, exposing just how filthy he had become here.

“Anduin!” Asch positively wails, stumbling back to her feet, one hand desperately clutching his own and the other reaching for his face. Sylvanas watches with slanted eyes, Anduin twitches where he is touched, his jaw working against the fingers grasping him. His eyes, frothing with lichfire dart, staring at his wife with concealed emotion- or perhaps none at all. Something stirs, recognition and it infuriates Sylvanas. “Kill her.” She demands and endures the mournful sob that bubbles out of Asch’s chest. Anduin does not move, his chilling gaze slowly reaching her own, it challenges her, disturbs her.

“Kill her!” Sylvanas spits, and his hands move.

Asch flickers, shivering, accepting it without an ounce of resistance as his hands coil around her delicate neck. Her own grasp at his forearms weakly, eyes wide and imploring as they franticly search his own, spilling tears down her cheeks. Asch is so truly little in his grasp, Anduin all the larger now that he no longer obscures his stature behind diplomacy and priestliness. The board banks of his shoulders finally fill out his pauldrons, no longer pretending a king, the rod of his back still and startling. No longer a little cub.

Yet still a pawn.

“I-I l-love y-you, M-My L-Lion.” Asch sputters out with her waning breath, eyes fading sadly at the sight of him, the last sight of him she will have. It made Sylvanas giddy with triumph, to see such love vanish. Her protests are over, but her body still fights the tightening of his hands, defiantly gasping for breath that will not fill her chest. And yet still, there is a flicker. Hesitation finds its way to his face, and his hands visibly loosen, climb to her cheeks instead. Curious and cautious eyes react to her gulps for breath, watching. Sylvanas felt a well of panic, of anger that tightens her grasp on his sword. Dormant foul affection, flashes over his features, guiding his thumbs to rub tender, tiny circles against her cheeks.

No.” Anduin’s voice is warbled, off and echoing, “What?!” Sylvanas shrieks, his face jerks to the side, glaring at her thickly, the sudden, horrible churning in her belly bursts from her lips in a quiet, fearful gasp. Her feet scrape against the stone, unsettled enough by the reminder in his face. Lost so suddenly in her memories, in the man. The pain in her chest enkindles stingingly, wretchedly fresh, ablaze in her belly with all the fear and helplessness she found in the fields of flowers, of friends. She is empty.

She is violent.

Sylvanas swings, without skill, without aim, hacking forward in a rage fueled arc without care for what she hits, so long as it is something. Shalamayne rips into metal, the twinge of the noise beating off the walls. The blade sings for flesh, runes livening, the scent of blood sending it into a melodic simmering furor. It shakes in the palm of Anduin’s hand, unsteadily against her force, but stuck there in the meat of his firm flesh, the brown of his glove split and fanned around the slice. His blood soaks the soft leather, draining down his hand and spattering the ground.

Anduin yanks, curling his hand around the rest of the point, jerking it from her grasp and onto the puddle before them. It clangs to the ground, screaming in furious anguish. “No.” He says darkly, once more, a threat, a promise, and a warning.

You will not disobey me.” Sylvanas hisses, hackles rising, at this he simply nods, as if he had never, “You will not hurt her.”

 

The terms are amenable. 

 

There is a strange amusement in the Jailers face when she enters with Anduin and his wife in tow, “The pet has a pet.” He comments dryly, eying and assessing her failure in a way it worms under her skin. “She will have her use.” Sylvanas mutters, peering at the still, staggeringly tall form of Anduin beside her, he’s taller than her, she now realises, and irritable beside her. Tight in the face despite the deadness of his eyes. Asch, his proud and pretty little queen shares his heat, less than a hairs breath from his body, and he tolerates it, welcomes it. Whose pet? Sylvanas eyes it in wonder, in worry, “Use?” He hums, “He is compliant.”

The Jailer casts unimpressed eyes through them, “He is enslaved.” You have failed. Sylvanas works her teeth into her cheek, sighing without a sound, he continues, “Amusing.” He turns in a lofty way, eying Asch, Anduin eying him unflinchingly. “He shall keep his little queen, so long as he remains compliant.” Asch quivers, wrapping her hands around Anduin’s upper arm, he stands as still as stone, but softens in her grasp a small sum. “See it cared for.” His dismissal is swift and for it she is thankful.

Sylvanas is no wetnurse, but as she lingers, having been commanded to do little else, she feels as one. Watching with distain and distance as Asch makes use of the murky bowl of water to clean Anduin’s face. Swiping the filth from his cheeks with the ragged and frayed cloth. She hums a beautiful tune that has him engrossed, silent, and dormant, simply watching her as she works over his jaw. She uses none of the water for herself, troubled and quiet. Fingers stall in front of his nose, and Sylvanas has the urge to speak, “He lives.” And wonders where such a thing came from, why she felt the desire to do it in the first place.

A faint, meek, struggling hum filters through the air, accompanied by the sloshing of the water. The droplets smattering in the bowl as she wrings out the cloth and runs it over his neck. Sylvanas can’t help but spy the blacks prints that bloom across her throat, the perfect shapes of his hands and fingers denting her beautiful pale skin. Anduin stills her wrists in his hands, pushing them into her chest in a silent command that Asch understands, that she smiles sadly at.

Asch begins to scrub her face clean with less care than she had for him, wiping the filth from her face until her skin is raised and red from the scratch of the frayed linen. She stands between his open legs, and he is comfortable with her there, a limp fist twisted in the tatters of her dress. Anduin is not himself, this Sylvanas knew, sternly reminding herself as she watches them, and yet. Those hazy blue churning eyes honor Asch with their familiar gaze.

The cloth is black when she is finished, pushed off to the side in a lump. Asch cups her hands in the water and carrying a small amount to his hair, making do with the dingy water and pouring it into his hair. The change troubles her, makes her hesitate, but she slides her fingers softly through the bland locks of his once warm yellow hair. It’s not nearly the same color as her own, a starker white than his mucky gray, pristine and pale as Winterspring snow. Its knotted and unkept, bits of dried blood stick it together in lumps, it’s heavy on her neck, Sylvanas can see that by how she fidgets and adjusts, the ratted ends reach her knees. Sylvanas once saw a painting of it piled onto the crown of her head, periwinkle roses woven into the recesses of her hair, a silver circlet precariously perched over top of it all.

Anduin silently tugs Asch closer, his head resting on her breast, eyes drooping, dull of the burning flame, muted under his slacking lids. Asch inhales sharply through the slats of her teeth. He’s sad. Sylvanas thinks but dismisses the traitorous thought as soon as it comes to her, he isn’t capable. But he is, crestfallen in her hands and sad. His hands clutch at her dress, dragging it taught to her skin, there is struggle in his face, the battle in his eyes to supress the powers beneath his flesh, surging in his veins.

Sylvanas suddenly stands, alarming them both, Asch cowers into him, shielding him within her grasp. Sylvanas swallows what she feels, stiffly “I will return, he will serve his purpose in the morning.” And its all she can give them, its all she knows she’s allowed to see. Sylvanas leaves and demands the guards follow her when she hears the gasp of shocked, deep breathes.

Its all she can afford to hear.

 

                Anduin gulps for air, suddenly prickled from the cold, a mist dissipates from his eyes. His hand aches, throbbing fresh life in the dingy cloth it clutches. “Anduin…?” The voice is small, far away in his ears, scared. Anduin blinks, witnessing the terror in Asch’s face, the guarded hope she has that’s a thread away from splitting. “Asch.” He hears himself, recoiling at the echo that fades with her name. Asch cradles his jaw, lip quivering, relief in her eyes along with her tears. Something clouds his sight, changing her in his eyes, she’s breathless, weak in his hands as they curl around her throat, tightening-  Anduin jumps back, stumbles and falls back onto the stone slab. “I-I- your-“ Asch brushes hair from his face, shushing him softly, “It’s alright.” Her voice is raspy, fragile. He did that. He hurt her. Her neck was a testament, his own hands shake, rip away from her, he has no right to touch her.

He feels strange, heavy in the soul. His fingers feel weak and sticky, raising it to his sight, he’s twisted inside staring at the sickly clots of dried blood. He tries to mend it, but feels the light feebly protest, it takes more concentration than it ever had to seal the wound, and there is a scar raised and pink, still sore in his palm. His heart pounds in his ears, panic curdles morose in his belly, churning his guts. It had been a long since he struggled like this. Anduin recalls Velen’s proud eyes, his face sharing in the triumph of his skills. But it turns to grime and dust in his mouth, the weight of exhaustion coddles his mind after the effort. The toll of events now coming to his understanding, “What has she done to me…” Is all that manages to leave his fallen mouth, he wanted no answer, Asch strokes her hands through his hair, pulling it free of his forehead. The comfort is undeserved, “I love you Anduin.” Asch says in the small space between his legs, a breath louder than air. It hurts him inside, tears prickle in his eyes as he lulls his head back, “What have I done to you.”

Asch pulls his hand from his sight, wrapping it between her own, cradling it like a treasure to her chest, allowing him to feel the warm, steady beat of her heart. It’s grounding, centering him in a way nothing else ever could. His fingers twitch and it hurts to clasp his fingers over her own. His father’ sword punctures his chest in a way it could never, the gems gleaming, calling to him like all dark magics. His vison, his will, fades.

Anduin lifts himself, looking over at the bowl of water, his boots are loud on the stone, eerie as he bends to the black water, and a stranger with his face peers back. It’s dark enough to see his ashen skin, his lank and lifeless hair- the only thing he recognizes is his mother’s eyes and his father’s jaw. And than still he does not see himself in any of it. “What have I become?”

Dread shivers up his bones, but he is not alone with it, “You are my lion.” Asch whispers, “I will be her monster.” He shoves the clay bowl and it shatters against the stone, sending water across the floor. Rage licks at his chest, rumbles in the bowels of his belly, pleased. Anduin shakes himself of it, swallowing the urge that now threatens to consume him. Asch clutches him, breaks him from his reprieve. Anduin holds his eyes shut, feeling the lids burden him with tiredness, he reluctantly flutters them open, met with a sight that has steals his breath. Asch looks at him, searchingly, doe-eyed and loving. He is as unfit to have it.

They were together, visiting his fathers resting place, there were lilies in her hair and on his grave, it was chilly, and he gave her his cloak and the fur tickled her cheeks when she smiled at him. How long have they been trapped here? He tries to protect her, pushing her out of the way as the chains tied around his limbs, but they wanted. Genn was on the ground, yelling after him, the cloak clutched in his hands and a  face of failure.

They had both failed.

Anduin yanks his mantle, hearing it rip from the seams at his shoulders, draping it over her own. Securing it gently, at a lose once more. A king who couldn’t protect his own wife. Anduin refused to wear a crown, now he understands he was unprepared to have it. No. Father would not listen to this. But what could he do? He was a puppet. Their instrument, a friendly face. “Anduin.” He must save her. Soft lips meet his cheek, and he flicks his eyes to the present, the shining eyes watching him, worried for him. Always worried for him. “Asch.” His voice is hateful, echoing with something unsavory, she catches his lips now, gentle, the warmth of it seeps in his chilled marrow, vaguely making him aware of his slumping shoulders. He must help her escape, but as soon as the thought comes, he dismisses it, how long will I remain unshackled? How long until they corral him into submission? No. It chews his insides, but they would have no hope now to escape, Anduin does not know these halls, not what lurks in the shadows.

Not even if an exit exists.

Their first escapes he knows now was a ploy to obtain him, to demonstrate how truly powerless they all were.

Anduin does the only thing he can, sinking into the sweet kiss that gives him something more to feel than failure. They had been together for what felt like an age since children and freshly married not even a year ago. “I love you,” he whispers against her mouth, lifting her in his arms. Asch melts, allowing no space between them as he turns, untucking his tattered mantle to spread it out over the slab of stone. His knees dig into the sharp side, one hand holding her flush against him as the other fumbles with the innards of his armor, awkward, blind fingers yanking at whatever they could grab. Asch nips at his mouth, gasping hot breathes against his face, her eager tongue poking inside when he lets it, lets her do as she pleases as he tugs at his stubborn armor. She searches him tentatively, hesitant with her fingers in the nape of his neck, it hurts. And he knows.

It’s still me, He nearly says, but it dies in his throat, I’m still the man you married. Still the boy that carried you through the lily ponds and made you laugh under the waterfalls in Krasarang. Still the child you shared flowers with in the garden of my fathers kingdom.

Was he? Or was his simply desperate to be?

The first pauldron drops with a curt, defining thunk, the weight off setting his other shoulder. Anduin swallows her sounds, enduring the writhing as he toys with the other clasp, letting it slip of his shoulder and freeing him. Asch is the air he breathes, each gasp shared between their lungs livening the life he felt lost in. He is nothing more then her husband, and she is nothing more than his wife. And nothing else matters as he lays her on the wool lined, blue-dyed cloak. Anduin fiddles with his gauntlets, twinging at the pain in his hand before shaking it out, annoyed at himself. The heavy plate was so at home on his body that the lightness he felt was odd, unpleasant as he removed it. Anduin leans away, pulling the linen underclothes over his head, tousling his messy hair with it. Shifting his leg plates in the heap before them. He is careless with himself, but deft with Asch, gentle with her ruined dress where he was coarse his own. They could lay him bear, he could suffer that humiliation, but not her.

Her skin is soft, cold, in his rugged hands, her thighs trembling as he travels the once soft silk up her taut belly. Anduin swallows, peering up with no amount of courage, but she looks and sees him. Anduin feels his heart painfully in his chest, in his fingers as he cradles her thighs in his hands, urging them up over his shoulders as he descends, the warmth returning to his cheeks. His tongue guides his actions, feeling her with his mouth, tasting her and groaning. Her legs tighten around his head, shaking gooseflesh erupts across her soft legs. Anduin laps at her cunt, messily opening her to his mouth, swirling the point of his tongue into her pink bud. Asch squirms, elated, breathlessly calling his name. Her cunt flexes around his wriggling tongue, he releases her leg, revelling how it digs into his shoulder blade as he guides his fingers into her cunt. Teasing her opening with little tentative prods, watching  her shutter a gasp from her parted pink lips. Asch arches into his hand, taking his fingers in one swift thrust, Anduin growls at the tight, hot feeling of her fluttering around his fingers, welcoming each twisting press until she’s wriggling, whimpering in his hands. His lips close over her bud, teasing it as she clenches around him, her sounds making it harder to restrain himself from ravaging her, from licking praise into her skin.

A-Anduin.” Asch cries, shaking, heel digging into the flesh of his back. Anduin pants against her cunt, watching her with hooded eyes, his cock painfully hard between his legs. He sucks the mess from his fingers, sliding up her skin, feeling all the soft skin against his hard, toned and beaten flesh. Asch consumes his mouth, he meets her in kind, clashing in a throw of tongues and teeth, rumbling as Asch spreads her thighs. The sensitive head of his cock teases her inner thigh, swollen and dark as he struggles to tease her tongue. Anduin releases her, breathing ruggedly as their foreheads tenderly touch, their eyes watching each other lidded and lustful. “You’re everything to me.” Anduin whispers, lifting her leg in one hand, rolling his cock between her lips. Asch cups his jaw in her hands, inhaling shaky breathes, “I love you, my lion.” She mutters, nudging him with her nose, curling upward. Anduin backs, following her as she gently pushes his breast. He eases her in his lap, burning eyes staring as she stripes the dress and dumps it beside them. Her chest is dusted with the same pink as her cheeks, and he dares to lave at it, tasting the sweat on her skin and relishing the soft “Hah-“ that escapes her.

Between them her soft, tender hand reaches for his cock, palming it in her hand and rolling her wrist, a soft, teasing rhythm that has him breathing harshly as he mouths his adoration in her skin. Anduin nips at the sudden tug, hips jolting in her hand, “My lion, my love,” she smears into his skin, trailing kisses of her own across his shoulder, mouthing at an old, thin scar at the junction of his neck, nibbling at the raised and pale skin. “My king.” His cock twitches in her grasp, weeping over her fingers. Anduin snarls, clamping his teeth down to make a faint mark, dropping her back onto the cloak, a caged, feral need in his chest now. Asch gleams with excitement, nails digging into his back as he palms his own cock, poking her opening before kissing her fervidly, jutting his hips to push his cock inside.

Anduin devours her moans, hearts hammering together, chests flushed. Her nipples pebble against his skin, rolling with each deep thrust of his hips, his powerful back and legs the force behind it. He’s unhinged- she’s unhinged. Beautiful as a crashing tide, pulling him into her waves, curling her soft supple legs around his hips, wrapping her fingers in the nape of his neck, tugging at the strands the way he loves.

Mine.” Anduin bites.

“Mine-“ Asch chokes.

Anduin’s jaw works, guttural grunts escaping his mouth, flooding into her own, tasting her sweet, pretty sounds. His cock throbs inside of her tight cunt, the sounds of their wet thighs burning in her ears, Anduin lovingly, longingly watches her, overcome with him. The fluttering heart between her legs squeezes him mercilessly, the familiar feeling wrapping around him in a warm, straggling embrace. “Anduin,” Asch mewls, thrashing under him, chasing his hips. Anduin grinds into her, thundering grunts filling her red ears. He arches, stilling “Asch,” Anduin purrs, spending deep within her. They pant, grasping at each other’s newly sweat slickened skin. Growing quiet, doubt and loathing grows with it in Anduin, “You will protect us.” Asch knows, Anduin can’t help the breathless smile that finds its way to his grim face, his head resting heavily against hers, she knows him like no other. Her warm, devoted golden eyes capture and keep his own, offering everything to his battered soul, Anduin presses a long kiss to her chest, committing his fears to her loyal embrace. Asch draws his face back, nuzzling his handsome nose in a silent comfort.

He misses their bed, curling in the cool sheets and staring at her bathed in the stained glass moonlight, tracing the flecks of baby blues and soft yellows that changed every night, committing to memory how delicate her constitution was nestled against his own war hardened exterior. He misses the days she catches him tired, head pounding with stress, rescuing him from capitol worries with lovingly ballads and sweet hymns. He misses the way she carries his hands in her own, clutching his fingers as she speaks adamant and excited. Asch is his home, his heart, his utter and complete everything.

And he will miss her.

Chapter 185: Turalyon Dabbles 3

Summary:

Turalyon/Asch Dawnrose

So I know I keep saying I would be better but I'm just going to say I'm sorry, I'm struggling to focus on one thing most times and its been tough to get anything out.
I've been messing with other stories not in the Warcraft Fandom and haven't posted anything yet because I wanted more than just a few chapters. So, I might post those so you can see what's been taking me away.
Either way, I won't promise anything more than I haven't given up and I thank you for the strong support. We hit over 80,000 views! I never imagined I would ever get that high. so I wanted to say thank you to everyone who reads, not all of it is good, not all of it makes sense, but it means the world.

Chapter Text

The day has expired long ago, but the night was still young, twinkling with stars that dot the blanket of black sky. The decent people have long past gone to sleep, leaving the youth to frantically take the night in search of fun.

The flash of beauty as pale as the walls of the keep catches his eye from straying, not letting it long on the swathes of cloth adjourned the walls. A wisp of soft hair tickles his arm, the feather hidden in her hair brushing the fine hair upon his arm. Turalyon struggles a moment, bells tittering until he settles, clutching his fists as he rests. The ribbons of silk were hardly a bondage, but one he took seriously, For the pearl ribbons that once graced her milk thighs, now tie him at the wrists down to the arms of the chair.

Her ears perk just as a hunting hounds would, making his heart aflutter as her soft hand touches his bare chest, she feels the patter under her palm. Her dress, no matter the scant of cloth, was still more then he, who sat with a simple loincloth. She is bold, slipping her hand toward his belly, scraping her nails along his thigh, the barest hint of her fingers hiding under the cloth. Her hand instead moves toward her own, the silken cloth bunches in her hand, lifting and exposing her thighs. His breath is in short supply, his lungs unable to cope with the utter tease. His cock twitches from its confines, desperate and pink against his belly. Her thighs shift, the silks tickle him as she lifts over his lap. Turalyon can feel her heat, “Asch…” He mutters softly, the bells jingle instantly as he tries to reach for her, the soft wet quivering feeling of her cunt. Turalyon swallows thickly holding a breath as Asch sinks down upon his lap, a tremulous feat as she shakes with anticipation.

Turalyon gulps air into his unused lungs, as if it was new and he had never done so before, it was black and sweltering, his hips rut into the warm mattress below, shuttering as his mind leaves him, his cock twitching as it splatters his finish onto the sheets, his chest caves as his hips jut pathetically still in awe of his dream.

Turalyon groans, wiping his sweaty face into his damp pillow, bemoaning not only his entrance into the waking world, but what his mind decided to conjure in his sleep. Try as he had to avoid her, all sorts of signs brought him back to the conclusion that he should have never bothered to ignore it, whether it was the subtle scent of that strange flowery perfume mixed with weapon oil, or the soft little bells in her hair that sounded just like those wine chimes in front of the embassy.

Turalyon could not stop thinking about Asch.

Turalyon hung on every word he could remember Mathias telling him about her, she lived in Old Town with her younger brother Vytis, she couldn’t afford it even with two jobs. Turalyon frowns in his pillow, glaring sharply at the soft light filtering through the dark curtains. Mathias would be insufferable after this, he knew it.

Asch was careful in all things she did always, but recently she was being clumsy. What started as a minor flutter morphed into more emotions than she shouldn’t have for a man she’s met twice and a lord of all things. Vytis suspected something, but he was more concerned with how often she dropped things than reason for it. It had been plates, glasses- now she was dropping pikes and hilts. Master Te’lyn wasn’t angry, but he was cautiously concerned and stopped letting her handle anything hot- for the best she thinks, her hand was already burnt but she hid that with only a few tinges of pain here and there.

“We’ll be out of plates if you keep dropping them.” Vytis mumbles, helping her pick of the pieces, “Mama would lose her mind if she knew you were ruining her good porcelain.” Vytis sticks his pink tongue out, laughing at her good-naturedly as he ties the bag. “I’ll get some wooden ones when I get the chance.” Asch sighs, taking the sack of yet another ruined plate. Vytis looks dubiously at her, “Can we afford that?” He asks, his fine brow pinched in worry, “You know if you’d just let me-“

No.” Asch bites, quickly cutting him off, “You’re not enlisting.” Vytis glares sharply at her, “I’m old enough to decide!”  

Asch sighs her annoyance through her nose, “Four and ten years old is not old enough for anything.” Vytis’ face turns miserable, “Old enough to know where you go at night when you think I’m asleep.” Asch feels her face fill with color, a horrible pit opening in her stomach as he shrugs, ashamed and shifting on his feet, “The other boys say stuff.” Asch swallows a lump stuck thick in her throat, reaching for him and cradling his head in her chest, “I serve drinks, Vytis. I- don’t- don’t listen to those boys.”

“They say awful things.” He mutters sadly, clutching her dress in shaking fists, “Is that… is that why you come home with bruises?” He shrugs again and Asch picks up his chin in her tender hand, forcing his eyes to lift to her own, “No more fighting, okay?”

“Only if you stop dropping plates.” Asch snorts, rubbing his face clean of tears, laughing with him. “Go start your studies, I’ll start your dinner.” Vytis pouts, “You better eat this time too.” If only she could. Asch ruffles his hair, “I eat at work, now shoo.”

Asch washes the pot, frowning in concentration, her ears tweaking at the gentle sound of Vytis in their room, his faint snores bringing her peace.

Vytis was good- far too good. Asch gaze roves over the chipping paint and rotting wood, her parents wouldn’t have let this happen. She frowns, touching the chipped countertop, leaving the pot to dry, her parents weren’t here. Asch wipes her hands, tiptoeing to her wardrobe, pulling her clothes from the recesses, and cradling them as she peers over to Vytis, the only thing visible were the tips of his pinkened ears, and the sight makes her heart swell as it drowns.

Asch admires him for a long moment, wanting nothing more than to elevate his life into something he deserved, something better then cracked countertops and chipping paint- a life where he didn’t have to defend his siters honor and feel the shame of the taunts- a life he didn’t have to consider enlisting day in and out. Father enlisted, but he was proud.

And he paid the price for it. They all paid the price.

Asch slips out of the house with her patch work bag, gripping the handle in her fists and hurrying along the darkening streets. She was going to be late.

Again.

Miss Muller wasn’t unforgiving, but she wasn’t pleased, she knew Asch had a little brother to look out for, but she never played favorites. “Sorry sweetie, you’re on the floor.” Asch weakly sighs, her head drooping in a nod before slinking behind the dish basin to change. When she returns, she fiddles and pulls at the bangles of her outfit, wishing it were longer. Gooseflesh erupts over her exposed arms, Asch attempts to rub away the shivers, but they don’t cease. “You know honey-“ Miss Muller grabs her shoulder, holding a wooden tray to her chest for Asch to take. “Men pay for company,” Asch pales, her ears wilting at the idea. Miss Muller shrugs, “The other girls make good money- you could too.” She pats Asch out the door without another word, making her stumble into the bar. The bartender eyes her with a quirked brow, rubbing a cup clean with a wet rag. Asch offers a soft smile in return, scampering into the crowd and keeping her head down.

 

Turalyon shouldn’t have agreed to go, it was pointless, and he was tired. “Going to bed this early is well and truly pathetic.” Mathias had said to goad him into going, and Turalyon, having had enough of being considered so, went, pride ruffled and irritated. So here he sits, among men far younger than him and feeling foolish. What would he have been doing otherwise? Spending the time with his wife? No. Alleria hadn’t spent more than a week with him since they returned, always making an excuse of something. And Turalyon was foolish enough to let her go.

Well, Pathetic was apt then.

Lately he had been sulking, what would he have done tonight?

Turalyon feels his ears pinken, nursing a sour tasting beer that was more watery swill, he would have sat alone in his chambers, desperately trying to recall his dream, take himself in hand and spill onto his fingers with her name hissed through his teeth and pray he could have another glimpse of her to tide himself over.

Mathias flicks his cheek, snorting as Turalyon jerks, splashing the table with a spot of beer. “What?” He grumbles, making the Spymaster  chuckle, “You seem lost,” Turalyon frowns, dropping his tankard on the table, “I am. I’m too old for this.” Mathias rolls his eyes, “Would you prefer the company six feet under? You’re so miserable I might help you get there.”

Turalyon sighs heavily through his nose, “I shouldn’t have agreed to this.”

 

Mathias heaves up from his chair, “You are tiresome. I need another drink to suffer you.” The Spymaster saunters away, his mind mulling over the misery on the commander’s face, he thought as if his age and situation granted him no more happiness, as if his last wife and son were all he was afforded. Mathias hails for another drink and waits his turn to receive it, pondering what he might do as he eyes the bar with a fine combed scrutiny. Perking suddenly when he spotted a familiar figure in the crowd, a most devious wolf smile erupting along his face. Turalyon was slumped in his seat, his eyes not leaving the edges of their table, but they wouldn’t have anyway- not that a paladin had the eyes of a rogue, or the care for such a skill.

Still, it would suit him, Mathias moved through the crowd, slipping between bodies and revelries, “Hello miss,” He whispers, already catching the tray that was shaking out of her hands in surprise, “Oh- I’m so sorry!” She jumps, spinning between his arms, coloring crimson as their noses brush, “I have a favor to ask of you.”

Turalyon toys with the stem of his drink, pushing it back and forth until it shimmied out of reach, Mathias had been gone for some time, likely tired of his moping, fine. He’d rather be home as it was. Turalyon pushes back, his arms dangling at his sides, readying to haul himself up and trek back to the castle, until two drinks are dumped onto the table and suddenly, his lap is full.

Soft, shivering, and smelling of cheap beer and-

Weapon oil?

Turalyon blinks stunned eyes, shaking his head as if it were fogged with a dream. Eyes stare back at his own, equally wide and confused. Turalyon was tripping over himself trying to catch up, but his breath is seized in his chest, her face was so close to his own. Turalyon could see the tiny details that told her life to him. There was a thin, white scar on the corner of her lip that twitched with her expression, pulling with the shocked part of her lips.

There was another small nick, high on her cheek. Nothing larger than a fingernail could have caused it, a quick little scratch that must have looked ugly healing. Another was hidden slightly behind her hair stripes close together, devoid of tiny soft hair and lighter than her actual skin, a burn. Barely visible and old on her face. Aged longer than most of the boys in the bar.

Her eyes were equal on his face, staring at his scars and the lines that made him look as old as he felt. He’s more aware of his own than she knows, the one scraggly slice across his chin and up his cheek, the thick cut that ruined his brow. The age around his eyes and nose, the little scratches that he felt more than saw, but she can see them, can’t she? He feels laid bare, in a way he hasn’t felt since he was that young man on a strange world, sharing a tent with a girl that he found cocky and stubborn.

Was it uncomfortable? It might have been, given the chance, but he wasn’t. Mathias whistles loud enough to garner their attention, snapping and ridged, he looks utterly elated, his shark grin aimed smugly at Turalyon. “Tell us a story, blacksmith’s girl.” He goads over the rim of his tankard, swiftly casting his eyes to the squirming girl in his lap. Turalyon bit his cheek, the mere warmth of presence was jarring , leaving him with an uncomfortable longing churn. She struggles to sit up, grappling with his armor, the scant little cloth riding up her thighs, high and indecent. Turalyon feels the twitch in his fingers, the urge to fix it over her soft, pinkened flesh, but he doesn’t touch her.

Eyes were gathering, watching them curiously, whispering behind their drinks. Turalyon was going to throttle Mathias. “A-A story?” She sputters, gripping his bracers in her small hands for some semblance of balance. He’s all to aware of her doing it, Mathias hums sickeningly sweet, “How does an apprentice in the castle come to serve drinks?” She was hesitant to answer, the tight reserve in her face that almost tells him she’s going to lie. Turalyon wouldn’t blame her for it, they were strangers.

“I-I have someone to look after.” Yes, Vytis. Turalyon remembers Mathias telling him, and he feels sick with the knowledge, it wasn’t given to him, he had never asked. Yet he knows. Asch shifts on his legs again, and he almost offers her his own chair, but she settles a moment after. It would be too bold to say she was comfortable, tolerate at most. “I-I need to get back to work, Sirs- I…” She gulps, twisting slightly in his lap. Turalyon feels the warmth of her thighs, the skimpier of her feet as she accidently steps on his own. Asch is a fawn, wobbly and pink faced. Turalyon jerks, his lips tight as he bobs his head.

Mathias tosses a bag that clacks on the table, the jingle of gold catches his ear, “For the company.” She scrambles, shakily, hurriedly taking the little bag, “T-thank you S-Sirs.” She barely had time to adjust her skirts, the milk of her thigh open to his eyes.

Turalyon groans, and Mathias laughs.

Chapter 186: Darion Alternate Universe Dabbles 1

Summary:

Darion Mograine/Asch Rosepin

So this idea has been kicking about for a few days, finally got the motivation to post it!
It’s basically what would have happened if Arthas won AU
Its been awhile and I'm sorry about that, I hope this makes up for it, please enjoy this chapter, I already have a rough idea of what the next one looks like.
I'm kind of obsessed with Darion and humans right now, don't know why lol
Enjoy!

Chapter Text

There was a quiet hush over the dead forest that was once vibrant, electric lavender. The trees of pure white now black as rot, the fields under foot once lush and lively yellow were caked with ash and frost. The rancid smell of death clinging to the vile corpse’s fogged the air, turned its color gray, heavy in the lungs and fatal to the weak and sickly.

The ground was raped, rucked up, and stripped of all the precious resource that had made it special, alive. Crystalsong forest was a fond memory, a beauty Tirion could still see, a beauty he would never allow himself to forget. It was safe here, for now, in the rubble of the floating city, its luster long since extinguished. The crackles of dying magic rally in parts of the stone, desperate to pull its foundation skyward. Tirion touches one of the listless floating chunks of stone as he passes under it, wondering if it might quiver and given in, crush his body under the weight.

Like always, it does not, and Tirion returns to the dent in the world where he has claimed as home. On his back sits Ashbringer, but its light was faded and served only as a candle in the dark. The blade dulled, chipped, and the handle was cracked in two places. His eyes adjust to the darkness surrounding him, his feet following the rut toward the inner hole of the cave.

The glow of a fire paints the cracks in the stone walls, dancing, and flickering, he can hear the sound of soft voices before he comes around the corner. His face lights, the crease on his brow eases away with the sound of quiet laughter. “Tirion’s returned!” Arator rises from one of the crude rubble seats beside the fire. Tirion grasps his shoulder firmly, bringing him close. “This land has little left to offer.” His voice is grim, quiet for only Arator’s perked ears. The boy glances toward the small group curled by the fire, meekly nodding. “Rhonin exhausted all the power he had left to keep everyone fed.” Arator’s voice croaks over the words, his lip abused as he nips it bloody.

Tirion swallows thickly, dragging his gaze toward the furs lined along the wall, each dirtied and beaten from use. Rhonin sits limply, his legs stretched wide around a bundle of rough blankets, his face was stone, fallen into a despair he’s worn for weeks. He’s tired and worn, drained of his magic and suffering for it.

“Tirion- were… were you able to…?” Arator whispers, his eyes rimmed red as his dimmed gaze searches Tirion’s face for hope. Tirion nods, but adds, “Not enough, but it will do.” Arator works his jaw, glaring at the limp burlap before sighing, “Asch-?” He calls, turning his head over his shoulder. “Y-Yes?” A lump on the floor shifts, pale fingers rub dark eyes, pushing heavy white hair from cheeks. “You’ve found more?” She stumbles up, carrying hole bitten furs up around her thin shoulders, padding onto her toes toward them.

A gentle shiver rolls through her, Arator’s smile is pained, “Are you alright?” He whispers, rubbing his hands into the meat of her arms. “Soon,” The dark exhaustion in her face pulled at Tirion’s guts, tugging them ruthlessly in reminder they were few, and the few they were, was a boy who was too young to see such heavy war, a man too old for it, a father off the fresh loss of his wife and second son, and an aspiring mage who came to study. Asch grabs the sack from his hands, peering at the contents, her lips working slightly in thought. “It should be just enough.” She appraises, turning her back to Tirion’s deep, tired frown.

Arator weakly nods, running a hand through his grease and dirt damp hair, a small sigh blowing passed his lips “Rhonin hasn’t eaten in days.” Tirion wipes his face of the grime, soot, and sweat, nodding heavily. “Rhonin-?” He was listless, the barest hint of life in his hallowed cheeks. “Tirion.” He lifts his face toward the glow of the Ashbringer, the darkness in the dents of his face show an age he hasn’t reached yet.

“Fordring.” Rhonin greets teasingly, surprising warmth in his gravelled tone. “Redhair.” Tirion creeks as he sits on the hard floor, settling across from the bundle of furs. “Your boy sleeping well?” Rhonin smooths his hand over the softened fluff of Galadin’s bedding, “Some, he misses his mother.” His mouth pulls taut around his teeth, “He knows.” Galadin squirms, rubbing his baby fat cheeks into the tufts, his blunt, half elven ears flicking at the sound of his father’s voice.

“We need to leave, hm?” Rhonin wonders, Tirion hums gently, admiring the two with a weighted heart, his own broken and mangled. “Land is stripped, the forces of Icecrown-“ Tirion is drowned out by the sudden loud rupture of stone around them, another few chunks of rubble settling around, exhausted of magic. “-The foundation of the greatest magically city is about to collapse upon our heads.” Rhonin finishes, chewing his words.

“How far can you take us?” Tirion dreads the answer, when the world collapsed it wasn’t sudden, it was all over the stretch of Northrend, a slow but powerful crawl. Dalaran fell from the sky when the magic begun to die, a strong wave of primordial unholy magic shook the lines of ley energy under the planes of Dragonblight.

“Not far.” Rhonin sighs, scrubbing his face, pushing his darkened dirty hair away from his cheeks. “Off Northrend- at least.” Tirion turns his gaze past the fire, watching Asch crudely twist the herbs in a mortar and pestle, a clouded, chipped bottle filled with blackened water sitting idle on the stone next to her working hands. If there was luxury, Tirion would fear for Rhonin, but in the shadow of Icecrown and its growing army, they were left with little choice. “Tirion.” Asch was looking at him, she was young to, young and full of life, watching it drain from her face was hurtful. Elves didn’t decay the same as humans, Rhonin hallowed, while Tirion withered-

They fade. The color of her face corroded into a pallor white; her fingers ghastly sharp as a phantom. Arator’s eyes were milk, sapped of all color, it was a ghostly stare, one that thankfully Galadin hadn’t come to share with them- yet. “It’s done.” She cradles it to her chest, both of her hands securing it to her breast. Rhonin eases from his hunch, the bones of his shoulders cracking. “Arator.” Tirion lifts himself from the floor, his back protests with a sharp ping in his spine.

“Time to go?” Arator hasn’t lost the hopeful gleam in his eyes, though they no longer look the same, Tirion could still see Turalyon in his son. The wide handsome face of a man, with the lithe and shapely cheeks of an elf, he had the full stubble of a man across the shadow of his face, while his ears were tall and pointed like his mother.

 Rhonin looks at the darkened bluish liquid, face pinched, but he pulls the cork and throws his head back before he can think better of it. Asch gathers up Galadin, rocking the babe in her arms as Rhonin climbs up the wall with one hand behind him for support. “Ready?” He asks as his hands begin the motions, the unstable sparks of magic flare between them. Tirion holds Rhonin’s gaze, the barest shake of his head jostles his lank hair.

“Asch you will go with Arator first.” It was an unspoken sick settle between them all, the old men go last, or not at all. Rhonin spreads his hands wide, the rip in the cave lighting the space with thunderbolts of arcane. They cannot see what’s on the other side, but Arator pushes them inside, their figures swallowed by the flickering portal. “Go.” Rhonin presses out, Tirion curls his lip, hesitating, “Don’t.” Is all he mutters, Rhonin chuckles, offering a weak smile, “Yeah. I won’t.”

It was dull on the other side, darkened by buildings and rubbish, Tirion shakes himself of the wooziness the portal travel gives him. “Silvermoon-“ Arator mutters in awe, spinning around to take in the architecture. “My mother lived here- this… this was her home.” Asch marvels, most of the street was untouched, the shops abandoned, but most of the contents left to dust. “Rhonin-“

“I can sense magic.” He gasps, the sorrowed sound of relief echoing in his voice. “Is it safe?” Asch asks, cradling Galadin in the crook of her neck, “No.” Tirion draws Ashbringer from his shoulder, “Scourge.” Arator snarls, drawing his blade, Rhonin pulls his own, its edge jaggedly broken off. Eight shambling animated corpses drag toward them, bones rattling and skin sloughing off as they stumble.

Asch curls into the nearby wall, watching wide eyed and clutching Galadin to her chest. Her heart beats through him, her nervous hands shaking. Her knees wobble, weak with fear as Tirion charges into the crowd, swinging his mighty sword. Arator isn’t far behind, their blades cut into the brittle bones and tear into the flesh. Some of the scourge wail as if they could feel the pain of dying again, their mouths twisting the sound.

It echoes up the wall and into the air, great ugly black birds flutter into the sky, flying away from the disturbance. Galadin wails, “Its alright- Galadin please-“ Asch coos, desperate to silence the screaming as Rhonin joins the fight, cutting down one of the last few. Arator finishes the last with a stab into the ribs that still hold flesh, tearing up into its chest and severing its body in two.

“We cannot stay here!” Tirion belts, shouldering Ashbringer once more, bounding toward her. Rhonin yanks her arm, pulling her into a rush, forcing her to run with them. The plate of Arator and Tirion’s armor thumps loudly on the stone pavement as they flood through the streets, ducking between alleys and corners. Asch’s bare feet ache each step, the stone cuts into the tender bottoms. She can feel the sting of dirt invading her opening wounds. “Please- do- Tirion where a-are we going?” Asch collides with Rhonin, her shoulder digging to his back as she curls into herself, protecting Galadin as they stumble to a stop. “No-“ She yelps, frantic eyes staring at the dead end. Her heart thunders like a hundred horses, breaking against her ribs.

“Tirion we can- we can just-“ Weak and shallow pants are all Asch can mange to pull into her lungs, the soreness in her legs and feet a forefront in her mind. “I just… I need a…” Rhonin catches her before she collapses into the gravel, circling his arms around her middle and hauling her up into his embrace. “Tirion her feet-“ Her toes trickle with blood, dotting the sand and gravel under her. “We cannot linger.” Tirion warns, the stress lines of his face deep and ugly.

Rhonin swallows thickly, “I know.” He mutters against her hair. Rhonin hoists her knees up under his arm, pulling her into his chest “Rhonin I- I’m sorry.” Asch whispers, pink in the face with shame. She feels Rhonin’s chuckle vibrate through her, “You aren’t heavy.” His teasing lightens her heart, if only for a moment. Their pace is slower now, quiet, and cautious as Tirion and Arator linger ahead and behind, watching for more of the unfortunate souls tortured into servitude. They stalk down the empty streets, following the paths until they come upon grand gates that have a slice open wide enough to slip through.

Arator pads forward, easing his face into the gap, checking the other side for dangers. It was deathly quiet, but the air had grown heavy, a fog rolled through, obscuring everything below the ankle.

“Fordring.” The hiss of a warped voice rings out around them, shattering cold and stilling the fog rolling around their feet as if it became ice to lock them in place. There, beyond in the wide courtyard stood a great and terrible threat. Asch felt her teeth snap shut with a click behind her trembling lips. Tirion had spoken once to Arator and Rhonin in the dead of night when he thought she could not hear. Told of Arthas’ blackened knights, his dread riders of unholy magics.

His faithful Death Knights.

Masters of necromantic magic, the jailers of those long dead unfortunate souls.

One stands there now, with a darkened maw, frost spilling from under the cracks of his bloodied armor, the dead crawling around his feet. The fog had turned a sickly green shadow around him, flies buzzing from the unhinged jaws of the emaciated vile remains. They groan and hiss, cling to his legs like the sand and soil on his boots. His sword drips with sludge, blackened, tainted strings of blood. The body cold with a layer of frost, it reminds her of the first fall of winter on the windows of her father’s inn.

The fire that would roar in the middle of the hall, keeping the window from shattering in the cold, the guests pleasantly warm and polite. She aches for the familiar smell of fresh bread, but her nose twitches at the stale scent of old dead flesh. It turns in her stomach, churning what little food she had in her belly. The blood leaking from her feet chills into her cuts, sealing the wounds shut. Asch curls her toes, frightened they might freeze and fall from her body.

“Darion.” Tirion tilts his chin up in defiance, contempt in the facet of his mouth unbecoming of a man his age, yet at home on his face. “Your rebellion sought it’s end at the gates of your chapel.” He spits the words from his mouth, furious where he stands. Ghouls snap at his ankles, thrusting at the stone like unkept ravenous dogs. Asch buries her nose into the meat of Rhonin’s neck. Tears budding in her eyes as his arms waver under her.

“There is still hope yet.” Tirion curls his fist around the grip of the Ashbringer, the weak glow of light at the blades end trembles in the wind, as if it might flicker from sight. Darion’s laugh echoes with an eerie howl, a mans voice shrouded in vile hatred, the mockery cloying in her ears, ringing fatal prongs picked at her skin.

“This you call hope?” The pulsing hate that was his voice carries over the fog, delivered loud. Tirion does not bend to its press, he bares the weight of it and curls his lip, tightening his hands around the hilt. “Here you stand, here you die.” Darion bites, the froth of unholy magic kicking up around his legs as he darts forward, his sword set back to strike.

Tirion files forward with deceptive speed, they meet in a clash of weapons. What little magic is left waves a flash of glittering light, setting the shambling remnants ablaze, their ghoulish visage becoming dust. The light lashes at Darion, striking him with a force that gave Tirion the moment advantage, Darion is pressed back, their blades scraping against one another. The runes etched on the face of Darion’s mourneblade howl in fury, gnashing and spitting up flecks of black power.

Darion snarls, slicing down, they share blows, the clash of their weapons ringing out in the empty yard. Rhonin begins to peddle backward, his stumble picking up speed before Arator holds him still. Beyond, in the thick of the fog, skitter creatures, their eyes of witch fire glowing beyond the mist. “We’ve no where to run.” He rasps grimly, a pale fear in his face. Rhonin shakes, clutching Asch so tightly it hurt, “Then we make an end.” Rhonin decides, and Arator stands tall, but his blade is limp in his fist.

“Asch?” Rhonin’s voice is soft, sweet in her ear as dread fills them all, she peers up at him, the sweat fresh on his brow and sorrow solid in his eyes. “Y-Yes Rhonin?” The sound of metal striking each other is deafening, but she endeavours to listen. Gently he prompts her down on her own feet, the cold burns her flesh, “Thank you for caring for my son.” He says, his voice wet and miserable, he rummages for something across his belt. “Do this last thing for me?” Rhonin brings a blade up to her eyes, his fingers gripping the sharpened end to hand her the hilt, “Don’t let him suffer.” Asch grasps Galadin, the calm beat of his heart at war with her chittering one.

Tears fall down his cheeks, pooling at his jaw before dropping heavily onto his worn coat. Asch swallows, her eyes following the scuttling bodies in the fog, she takes the knife, and does not speak, her throat fisted closed.

“You’ve lost, Paladin.” Darion mocks, a gleeful ugly chirp in his ghastly tone. “Give in, your Light has left you.” Tirion is bowed, forced nearly to his knees by the force of Darion’s strength, “The Light is always with me!” He bellows, the thunder crack in his voice inflating the pathetic remains of power in the blade into a ball of raging, beautiful shine. Darion yells, staggering back from the blinding surge. The brilliance of a sun dispels the fog, searing the ground, eradicating the agents of death, their bones all but clumps of soot.

It doesn’t stop there, tendrils of Light latch onto Darion, worming under the gaps of his armor, he screams in pain, the slots of his eyes flashing brilliant yellow, before they return to the Lichfire ice. Darion collapses onto his arms, heaving in pain, light dances around his fingers, slithering against the backs of his hands and up his arms, though he pants in excretion, the touch of holy magic teasing his skin only causes a twitch.

“I-“ Darion chokes, a puddle of black spittle drools from his mouth, pooling where his head hangs and clotting the gravel. “I can’t feel… him.” Darion’s neck wrenches up, wild eyes filled with icy mist stare in shock, “The Ashbringer-“

“Its power is no more.” Tirion marvels despite his words, eyes measuring the soldier of cold dark. “Darion?’ He dares, his weapon limp, “Tirion.” Darion answers.

Tirion lets down his weapon, it clatters to the stone, and with both hands he pulls Darion to his feet. “The Light has freed you from his grasp.” Tirion observes, his hands lingering on his arms. Darion nods, his eyes drawn to the stone before them, “You cannot remain here, he will know.” Darion says shoving at his hands, pushing the Paladin towards the grand gates, “All of you-” He says, but Tirion is unmoved, “You must leave now.”

“Come with us.” Tirion beseeches, Darion recoils as if burnt, the visible part of his mouth twisting up into a frown, “That is unwise.” He grunts, shaking his head. “We’ve long to go and little protection, what left is here for you?”

“A death, but one that will carry no secrets of yours.” Darion bites, hissing at the kindness, Tirion is undeterred, “Come with us.” Darion says no more, and his boots echo Tirion’s.

 

 

Chapter 187: Darion Alternate Universe Dabbles 2

Summary:

Darion Mograine/Asch Rosepin

Happy patch day! Warcraft just came out with 9.1 woo!
So please enjoy what I have for you!

TRIGGER WARNING ALSO SPOILER
**Character Death**

Chapter Text

They left Silvermoon with two saddlebags of stale bread, thanks to Darion. Before they had left for the wilderness, he quietly directed Tirion toward the trade district where they found furs untouched and warm clothes along with water and new boots for Asch. Though she still could not put weight on her battered feet, it did her toes well against the harsh cold. With Darion’s addition he brought forth a horse of dead flesh and rage, Iydallus, he called her, near fondness in his warped voice. It was a ghastly thing, large and unmoved by the living, she walked a dead pace, her hooves scoring the path she walked.

Asch was unsettled with the creature, but Tirion lifted her on the beast anyway, rubbing her feet in the cold grasp of his gauntlet, as if to remind her- and himself of the pain. Rhonin kept her company, shielding her back from the chill, he too exhausted to walk. Asch relished the company, if not for the added warmth, but for the human heart and reassuring wrap of his arms. Asch wore her own cloak of wool and wolf fur, but Rhonin shared his, locking the ends around her and Galadin.

Tirion had a large bear pelt swung over his plate, his nose buried into the scruff of it, ahead of the group walking the road as a wall against the wind, but Asch could see he was thinking heavily, considering what before to do now with the weight of the whole parties worries on his shoulders.

Arator kept a close pace to her left, eyeing the Scourge knight that held the lead of his destrier, his daggers of distrusted digging into Darion’s back, and it was not lost on Asch that Arator kept a firm hand on his sword under his own black pelt.

Darion was largely quiet, save the heavy fall of his boots, his own armor was enough to keep him from the chill- if he felt it at all, maybe he did not? The frost that filled his space and followed his tracks came billowing out from under his armor- the man who seemingly did not breath no longer had use for mortal comforts.

He was an unpleasant reminder of the thing she feared worst, the deadly knights of Arthas, made in his image to ravage the land of men, spilling out from the maw of Icecrown to do their masters bidding. Was it all a trick? Would he slaughter them all in the night they slept? Tirion was faraway and unworried- so should she still?

The soldier- Darion. Asch reminds herself, he was morose, unfriendly, but maybe not without a cause. There was relief in his face when Tirion had freed him, a terrified kind that doesn’t quite believe it. Asch could feel, if only a little for the man chained unwillingly to a master. She could also not forget the crimes he committed, her eyes wonder over his hands, the one that stretched out from his body and held the bridle. How many children, wives and boys did those hands strangle?  

The thought brought a shiver up her spine and a jolt in Rhonin, “Are you alright?” he whispers, worriedly. Asch turns her face, nodding softy, “A little cold still.” She says, and Rhonin rubs her sides, bearing his weight into her back.

“Tirion?” He calls over her head, “Where is it you plan to take us now?”

“Lodaeron.” The old knight says.

“Lodaeron?” Rhonin barks, his voice unpleasant and face pinched.

“Undercity was the closet safe haven to the Sin’dorei.” Tirion informs, calling over his shoulder, “We must head south to Stormwind, there is precious little between the capitals beside untamed wilderness.” He speaks with finality, unbending command that leaves Rhonin to scoff, his head comes to rest on her shoulder, his soft breath warming Asch’s cheek.

Darion’s head twitches to the left, his ghastly visage of saronite plate masking most his face. But it cannot hide the glare of his calculating eyes, his armor too has a pelt slung over it, he has no use for warmth, but Asch does not have the nerve to ask what use he makes of it. His eyes twist something sickly inside of her, she feels trapped beneath their hateful stare, unable to look away or take a breath.

Rhonin startles her with a gentle, quick kiss onto her ear. It jolts her gaze to the side of his face, when he gathers her bearing Darion is already looking ahead, his posture stiff and shoulders hiked. “W-What was t-that for?” Asch whispers, her cheeks growing hot, “Didn’t like him looking at you.” Rhonin mumbles, she feels the words thurm in his breast, the vibrate of suspicions. “He wasn’t!” She rasps, pink colored shame blotching her face.

“Scourge take what they want. Keep away from him.” Rhonin’s words were grave as his face, ashen as his expression as it furls up in disgust for the freed knight. Asch fears he might hear, she nods, just to quiet Rhonin, the embarrassment doesn’t leave her, it lingers in her throat and jumps out each time Darion moves, it makes her hands sweat against the fur wrapped around Galadin.

The sunset drains the light of the day into a deepening darkness, but the soft fades of pinks, yellows and oranges are only memory now, the constant cold of winter bathing them in shadows. Tirion holds a torch toward the ground, guiding their path off the road into the thickness of the tree for cover. Two iron candle cages sit on Iydallus’ sides, luminating their faces and the small flecks of snow as they wade through the long grass.

It once had been frightening, to only see darkness, but the long nights in Dalaran did away with any fear she had for it. “Here,” Tirion says, the wind carrying his voice into the canopy of pines. Darion moves to their side, releasing the bridle of his horse. His hands come to touch her, the coldness of his gauntlets sending a shiver up her spine. “I’ll get her down.” Rhonin bites, harsh and full of gashing teeth. Cold, steely fingers linger on the side of her dress, then snatch away. Asch loses sight of his eyes and his back fades into the night.

“Darion and I will watch first.” Tirion says over the small flame of a fire he begins, the wood broken off from the trees beside them. “Then Arator and Rhonin.” His face is painted with flames as it raises into a blaze, bringing color to his cold cheeks. Darion rests against a jagged rock, his figure almost escapes the sight of the fire, but the shadows of his outline are etched into the darkness. He does nothing with his hands, they rest on his legs as he droops forward. Tirion slips over beside him, his armor catching the light.

“If I’m to ride, I can take the last watch.” Asch insists, warming her hands over the growing fire, “You can’t alone.” Tirion snaps.

“I will with her.” Darion grunts, “I need little sleep.”

No- Tirion! No.” Rhonin protests, fists clenching at his sides. The fire does little to temper his expression, the hateful snarl filling with shadows where the warm light cannot reach. “I wish to be help of some kind.” Asch moans softly, irked Rhonin would deny her- despite the unease she felt in the presence of Darion. “So be it then.” Tirion says, tone skeptical and curious.

Asch thought and thought as she lay in the soft grass, her head nestled in the spare fur Tirion had given her from Iydallus’s saddle bag. Her belly was full, a first since the wave of cold had destroyed the magic. If she had known she might not have refused her mothers soup- mother. There was little chance she was alive, when Dalaran rumbled and began to fall, she had been one of the few to be close enough to Rhonin to survive, others had perished, turned to mangled husks of skin and blood at the base of the crash. Her mother was across Dalaran, serving drinks her father made behind the bar.

There was no time to consider looking for them, she spared them a thought each night, begging them to be dead and not another one of the Lich kings walking thralls. It was all so strange, sadness only came after it was all over and her new life had begun, but it came in quiet moments, moments she had a chance to remember she was studying under one of the greatest minds, mastering magics well beyond her supposed skill level.

Her parents were proud, a mage of the Kirin Tor, they liked to tease her, Good morning Archmage. Her mother would say, Asch would tell her to stop- but now she missed hearing it so badly.

Her new purpose in this new world was not so shiny, not a future she even planned for herself- but the men didn’t know what to do with a sobbing baby and Rhonin was desperate, so as the only woman among them she tried, and Galadin tamed some under her care that it made them all right. At first, she hated it, felt betrayed- but Galadin had no mother and her anger turned to sorrow soon after.

What future was there for him now? What future was there for them all? Tirion spoke only of what their immediate actions were, not where they would settle- if they would at all. They couldn’t travel forever. And certainly not with one of the Lich Kings own among them.

Her thoughts once more returned to Darion, what it meant that he was here. Tirion had come to Dalaran, the sweat on his face flew down in a river, the scars of fresh battle burned into his armor- and the sky fell before he could utter a word of warning.

They had understood then that he had failed at Light’s hope, and Arthas punished him harshly for it.

Arator shook her from her dreamless sleep, falling down beside her before she even rose to her knees. She brushes hair from his face, smiling softly at the troubled peace he found in his rest. She covers herself in long fur cloak, burying her nose against the cold before hesitantly joining Darion in his vigil of the land. He was animated in this, his eyes scanning the brush, his fingers drumming over the flat face of his runeblade. It was dull now, the living etches quiet without a cause, tame with no blood to feast upon.

Her ears curl into her hair, the tips numb from the whipping wind, she steals a glance when she notices his head is craned to the horizon, his chin was covered in a lush honey blonde beard, groomed neat around his mouth, it was stiff from the ice, but it was more human than she had expected. The purpose and vanity to shape it into a style, not even Tirion trimmed his beard, unkept and long around his face as it was, it at least saved him from the cold. Arator had the whispers of a beard that would grow over his face, though he looked more elf than man, it would fit his handsome face nicely. Arator hated the feeling of it, the itch and dirt. She envied them all, her hair only growing long and heavy, not much use against the cold.

What?” His voice was cruel as the crack of dawn, snapping her out of her stupor, she realizes he’s staring at her with those dagger slices for eyes, and she was first staring at him. “N-Nothing- Sir!” She squeaks lamely, sequestering herself in the lump of her furs, she hears him growl in annoyance, move in his armor, “Wake everyone. Its time we leave.”

“Yes sir of course!” Asch sputters, withering inside what are you doing you fool? She hisses to herself, stumbling off the rocks, legs twisted in the cloak. Darion yanks her straight, gripping her arm too tightly. “Stop calling me that.” He orders, letting her free before she can rise a whimper of pain.

Her skin throbs where he squeezed, her mind is in shambles.

Arator shares the saddle with her this day, sitting lazily behind her, his hands loose on her hips. Rhonin stands too close to Iydallus, but unlike a living horse, she does not grow nervous at him clipping her side.

Asch hates horses, too easily spooked, too easily violent. The beasts were too tall. Iydallus is no exception, her head was wide, high, and proud, but it held no living emotion, not one she at least admired out of the living kind. This horse- Deathchargers they call them, once mighty warhorses, now raised into service as much as their masters. Iydallus’ armor is chilled, hammer beaten black plate that is artful as it is enchanted, the necromancy thurms along it like a cloying fog, ever present.

Asch wonders how they might have come to be, what created them? Do they all look this way? Are some worse, bones without skin as she as seen the Forsaken ride? Iydallus is intact, her black pelt stretches over heavy muscle and bone, a sturdy thing- were they all like this? Darion was no one she could ask, not for the least he won’t answer, but for the chill she feels in his proximity.

He hates her as much as she fears him, his tolerance only as high as his respect for Tirion. What was he doing with them? Her eyes glue to the back of his plate helm, he stares ahead, unknowing, or uncaring of her gaze. Would he leave once they were in the safety of a city? His debt to Tirion fulfilled. Where would he go? Return to his master too unused to the freedom and beg for his tether back?

Darion turns his head once more; the glancing blow of his eyes bow her own to her lap. Asch flushes in shame, it warms the tips of her ears as she stares at her fidgeting hands- why do you keep staring? Something in her stomach lurched, tugging at her insides, it was dangerous to goad him, to bother him like this. When would his patience end? Her arm began to hurt again.

 

Lodaeron came upon the tree line, the thick forest fading behind them as the bare land, stripped by Horde occupiers stretched out around them. The sole standing kingdom stuck out in a ruin and rubble pile; its old glory tamped down by its very own crowned prince. The misfortune this once grand place faced was countless, the Forsaken misshaped this once beautiful land into a barren husk, leaving stumps of tall old pines to rot all around. Farmlands were raised and salted, the dirt dark and ugly, churning with flies. Old trenches were churning with rot of old and new corpses, turned into mass graves. There were old shovels beside them, punctured into the flesh of the ground, as if someone intended to bury the dead.

Darion steers Iydallus away from it, a wide around about, perhaps a kindness, but the smell was still overpowering. As they pass some of the bones and decaying flesh stir, Arator makes a disgusted noise as Asch covers her mouth to shield her gasp, Darion tugs Iydallus’ reins harshly, yanking her away from the piles. The beast makes no sound of protest, moving along at his speeded pace.

The gates and grand throne room still stand, but its mostly in rot and disrepair, the stones look lonely, sad as they slump without care. There was dust and age on the flee bitten flags and code of arms. Tirion moves heavily toward the throne, his head drawn in reservation. Asch slips down from Iydallus, her feet impacting harshly and shooting pain up her legs.

“Tirion…?” She calls, lingering at the bitten and chipped dais, her toes curling away from the cold. Tirion extends his hand, Asch takes it, allowing him to pull her up the steps toward the ashen throne. The furs and finery were eroded away, but there were spots of blood marring the fur. “This is where the world died, child.” He whispers, his eyes shiny with tears.

Tirion swipes hair from the side of her face, something brings out a smile, “Come.”

Iydallus’ hooves are deafening on the stone beneath them, echoing out in the open air. They pass through splintered, broken barricades, Darion their shadow and Tirion their guard. Undercity was ugly, warped into something sickly after being taken over, the districts were hallowed, the foul air had no escape and Asch felt as though she could heave at the stench.

There was little commotion, no people of any kind. Tirion draws his sword, pulling back into the group as the stalk through the corridors, moving inward toward the sanctum of the royal quarters. The path was well travelled, dust cakes the outside of the walkway, but the inside is fresh with steps, then fresh with pools of blood.

Tirion halts, reeled back at the sight, its thick, wet still on the floor, scrapped along the rug and onto stone.

Come in.” the voice is dark, theatrical, and damaged, awaiting them already in the Royal quarters. Darion shoves forward with Tirion, kicking into the old doors that separated them from the blood wrecked room.

“Koltira.” Darion hisses, his weapon drawn. The other knight is bare faced, his helm scattered on the floor, ripped into by a weapon. Beside his feet lay the corpses of Lor’themar Thoren and Grand Magister Rommath. His phoenix staff is broken in two, splintered on the floor and without a pulse of magic.

The grand weapon of the Sin’dorei lays stiff in Lor’themar’s rigor mortis shut fist. Their eyes are wide, unseeing, and staring at her, the blood and milk draining from their slopped lids makes her well up in fear, the tears of loss prickling under her skin. She knew them. Not well, not at all, but Rommath was kind to her once upon a time, it seemed so far away now, only month prior. It was an apprentice banquet, every master brought their student, Rhonin brought her and Rommath came alone.

He called it a duty, to meet and know the future of the Kirin Tor, introduce himself to all the younglings, she had been one, and he had said little, but it was the highlight of her life. Rhonin took very few students, and he was impressed with her cunning.

He was cooling in his sticky blood, his face drained of all color and his expression gaunt. “You’ve arrived just in time, Darion.” Koltira purrs sickly, his fingers steepling grotesquely over their bodies, a warped purple and black wisp of necromantic magic flooding out of his palm. Their bodies twitch, first in the hands and slowly down the arms.

“No stop-!” Asch shrieks, pushing past Rhonin before Arator stops her, arms grappling her waist and shoving her back into him before she can manage to get past Darion and Tirion. She struggles against him, prying at his arms, shoving her fists into his steel trap grip.

The bodies fall into a slump, the hallow, ugly Lichfire eyes looking beyond the two into her own eyes. “My… It is true? You’ve abandoned the Master.”

He laughs, suddenly his gaze darts to Tirion, “You failed at Light’s Hope and in a last ditch attempt you’ve freed our weakest brother.”

“Leave here, Koltira.” Darion breathes tetchy, his shoulders pulling up in a coil, ready to strike.

Or what? You’ll stop me?” He mocks, “The old paladin has made you soft. The Lich King will reward me for killing weakness in his ranks.” Koltira chargers forward in a whirl of inhuman speed, his sword raised in his hands. Darion meets him, the clash is loud in the intimate space. The brute strength they possess is equal, the blows shared meeting without an exact winner. Darion pushes before Koltira breaks the contact, his sword arcing down. Darion parry’s the blow, deflecting it from biting his side.

They keep trading, the sting of metal and sparks of the clash, “You’re weak Mograine- just like your father!” Koltira taunts, shoving at his shoulder, trying to throw his balance. Darion is planted, skidding from the impact but not off base. Koltira roars in fury, and Darion darts forward.

It’s a wet, bone shattering sound, the sword splitting open his ribs as Darion sinks it forward. Black blood spills from the split lips, oozing down his throat. Asch breaks out of Arator’s hold, stumbling forward into Tirion and knocking him off center.

“He will have you!” Koltira’s belts, his claw raises through the gap of Darion’s arm. A dark bolt of power lurches from the tips of his fingers before Darion can stop it. “No!” someone cries, shoving Asch to the ground. “Ah!” She cries, her hands slamming into the stone. “Arator!” Tirion yelps, catching his body before it impacts painfully to the floor.

“I-I-“ Arator breath is fast, hard out of his chest. “It- It hurts-“ Tears flood from his eyes, Asch’s eyes dart to his face, to the hole in his armor, welling up with gushes of blood. “Arator-“ She screams, he reaches for her blindly, his fingers growing weak as she grabs his hand “Are- are you- a-alright?” blood spits from his mouth, the soft tan of his face becoming ashen. “I am- Arator stay with us!” Asch begs, griping his arm to her body, squeezing his fingers in her own. “I- I feel… the Light.” He says warmly, his voice fading, “No- no please Arator please.” She cries, redoubling her efforts grasping his face, abandoning his hand, and pulling him into her embrace.

His breath shallows, before it stops, his eyes fading gently into a dull gray. “Arator please.” Asch sobs, the emptiness ice in her veins. Tirion pulls her free, handles her into his grasp though she fights him, clawing at his armor and cutting her fingers on the sharpened edges. “Please-“ Asch cries, struggling, Tirion forces her face into his shoulder, letting her cries die there. The soft, persistence heartbeat against her cheek, thrumming behind the sinew of his throat calm her wracked sobs into small snivels.

Tirion clutches onto her as he raises to the reins of Iydallus, his soft hushes and gentle rumbles coaxing her to a mournful silence.

Chapter 188: Darion Alternate Universe Dabbles 3

Summary:

Darion Mograine/Asch Rosepin
Happy raid opening!
This was made before the raid came out and I don't have the next chapter since I've been busy with my guild...
Hopefully I can get some time to hammer the next out!
In the meantime, enjoy Warcraft and enjoy this chapter!

Chapter Text

Darion trudges beside them, his boots sloshing in the mud as the road grows slick from the rain, the sky crying for the boy no older than herself. “Its my fault.” She wheezes, Tirion shakes his head, “He pushed us both from the blast.”

“He would not wish you to mourn. Arator is with the Light.” Tirion soothes a hand down her side, Asch swallows her protests, he was only a year younger than she is. He planned to find his parents, train under the light with the Silverhand, Turalyon had been one of the first, along side Tirion and Uther. The admiration Arator had when he spoke of his father, begging Tirion to tell him everything he knew about his brother in arms.

Rhonin was deathly quiet, his face buried in the furs that his baby was wrapped in, and just then she realized Arator had been his nephew, one of the last few links to his wife. He had not spoken a word since they left Undercity, yet another place they could not stop and rest.

Arathi was ravaged land, abandon during the campaign in Northrend, but old trappings of war waged still lingered in the soil. The roads were boot beaten ruts, leading from encampments long packed away and moved, to the old ruins of Stromgarde keep to Hammerfall. There was little here, the mountain locked terrain was of little value to Arthas and his Scourge. It was here, finally, in the old alliance camp of Refuge Pointe that they could rest their heads without worry.

The mine was caved in, rocks piling at the stuffed mouth, unable to be moved for shelter, but the hide tents and covers meant for protection from the rain still stood, not valuable enough to uproot. They were all in fair condition, if not a little moth bitten and aging. An upturned forge lay in soot and stones, old rotting logs stuck under its rubble. The two wide gaps once guarded by soldiers were maws of open space now, but with Darion and Tirion they had little need to worry.

Rhonin was sifting through a broken-down carriage, salvaging woolen blankets and spare amenities, the most luxurious was a pale dress of fitted silks, but the real prize was in a simple burlap bag, nearly a dozen plain soap cakes sat unused in Rhonin’s hands.

The sneer thought of a bath with something to pull the filth out of her skin brought her mood out of its mournful stupor. “Mograine!” Rhonin shouts, trudging out from the wreckage of the canopy. Darion pauses his careful inspection of his runeblade, his hand poised on the surface with a dirtied scrap of linen.

“That beast beholden only to you?” He remarks, jerking his head toward Iyldallus, “She is.” He says, an almost curious note in his chilling tone. Rhonin grunts, sighing his annoyance through his nose. Tirion wipes his hands, bending up from the roaring fire he started “What of it Rhonin?”

Rhonin pulls one of the yellowed bars from the sack, aiming it in the old paladin’s direction, “Was hoping to take it down to the stream not far south from here.” He says, dropping the soap back with the rest. Tirion muses a moment, eying the sky, making a judge on the weather, the further south they went the better it seemed to be. The breeze was the only chill they felt thus far.

“All of us will go.” He decides, a small smile on his face as he regards them.

The stream bottomed out near the edge of a wide hill, the water shook with the wind, moving with the impact. It was shallow at the edges, the center only shoulder deep. Rhonin was the first into the water, with Galadin in his arms, modesty the last thing on his mind as he gratefully began to rub the filth from his arms.

Tirion was second into the water, wading through to the middle before sinking under the cold surface. Their clothes, armor and weapons lingered at the edge, as if they had no fear for anything. Though they were hardly defenceless.

Asch stood at the edge, her ankles submerged in the pool, but no further. She clutched her tattered dress, pink in the face at the idea. Rhonin pulls his head out of the water, nestling Galadin in a basket found forgotten in the carriage. “You know none of us will look!” He teases, seeing her standing there. Tirion pulls his wet hair from his face, regarding her coolly, a gentle beckon with his hand before he turns his attention away, pointedly ignoring her.

“Darion, join us.” Tirion encourages. The death knight sat sullenly on a rock beside his mount, tending his sword, “Wash the blood from your skin.”

“And the stench.” Rhonin sneers, rinsing soap from Galadin’s soft reddish locks.

Darion glowers, his lip curling under his helm, lingering at the edge long enough Asch thought he would forfeit the chance out of spite. But as she hid in the water, lengths away from the others, she watches him stab the earth with his weapon, raising to remove his helm.

Asch watches ever curious as he lifts it from his face. Unruly honey blonde hair tumbles out, the ends curling just enough out of his eyes and around his ears in a short, kept style. His beard was as she thought, a handsome, fluffy thing that circles his mouth and dresses his lip. He was surprisingly warm, there was no ghastly hail to his skin, only a tint of sun warmth.

Her eyes shy away as he slips out of his armor, the deep death wound marring his side the last she had the courage to see. Instead, she focuses on the water, the grime on her own skin. Vigorously scrapping it away until it felt raw and pink. Her hair was a tangled mess she takes the pain to undo, weaving her fingers through the clumps, removing all kinds of debris. Leaves, small twigs, and bits of dirt that balled into the recesses of her hair.

Asch intently focused on each part, combing it thrice until it was pale once more. Satisfied, she glances at the water, it was empty, save the wind whistling on the surface. Panic floods her veins, “Tirion? Rhonin?” She yelps, franticly searching the water for them.

But its Darion who answers, “They’ve returned to camp.” His naked face is turned down to his weapon, the barest glance toward her. Asch can’t help the jerk of her hands as she covers herself in fear. Darion no longer minds her, his eyes fixated on his own labors. His hair was slick and shiny from the soap, devoid of stain.

On the shore, where she laid her only clothes, lay the silken gown that Rhonin found, her old, tattered dress no where to be found. She spares only a moment to wonder why they both left her with Darion alone, but the softness of the silk as she pulls it on distracts her from caring.

She was no stranger to fine things, her parents always providing the best for her. Mageweave robes for her studies and silken soft dresses in every color they could fine. Wool and cotton for her bedding and plush slip shoes for her feet. It was a beautiful thing, the sleeves long and bell wide. It hugged her chest, shaping her breasts around the tight fabric, but covered her to the collarbone. The skirt hugged her hips closely, flaring out just enough to obscure the line of her legs. Asch toes her boots on and finds Darion peering at her now, his dark and unsettling eyes blazing with quiet blue fire. He wore most of his armor, his chest covered in the black plate, but his hands are free of the confines of his gauntlets, and his head too was bare.

The natural way his hair dries makes it look soft, the wind only slightly sweeping the curl. Seeing him so closely, she realises he had a handsome face, the hawkish nose, the rounded, hauntingly beautiful eyes. High cheekbones with wisps of shadow clinging to the corners of his chiselled jaw.

Darion sees her too, but there is no flush on his face to tell her what he thinks. There is no expression at all. What does he see? A stranger? An inconvenience?

“It isn’t your fault.” He says, his voice a soft growl, and she realises tears are falling down her cheeks. Her heart wears thin, breaking in her chest again, the little repairs crumbling under his heavy voice. Her arms comfort herself because he offers nothing, “It should have been me.” She whispers.

“It should have been no one.” Darion hisses, “Stop crying for the dead. They cannot hear you.”

Asch’s head snaps, anger flickering through her sorrow, “How can you say that?!” He moves, his height dwarfing her own. “Waste it on the living.” His breath tickled her face, the chill of it stinging her cheeks. There was an unsure frown on his face, deepening as they stare at one another. Nothing he said was a comfort, but it makes her feel lighter.

Asch tilts up to him, meeting the soft, coldness of his lips, he moves with a jerk, flinching back from her space with a wide, furious furrow dragging his brow down. The angry rejection grows a pit as wide as the Northrend scar, and the embarrassment makes her run.

The smoke from the fire Tirion built leads her to camp, Rhonin’s shouting could be heard clear over the canyon. “You left her alone with him?” He bellows.

Tirion sighs, as if he had been battling over this since his return, “He is our ally- what slight has he committed?”

Rhonin opens his mouth, but his attention flicks toward her soft, ashamed sobbing. “I- oh Asch. Are you alright? What has he done?” She blubbers pathetically in her hands, cowering behind her fists, shoving away from Rhonin and into the overturned carriage. No one follows her, but the sound of her own echoed cries, bounding off the walls from inside the small space it eerily sounds like a banshee’s mournful wail.

An airy, but forceful knock on the wood outside beyond the curtain of old tattered fabric makes her jolt in surprise, hastily wiping her tears away from her cheeks. “Asch?” Tirion calls her, his voice just above a whisper. He pushes the fabric away from his face as he ducks inside, bending under the loose fabric, hunched under the poor roof. “What’s happened?” His question echoes Rhonin’s, but instead is sad, worried for her instead of what’s been done to her.

“H-He was cruel.” She hiccups, ruining her sleeve with a few more tears, “And I-I k-kissed him.”

“You kissed him.” Tirion parrots, without a lick of emotion, he sits heavily, his armor noisy in its task to settle. “He said I shouldn’t cry f- for Arator.” She says, Tirion hums, considering his next words, “You shouldn’t. He would not like to see you sad. I… know its hard.” His voice grows quiet, deep with regret. “You’re both so young, and I have failed you.” Asch reaches for him, squeezing his palm in her own. The air is thick around them, the invasion of his failure choking her. Asch doesn’t feel the loss the way he does, it doesn’t hurt her in the same way. “Where are we going. Tirion? Will we walk forever?”

No,” he says, looking somewhere far away, long gone from here, “We travel to Karazhan.”

Asch’s nose prickles, the sour disgust in her face turning her sorrow into something else for the moment. “Karazhan?” The way it spits from her mouth makes him laugh, “Khadgar lives, he is gathering civilians for a final departure.”

This piques her curiosity, “To where?”

Tirion pats her hand, letting her go, “Outland, child.” Outland? The Legion had made it home for hundreds of years, hosing their army and weapons across the husk of a once beautiful world. “I see you thinking, Asch.” He taunts, a crook smiles casting across his old face, “Its safe, from Arthas, the Legion no longer lingers in every crack.” There’s a miserable twist to his mouth, “It is safer than here.” Admitting it was a dagger to her belly, an omission of guilt and another failure- not just his own, but them all.

None of them could stop Arthas, hold back the tide of his undead army as it swept though, killing, and raising the fallen. His goal- the Lich King’s goal was the same as the last villain’s, and the last after that, to defeat the Legion. It had been Illidan Stormrage’s goal, and many heroes of the ancient war. But Arthas sought to destroy this world in his attempt and had been the only one of them all to do so.

“We’ll abandon Azeroth?” It was no longer a home. But the thought still scares her, that there was nothing they could do to save it. Tirion sighs, “Or die with the cold dark that will consume it.”

“One day we will return, defend this world again.” He says, nodding with conviction, “You might live to see it.”

“You will too,” she says, a hiccupping cry leaving her throat at the idea of him no longer being in her life. “Yes, I think I might.” He croons, laying on the dead grass, content to stay with her.

 

Darion was a viper, striking at any who tread to close to his space, the foulness of his mood blackening ground as he walked, killing everything he trudged upon. It was an ugly thing to behold, Iydallus was yanked along the roads, the horse had neither complaint nor emotion, but it was clear he had no use for the force. Rhonin and Asch were far ahead with Galadin, none of them making use of the mount. Tirion did not press either of them, it was a challenge to be near Darion like this. His dark mood was raising the dead things littering the roads and decaying what managed to grow out of the soil beneath them.

Feeling the evil scuttle on their heels was an omen for the kind of response he would receive, but for the benefit of all, Tirion spoke, “Asch spoke of what happened between the two of you.”

Darion snarls, the conversation already aged past his interest. “Mend things. If not to spare us all this…” He peers around at the creatures advancing, small dead woodland critters, decaying before his eyes, and some, not so favorable pieces of long dead farmers and common folk. Darion spares a glance over his shoulder, hissing sharply, what next, he does Tirion cannot say, but what follows them no longer does. Whatever magic possessed them to animate loses its luster and once more they are rotting flesh and bone, left scattered across the gravel road toward the mountains of Dun Morogh. “Darion it will only become worse.” Tirion tries once more, to his own peril he knows, but he is compelled forward by the curious anger Darion responds with. It was a simple kiss Tirion wants to say, to stop this foolishness. Darion curls his lip back from his teeth, the pearl white of them visible even under the maw of his helm.

“Mend what?” He snaps, “She is content enough with her husband.” Tirion blinks, staring ahead at them both, the closeness shared. “Rhonin’s wife died, Darion.” Tirion whispers, the knight’s eyes linger on him, his jaw twitching “The boy is elven.” Darion chews the words, prickled despite how hard he tried to hide it.

Tirion chuckles, its at his expense and he knows it to be so, the sharp daggers of Darion’s glare pinch his skin. “So was his wife, Vereesa Windrunner.”

“Windrunner?” The anger is dispelled from his tone, only the cold ache of a warped young voice left behind. “They had two boys, twins. Vereesa and the other did not survive. Asch looks after the boy. I’m afraid Rhonin is quite helpless without her.” What Darion does with what Tirion tells him is a mystery, for long they walk without a word between them. It was oddly beautiful; the passage was intact and it made the way into Dwarf land smooth and without detour.

It was here that snow belonged and for that Tirion could appreciate the sight, though it cooled what remained unhidden by his cloaks and armor.

“The Lich King had a Windrunner.” Darion finally says the snow on their boots making a soft, crisp sound as they walk. The distant murmur of conversation lulls Tirion into a security he has not felt in an age, it felt safer here than anywhere else, perhaps it was the sun overhead, or the fact they were growing closer to their goal, wherever the peace had come, Tirion revels in it.

“He did?” Tirion asks, listening to the gravelled hum in response, Darion’s mood seemed to cool with the weather, tempering out into a tolerable companion. “He enjoyed tormenting it.” It. Tirion hopes it was not Vereesa, as uncharitable as the thought could be. Alleria had been missing for an age along with her husband, so it left Sylvannas or her youngest sister.

“Do you know which sister?” He asks, a shed of worry in his aged voice. Darion shrugs, “The Ranger General.” Sylvannas. Tirion breathes a sigh of relief, at least it was not Rhonin’s wife.

“You say it, as if she is a thing.” Tirion says, and Darion nods grimly, “She is, a thing. A toy for him to amuse himself with. Whatever she was, she is no longer.” His reply is upsetting, but he had no use to soften or mince words, Tirion could only imagine what harsh words were given to Asch.

Asch turns, awaiting them now as they grow closer to the Dwarven stronghold of Ironforge, her face is pink from the cold, and Galadin is sleeping at her breast, content, and quiet, and warm. Darion grows stiff as they near the two, less eager to be in her presence.

But she spares him no glance, having only eyes for Tirion as they come to stop before the others, “Are we taking rest in the city?” She says, rather excited. Asch bounces Galadin in her arms, moving herself from foot to foot to keep the heat in her body.

“No,” Tirion shakes his head, “The Dwarves have sealed shut their gates and broken their passages, they allow none inside their city.” It had happened rather fast, word had spread throughout the kingdoms that Tirion failed to stop the advance at Light’s hope, and from Silvermoon to the southern bay cities, towns and farms closed their doors and sealed themselves inside their homes. The Dwarves were particularly successful in this, Ironforge was carved out of the great mountain, the ways they kept their people fed easily sustaining them through siege. The dwarven kind could hole up for centuries and await the world to the end of time before they would find need to leave their forge city.

Asch frowns softly, her eyes flicking between them a moment before she grows sullen, a meek nod is all that is left of her, returning ahead with Rhonin, who now grows quiet as his companion.

Darion grunts, pulling along the reins as they begin moving once more, “Please for the sake of us all, apologize.” He knows that he is close to pathetically begging, but the poor thing did not need his hateful scorn, “She is sweet, and meant you no harm.”

“And yet harm she has done.” Darion spews hatefully, but Tirion can only wonder what did that mean?

 

Chapter 189: Darion AU Dabbles 4

Summary:

Darion Mograine/Asch Rosepin

A bit overdue, sorry about that. I got a little caught up with life and this was sitting in my finished folders for a while.

Anyway, enjoy!

Chapter Text

 

The journey to Red Ridge left them frozen, the flash freeze hanging over the Searing Gorge to Burning Stepps, left them shivering, huddling for warmth through the tundra. Tirion tilted in her space, offering his embrace. Rhonin sat huddled atop Iydallus with Galadin, his face half hidden in the thick furs hiked around his shoulders. Darion tugs them forward with the rusted chains that served as Iydallus’ reins. His armor was misted over with snow, left over from the wastelands they walked through, living off the chill in his flesh.

Iydallus was most at home in the snow, her massive hooves press the snow flat under her, the almost proud way she carried herself, it was the most emotion Asch had seen pit of the horse, though she doubts it was truly capable.

“Were they living horses, once?” Asch whispers to Tirion, the cold on her breath chilling her teeth sore. Tirion grumbles, his exhale fogging the space in front of his nose, carrying up over his eyes with the wind. “Death chargers were once war steeds of the crusaders. Consecrated creatures bred for the Silverhand.” There’s a smile in the sound of his voice, but Asch was too frozen to pull her face out of the furs surrounding them.

“Most were seized in the struggle for Tyr’s Hand. They were warped into what you see now, servants of their master Knights.” She wonders if Darion could hear them, if he even cared. “Do… all of… them have one?” Tirion chuckles at her sudden hushed tone, “They do, Arthas insured all his knights were given a formidable steed.” The name is dirt in their throats, a foul belch of a man no one wished to mention any longer.

“Is it hard- to wield the Light?” She wants to leave it behind, forget him as if he was another passing, horrible wind. “At first. Faith does not come easy; virtues and practices seem… tedious. Many young men struggle with it.” He says, age and wisdom present in his voice as if he has lived far too long. Asch hugs him tightly, her voice swollen in her throat. While his hair was greying, there was still deep, black strands of hair that peppered his beard and crown.

“I did once.” Tirion sighs wistfully, “You did?” Asch spouts, it makes him exhale a small laugh. “Yes, I wasn’t always so devoted. I was foolish too once, busy with girls, busy with thoughts of fame.” The rough spun thread of his glove rubs and catches her sleeve, but it is a welcome feeling. “Well, you are famous, at least.” She pokes his side, smiling though it hurts her cheeks.

“I was married once too. Those days are long past.” He says.

Asch nudges him again with more force for breathing life to the offensive thought, “You saved me- you saved all of us- even one of the Lich King’s own.” Tirion turns his gaze, and Asch meets it, despite how the cold whips at her cheeks. He sighs heavily, warming the peak of her pointed ear.

“Thank you,” He finally accepts, and the press forward.

The mounds of snow were growing smaller the further south they went, Elwynn Forest was nothing like she remembered it, the dead, ashen grass darken the once vibrant, hills. The massive oaks that trailed the paths were rotting and black, oozing with some unpleasant sap that stained the forest floor around it. They did not move deep into the decay, edging around the mountain around the outskirts, but Tirion warily draws his weapon, scanning the surrounding area for threats of any kind. Darion was close on her heels, close enough she could feel the ice of his armor and cloud of his being. Rhonin curled inward and toward the lift of the mountain wall, watching with thinning patience.

“Hold!” A voice calls, “Peace!” They all spin to the sound, watching a hand raise to them, the palm was purpled, dark with dirt and badly bandaged. “Who goes there?” Tirion tamps down what remains of the grey grass, moving to create a barrier with himself.

From beyond the tree the other moves, revealing themselves, “A Kaldorei?” Rhonin huffs with exasperation. His mossy beard was tangled with dead brush, his leathers old and well worn, bitten into by a recent battle. His face was relieved, elated suddenly “Tirion Fordring!” He cheers, his back straightening from its hunch. Great, elk horns raise from the crest of his temples, whole save some jagged chips on the twisted branches of its form.

Tirion’s chin angles down, his eyes hard as he inspects the other, his mouth caught in a tight line. “Who are you?” He asks one more, equally as unfriendly. The moon-touched elf seems unbothered by his bark, “Broll Bearmantle, it is an honor, Highlord.” He says with a lopsided, easy smile that is full and white and slightly sharp teeth.

“You seek Karazhan, we do as well.” Tirion’s head jerks, his eyes darting through the brush, “We?” The ugly distrust makes it known in his hiss. “Peace Tirion, you have no enemies.” Another comes from the brush, followed by two others.

“Varian? Bolvar?” Tirion gasps, both men in broken plate and torn leather emerge with alike expressions, tired relief, just as their other companion. The last was a woman, Asch’s own kind, hair of spun gold and eyes of green Fel- once her own kind. Her eyes remain distrusting, hateful at little even as she hunches, ready to recede into the dead forest again.

“It has been an age, Bolvar.” Tirion says, his arms growing limp. “It has. I am glad to see-”

“What is that Scourge dog doing with you?” Varain Interrupts, vile reaping anger spilling from his voice with a growl. Asch eyes Darion carefully, watching the lack of reaction.

“He is an ally. I freed him myself from the grasp of Arthas.” Tirion tells them, Varian’s lip curls, the grip on his sword growing tight in his fist. “Deception.”

“To what end?” Darion speaks, voice flat as if he were unimpressed. Varian lunges, but Broll and Bolvar keep him at bay, “Ours, filth.”

Darion laughs, cruel and without humor, “Arthas has no patience to trick his prey. Least of all Fordring.”

Varian snarls, “Tirion you’ve doomed us all!”

Tirion glares sharply at Varian, in a swift and careful motion, he heaves the Ashbringer into his hands, “The last of the holy light cleansed Darion at Silvermoon, he is not our enemy.” Bolvar trudges forward, a look of utter disbelief upon his rugged face, “Truly? It is extinguished…” The utter agony in his voice pulls in Asch’s chest. His fingers sweep across the face of the blade, mourning the loss with Tirion.

“He’s traveled with you all this time?” Bolvar whispers, but it was as good as shouted in the dead forest. “Yes. He has brought us no harm, killed even one of his old brethren in our defense.”

Bolvar toys with it for a long moment, his mouth working around his teeth, “If you Highlord say that he is a friend, then so he is.”

Varian jerks out of Brolls hold growling furiously, withdrawn from the group. The other pale elf goes to his side, a mask of concern as she touches his upper arm. She begins to whisper something in his ear, but its only a murmur of nonsense in Asch’s ears.

“It’s fortunate we’ve found you at least.” Bolvar says, “We were holding little hope of finding survivors to journey with us to Karazhan.”

They begin to fall in step with little coaxing, though Varian and the woman linger far in the back, ten paces from the rest of the party. “No civilians?” Tirion asks, and Bolvar shakes his head, “None, the little left in Stormwind perished from wounds too grave for either Broll or I to tend.” Bolvar’s head hangs in shame.

“We lost a companion, Arator, Turalyon’s boy.” They share in the anguish, their plate boots heavy on the dirt road. “We have all lost so much.”

Tirion shakes his head, disposing of the conversation “I know you know of Rhonin, his son Galadin, but you haven’t the pleasure to meet Asch, Bolvar.”

Asch perks her face from the embrace of her fur cloak, “Hello,” She offers him, with a small smile. He offers one back, his beard stretching around the shape of his smile. His chocolate hair clung to his cheeks and darkened his pale face with shadows they all shared. “A pleasure my lady.” He says sweetly, a brightness in his eyes.

“Are you all leaving the capital?” She asks, walking close to Tirion, who seemed at ease with her presence. “Just this morning,” Bolvar says, offering a crooked smile, “Have you seen many winters, my lady?” Asch huffs out a laugh, her breath a frost in front of her face. Bolvar shares it, huddling in his clock slightly.

“Only eighteen thus far, Sir.” Bolvar looks rather surprised to hear this, “Is that so? It’s far and few to be in the presence of an Elfling.” His pale peach face was pinkened under the dirt, it was handsome on his cheeks. “Not all of us are thousands of years old.” Quips the other elven woman, Bolvar sullies, frowning over his shoulder, “Of course- I know this Valeera!” Valeera. The name did not ring any bells of remembrance in Asch.

The woman trailing close to Varian reminds her of the tapestries in Silvermoon, the very picture of her people. Her golden-spun hair, to her bloody red, green gem encrusted ensemble, and her pinched, proud face. It was not lost on her that Valeera’s snide expression grew fouler when it found its way to Asch, for what purpose she could not say.

It bothered her, while she was so close to such malice, but the other elf seemed keen dislodge herself from her own party, perhaps she would not see anything of the woman after they arrived at Karazhan.

Bolvar in the meantime kept the travel interesting, capturing her and Tirion’s attention and conversation, with all manner of topics. It stoked her spirit, warming her through the empty passageways, the hole in the mountain that served as the entrance to Deadwind pass was cramped and one my one they trailed through, Darion and Iydallus severed the exit, the only path was now forward. Though as ever, his charger did not flinch or fuss in the little space it had to walk forward, but she doubted he could get it to turn back.

The pass was clogged with snow and sleet, a near unbearable cold if not for the huddle of their parties, each body providing warmth to their inner circle. Asch was privileged to be in the inner most ring, clutching Galadin to her chest. The baby had slept through most of the journey here, content and quiet and only a little pale from the cold. While Tirion and Bolvar took head of the group, Darion was far removed, a dark omen behind them, though she felt a comfort that he was there.

It went unnoticed by the rest of them that he took the duty of guarding their backs, exposing his own- perhaps not to Tirion, but Rhonin certainly. Asch worries her lip as the peaks of Karazhan’s towers poke over the snowy mounds of the mountain’s tops, would he leave them here? She wondered.

It was a question she had asked before; it would remain unanswered like the rest.

He had not once tried to speak to her again, not even dare look at her after they kissed- after she kissed him. He was repulsed by the very notion, it was clear on his face, the fury his eyes held. Her arm still bruised where he grabbed her that dawn, it seemed too utterly far away and yet not at all.

“Asch? Are you alright?” Bolvar’s kind and gentle voice coaxes her from her worrisome mind, his face the fullest of concern, she smiles at him, but it does not reach the rest of her face. “Yes- just lost in thought.” He peers at her pensively, opening his mouth before he silences himself, a tense smile of his own and a resigned nod.

“We’ve arrived.” Tirion says, a mix of relief and exhaustion. The doors to the stables were heavy looking oak, largely untouched by the whipping wind and snow. Tirion steps up to the small entry, banging his fist into the carved planks.

“Who goes there?!” The voice echoes through the slats in the door, menacing and short of patience.

“Tirion Fordring and party.” He belts, though he hardly needs it. His voice carries over the tops of the mountain peaks and disturbs the darkest ravens Asch as even seen. Karazhan as known for its fowl, as well as its secrets. One could so easily get lost in its vaults and rooms and hidden paths.

“You’ve a Lich King’s foul servant in your midst!” He hisses, and the door remains unmoved. It grows colder here, as if the evil magics Arthas unleashed knew it was a haven. “Enough of this! On my order has High King open this door!” Varian shoves through the crowd of them all, banging his own fist into the meat of the wood. 

 

“Varian?” A mild, softer voice makes itself known beyond, there is a murmur of discussion, hurried and impatient before the door is finally pulled inward, the creak of the hinges protesting the very act. The pile inside, the snow making its grand entrance with them, practically pushing its way inside against their ankles. “Tirion! Varian!” The Archmage Khadgar shouts in recognition, over-fondness in his weathered voice, “Rhonin- all of you I am so glad to see your faces.” He says, ushering them inside with his arms. “Khadgar, its good to see you alive.” Rhonin hugs the other tightly, “It’s been quite awhile.”

“Has it?” He says, chucking softly, Rhonin pats his shoulder, “You’ve gone grey my friend, your use of the arcane as done you little favours.”

Khadgar frowns, his eyes rolling, “I thought I looked quite disguised, Tirion wears it well enough.” In a minor show of vanity Tirion runs a hand through his locks, “Not all grey.” He mutters, much to their amusement. “Come, come inside we have food to spare you and a fire to warm you.” The inner walls of Karazhan wail with the wind, the stones protesting its entry, but without the strength to stop it.

There were small snow piles in the corners of the stalls, the empty forge cold and lifeless. Darion pulls Iydallus into the closest stall, leaving her reins hanging before her legs. “Ah this is the Death Knight the doorman is so afraid of?” At his mention Darion stills, his armor creaking together at his pause. “The stench of control does not linger on this one,” Khadgar muses, sniffling the cold air, “Impressive, though unrepeatable.” His eyes scan the Ashbringer with a forlorn longing.

“Come, you may not need it, but warmth awaits you.”

The inner workings of the castle Karazhan were magnificent despite its decrepit state, the opera hall was naked of all furnishings, the rot of dust only disturbed by the careful path of feet and benchmarks moved. No colorful tapestries, but the dirtied outline of where they once hang. The grand organ is eerie, its stool overturned and velvet cushion rotting with age. The Grand Ballroom that leads to it was equally empty, a few cobwebs in the corners of the darkened ceilings. The only thing that remained were the chipped marble busts that stand on old wooden pedestals. Some were unrecognizable and others were dusted over with a thick layer of grey filth.

There were large, whitened parts of the floor where rugs used to cover the space. Few torches hung on the wall, lighting their path up the flights of stairs. The brass railings were cold to the touch and the golden motifs were falling apart from the stone wall carvings.

As they pass under the archways toward the Guest Chambers the halls were lit with torches, the floor from end to end were patch covered with all the rugs missing from the rest of the castle. With the torch fire and fluff of the rugs under foot it created a heat trap Asch was grateful for.

“The rooms are plentiful enough that you’ll all have space to yourselves.” Khadgar hums, gesturing to the many doorways, “There is more than enough bedding for all of you, down the hall you’ll find the fire pit, food and company.”

Khadgar moves ahead, smiling as he does so, “Please make yourselves comfortable.”

“Khadgar a moment?” Tirion calls, moving through the rest of them. “When do you plan to part for Outland?” The elder mage scratches his chin, “Our next departure will be in two days time.”

“The next?” Tirion parrots, confused. Khadgar nods rather proudly, “Yes. We are fortunate enough to grow a few herbs here for potions. I’ve portalled dozens of refuges to Shattrah City.” Tirion perks, “Truly?”

“Truly.” Khadgar says, and its like an exhale of calm, a long awaited safe, “Please, rest and you will welcome a new home soon.”

It had felt like years is the last she has spent her nights alone in a bed with no other. Small parts mourn the heat and heartbeat of another, but it feels wonderful to stretch her limbs out on the bed, stiff with age but yet cozy with cushions left by the previous occupant.

Cold wind tickled her face. Asch blinks, her eyes staring into blazing Lichfire. They were so close she could see the shape of the fire made eyes. The molten embrace in the sockets of his eyes like chunks of smoldering blue coal. They stare into her, burning spots into her flesh, heating her skin up with every passing second, he does not speak.

His lips were glossy with the moistness of her lips, drawn tightly around his teeth. Darion was stilted as he stood towering before her, not a breath in his chest. Asch chokes on the shame, but her feet are planted to the soil as if something other worldly would not allow her to move.

Why?” Darion speaks after the longest time, his voice curious and demanding. Asch swallows, her fear tangible between them as she pokes her tongue out to wet her lips slightly. He watches, transfixed with everything that still makes her living, watching her breath in her chest, her subtle motions that carry with her movements. It was unnerving for more than a few reasons.

“W-Why?” She parrots, unsure of else she could say. Darion’s mouth twists, he fights the impatience. “You- y-you are no less d-deserving.” Darion recoils slightly, his head raising as his cruel, cold eyes look down upon her. His eyes do not blink, they do not need too. Nothing moves, his undeath left him forgetting his own humanity, left his chest steel, left him harsh.

“I am the most undeserving.” Darion snarls, palpable hatred, there is a warble of fitful darkness that sets her heart aflutter with panic, it grows worse when his eyes fall to where it lay hidden under her flesh and bones. “You fear me.” She cannot deny the accusation, but she cannot shrink away.

“You make it so.” Asch says defiantly, Darion glares, but is silent, stewing. It almost seemed a pout if not for the menacing blackness that permeates his being. Darion is a lost bottle in the sea, his expression forlorn, trapped within the confines of himself. He curses lowly, it sounds ugly on his mouth, his focus returns.

Darion leans toward her stiffly, his lips are cool, stilted as he returns her affection, not quite the same, but his mimic to hers means more than she can say. Asch is elated and shocked in the same breath. His icy fingers brush the bottom of her jaw, tilting her up to his consumption. Asch gasps, breaking apart for air. “I’d forgotten…” He mutters, a reminiscent longing across his face. Two chilled fingers press gently against her chest, feeling the thunder of her heart’s reaction. Darion presses his lips forward again, a force of passion and impatience. A soft noise raises from her throat as he tugs into him, chest pressed into the frozen plate of his armor.

Palms clutching her elbows Darion lifts, Asch gasps in his mouth, her toes no longer able to touch the soft dirt. He moves, his plate boots scrapping against each other. The soft press of smooth rock jars her, Darion places her upon the tilt of it, she can see his Runeblade gnashing at the stone, furious belches of frost pull from the craved runes along its dark steel. It draws ger attention, dragging her gaze toward it. Darion moves his affections to her throat; his teeth tease her pulse point.

Asch shivers, eyelids flickering. A whisper escapes her, fades into his ear has her breath tickles his face. “Am I yet your choice?” Darion rasps. Asch reaches his gaze, feels the waft of cold on her cheeks, “Darion.”

Darion.

“Darion-“ Asch jerks, her chest heaving, clutching the furs between her fingers. She looks for him, but the room is empty, the furniture vacant, the door is locked as she left it.

Chapter 190: Darion AU dabbles 5

Summary:

Darion Mograine/Asch Rosepin

I am so so sorry; I don't have an excuse, but Covid has hit my life harder than I could have ever expect. I don’t really want to go into it, but I hope anyone who is still reading can forgive me. Please enjoy, I tried hard to get something out.

Chapter Text

 

What did it mean? Asch sits, pushing the bread and bits of meat and vegetable around her plate. Its good food going to waste, growing cold despite the fireplace roaring to life the dull gray stone walls of her room. The rest of her is warmed, it was a foreign feeling- to be warm. Asch was grateful for it all, grateful to Khadgar for housing her, feeding her, and giving her a future on a desolate planet far from here.

But she could not focus on the food, on the warmth and safety- those eyes, the sockets filled with unholy lich fire, the man who held only contempt for her.

There were yet marks on her arm. It was sore, throbbing, purple in places where the meat of his hands were harsh. There were eyes on her, making her spin to see nothing but dust in the dark corners of the room. Asch let her food there, taking the candle in her cold hands and climbing out of the comfort of the warm room into the dimly lit hall.

There was laughter, singing, and delight in the common room, she could see the fire livening the shadows of their animated gestures. Asch hesitated, it should have been easy, her friends would welcome her, wish her to sit with them and share in the firelight.

But it was lonely, it had been since the world shattered under his fist, her tears were so cold they had frozen upon her face, there wasn’t a soul to wipe it away. It was lonely.

Was he lonely? This man who had left her arm bruised black, bitten by fingers and frost. It hurt to feel lonely, to be the last in the world and wonder where the halcyon days had gone, Darion was the only one, the lost soldier, the man without time, without a friend. He had a purpose to fulfil, an owed favor to Tirion, was it paid?

Was he still here?

Asch wondered as she wandered down the empty darkened hallways, they were bereft of live, of any kind of care they were accustomed to seeing, those days were past now, even the mighty Stormwind will someday fall to disrepair and in its old cobble, moan at the loss of her grand keepers. Karazhan wailed with upset, the wind making a sickly echo, a dying one.

It terrified Asch, her candle flickered, cringed at the cold air that threated to snuff out its small light. It was growing cold now, her clothes were not built for winter, she wasn’t built for winter. Asch remembers the caress of summer nights, the warmth on her face she would feel in the air. Cold could not reach her, but now it iced her over into a statue, one lost of life and love, one that only knows of pain and loss.

Arator- Arator. He was as young as she was, and his bones will age with her, his skin will peel from his handsome pale face and soon he will lay dusted with snow and ice- perhaps the Lich King will take him for himself, for his army of undead. What possibly could he want now? This king of ice, he had taken the world, now her friend- her friends. Asch misses him, like an icy coil in her heart, fed by the cold around her.

Asch’s fingers began to shake, making the candle dance like a ballerina in show, the wax cools quickly around the sides, not warm enough to make it into the holder. There was a deep, rumbling sound of the castle settling, rusted chains dragging across old stone floors. The sables were not far some here, Darion would be here, he had to be, for where else would a lone knight be but with his horse.

Asch’s feet make little sound on the carved naked stone, the pain prickles her up her toes, it stings her bones, but she presses on, and fonds what she seeks.

Darion sits alone, head hanging between his arms, his shoulders were sagging in the plate, the metals looked as if they were accustomed to rubbing together, as if he had sat like this many nights.

He knows that she is here, the subtle sway of his helmet makes that known to her, she looks at him, her mouth hung open without a word for why she is here.

I’m lonely.

I’m lonely.

I’m so utterly alone.

Tears trail down her cheeks without her permission, they fall and freeze her face. Darion, he mustn’t need to breathe, but there is a silent huff of cold air that escapes the slice in his armor, with a great, horrible sound, he shoves another crate outward, toward her and jerks his head. Her whole frame shakes as she sits down, from the cold and her utter sadness.

I miss him.

I feel so alone.

They don’t speak.

 

 

Chapter 191: Wrathion dabbles 1

Summary:

Wrathion/orginal female character

Well, someone asked me about dragonflight and if I would write about one of the dragons featuring. I ran with it, not really knowing what to expect out of the expansion. It's a little shorter than what I wanted but where it ended felt the best. I thought it was a nice introduction to his own personal story since he hasn't gotten one yet.

Please enjoy and let me know what you think, and as always, I'm open to suggestions and conversations down below!

Chapter Text

 

It was molten, alive with bubbles that could burn skin, blister up a scar he could never repair, give him a scar, and leave him with a story. Maybe he fought a fire element, maybe a dragon- maybe.

Maybe he if wasn’t one they would believe him.

He walks the beaten blunted path that so many have before him, just so, it was empty now, void of life except the persistent life of lava that could lead you to the core of the earth with its veins. If he had a moment, he might have admired the tenacity, the will to live on despite everything else dying.

The bones of his father, the charred corpses that scatter around like flaked remains of something lesser. He does not touch them, doesn’t dare disturb this place. It was a relic that was no longer his legacy, his want for nothing more than to leave his place behind in his memory and to never return.

It was not his idea to come back, but it had been shoved upon him.

“Please, we are his last children.” Ebyssian pleas, his horse of a face twisting in despair.

“I am not his child!”

“Wrathion. Please.”

It was simple courtesy to return to this place, take one final look until it was sealed from mortal view once more. Ebyssian had played the strings of his heart, one last look to see what his grandfather had been, where he had lived, plotted perhaps. If there was anything more that he wanted out of the bones. Ebyssian had made out with a few stones he found precious, some teeth from long dead creatures. Wrathion would not know what he might find here, but he expected very little of interest.

So, he walks the halls, his boots echoing off the stones, listening to the drip, drip, drip of water in the cavern, peering around as if any of it could catch his eye.

Remarkably, something had.

Drogbar were clearing some lasts of the rubble from old passages, to assure it would not all cave in, lest history be lost.

Ebyssian had said he hardly paid attention to the outer caves, only finding the keepsakes within the inner sanctum. Wrathion spins upon his heel, marching through the working Drogbar. They pay him little mind, and even less respect, he was hardly deserving, and he accepted such a thing swiftly. They had only seen a black dragon and Ebyssian’s goodwill went much further than his own reputation.

There was hardly anything here, darkened paths that begun to hallow into a simple nest of some sorts. “Was this newly opened?” Wrathion calls toward any of the workers, hoping they might answer him. One does, with a simple nod, jerking his chin forward into the darkness. Wrathion felt the flames of curiosity lick under his skin, there was the sound of running water beyond, and the beating of life’s heart, he follows the sound of the flow.

It was a pinhole size, he had no vision and only touch alone to guide his way, it was stuffy and hard to breathe in such a tightened space. It might have been best to let them chisel it out into a real path, but the smell of something had brought him forward until the faintest light came forth.

Gradually it came to him, the sight of a small garden petaled out, the crack of moonlight bathing the area before him. The center of it dropped a flow of water into a pool, grassy mounds, and colorful flora decorated the area in sprigs, bushes with berries of black and red dotted the area. Wrathion was marvelled, until he saw a bush with few bits taken off.

As his eyes scanned the area, it had become clear something had taken up residence here, there was a grassy, puffed mound that dipped in a way that it seemed like a bed, a fur bunched up as if someone had left it in a hurry.

Wrathion felt his mouth twitch with a near cruel thought he then shouts, “Come out, or I will torch your little haven.” In a show of power, he inflames his hand, threatening the brush he stands next too. There was no motion, no sound, he snorts softly, waving his fingers closer to the brush, smoke would fill the area far faster than fire could spread, the crack not big enough to billow it out fast enough, whatever decided to ignore his command would soon find a painfully long death.

“W-Wait p-please sir-“ A little, terrified voice calls after him. Wrathion stills his hand, gaze snapping toward the darkness of the corner where the light could not reach. From the trees and tall grass a woman scampers, nearly trips, a flash of frozen color, a blank beautiful snap of brilliant white hair comes into his sight, snuffing the flame from his hand out and stilling his breath.

The girl fumbles for purchase, her pink, freakish eyes searching, pleading, but not daring to look above his knees. Her face was pale as moonlight, shimmering silver scales decorated her skin in patches, horns pull from the crown of her head and stand tall over the op of her skull, soot gray and dull even in the light.

Wrathion’s brow grows deeply troubled, she curls into the tree as if she begged it to swallow her whole, as if she had never expected to see another being in this place, for how could she? There was water and food, she would have little reason to leave or be in need of company.

“Did… did Master send you? She is shaking with fear, her nails digging in the bark, they were little and chipped, nothing of a dragons. What is she?

“Master?” He quests, careful of his tone, watching her flinch anyway. She worries her lip, stressing it bloody red as she struggles to answer. “Master… Neltharion” Her eyes clench shut, the visceral fear that accompanies his fathers name is hardly new, but this was of a different kind.

“I… no-“ Wrathion is puzzled, “My… grandfather- he is dead.” There was not any kind of peace to this revelation he thought he might find on her, in fact the turmoil seems to worsen, turn her cold and traumatized, “Y-You must… be master Wrathion?” He nods, measuring her with a gaze she would not meet, “I was… meant for you, sir.”

He works his jaw, Ebyssian inherited trinkets.

The old goat might laugh at his misfortune, Wrathion might too, if not faced with something so terrified of him, still there was something funny- grandfather and his gifts.

“Meant for me?” Wrathion stands straighter, head tilted ever so slightly as he watches her work up to speaking. “Yes, master- h-he c-created m-me for you.” She whispers, her voice as soft as a gentle strum of a harp, a prefect, soothing coo that suited him just fine. Concerning.

Wrathion shakes himself of his thoughts, gnawing on his cheek, “What are you then?” An enigma, a puzzle, a missing something he wished to understand. She was in the shape of any elf he had seen, thinner and paler, but her ears were still sharp and tall, but the moonlight shows the dusting of scales, her horns a giveaway for something unlikely mortal.

Grandfather was fond of his experiments.

“I-I do not… know, master I- forgive me. Its b-been so long.” How long? She would not know that, too long. Elves had no tells, she appeared so young, but she could easily be as old two generations of kings. Wrathion toyed with a few questions in the silence, do you have family? What has he done to you? Why won't you look at me?

But he settles for just one, “What is your name?”

She swallows, and he watches the column of her throat work, the blood visibly throbbing in the tendons and sinew, it was beautiful, to see something so alive, so vulnerable to his power. A doe in the glade of a dragon, what a probing thought.

“Master… called me Asch.” Grandfather was blunt and boring, but there was poetry in her namesake, the fallout of a flame, the dust that settles, the gray that she matches. The last embers of a fire, the glow of a once great fire that with a spark if the right kind could ignite it. Was that why you left this here, grandfather?

Asking the long dead questions they could never answer might drive him just as mad, so he chooses to assume this responsibility rather than ponder why it had been dumped upon him. 

“Asch,” Wrathion tests the name, a smirk emerges from the corner of his mouth of its own accord.

 

 

Chapter 192: Shadowlands Kael'thas Dabbles 1

Summary:

Kael'thas Sunstrider/Asch Keengaze

Well, well, well, look who's finally back, making all the same spelling mistakes.
But no, really, sorry it’s been a few months, hopefully you enjoy this chapter. I wanted to write Kael'thas, he’s a character I haven't tackled fully and I could really wring out some rich angst from his story. I’ve got some loose plans for the future at least, so enjoy this is far and if you’ve got any feedback always welcome to share! In the meantime, Get ready for season four! :D And Dragonflight! :D

Chapter Text

It started with the best intentions. The palace was empty, the braves away fighting a war on all fronts, on other worlds. Her Father was to make for the dark portal at the behest of her fiancé. Kael’thas Sunstrider. She was an embarrassment, this Asch knew- and knew it well. Kael’thas was pressured to find a suitable wife, and she was convenient.

It had not been anything special or romantic, in fact, the invitation she acquired to the party was by sheer, utter, dumb luck. Her friend of a friend- who had an important friend, humored her own and that was the only reason she was even invited to the same place the prince of her people was. Free drinks, darling. Chalise purred, the drunk she was. Still, it was more than she was ever offered before, so she took the chance to pretend to be something more and went in a dress her mother owned because she could not afford anything nice.

Asch had been minding herself, watching Chalise make a fool of herself in front of actual lord and ladies, pretending she was more than a lesser girl of a privilege house. Asch was often beside such things, but really, they could just afford food and little luxury, whatever class she had was borrowed and butchered in the way she spoke.

Still, she enjoyed the wine that was, a glass that was worth more than her father’s yearly commission as a foot solider and swallowed it with only a tiny bit of bitterness, at least, until she heard.

“Fine. That one.”

It might have been the beginning of the end for her, or a new beginning entirely, but it had been the end of something. The prince, the golden boy with robes of red and a face of sin, approached her, so causally parted the crowd as if it were not there, came to her from all the way across the room, as if somehow, he had picked her on purpose, Asch doubts that very much. He has simply said; “Did you happen to want a husband?” It was teasing, a boyish smirk plastered on his face as if he were playing some joke on someone, he looked all too pleased with himself, as if she would never think of saying no.

And she had made him right, standing there, letting him be smug about it, but it was not her game, she was just a pawn in whatever he as doing- playing at. Her only thought was mother will not cry anymore.

At first, she thought it truly was a joke, a game to paly on whoever he was with, but after that night, royal guards had come in the morning, her mother was terrified, but they had father in tow, all the way behind them, and their orders were to escort them to the palace.

Mother had nearly lost her mind when she was finally given the truth of the matter, standing in beautiful apartments, the trunks of their whole house scattered around, she squealed with joy, jumping around, ecstatic that her father was given a captain commission- “His own command!”

“Just like that?” She huffs, clutching her empty wine glass, watching him. Kael’thas- Prince Sunstrider snorts, much too amused “Just like that.”

Father had been joyous, watching his wife skitter around the apartments, it had been weeks since they had seen each other, her father had a few more scars than the last Asch remembers, but he was Whole and that is what mattered to her, at least. Her parents living- and at least safe now. They had found him just like that. Her name was not of much importance, Keengaze. Now it was on everyone’s lips, whispered about in the streets, cursed by the mouths of other girls that wanted him more.

Other girls deserved him more, with better lineage, better houses, Asch was not angry at the vitriol, she was apart of a game he was playing, nothing more, nothing less, and she would revel the benefits for her mother and father- and at least a decent education for herself.

It had all been a ploy to get his advisors to leave him be, she had found, his mind less interested in the proceedings of becoming king, becoming a husband. It was all secondary, to whatever his goals were. Some said self interest power, some said the war, some said the preservation of the people. Asch did not much care what her fiancé had on his mind, her mother was safe, and her father would not find himself in danger any longer, so she could read her books and practice her magic without worrying much about his business.

She sometimes felt the weight of sham when maids would crowd her and drag her awake for early appointments with a dress maker, or decisions regarding her wedding. She could stand to be pricked by needles, make vapid decisions on what colors look best, how classic, or modern she wished, and the style of her napkins.

Square, with a lace trim, and a waste of silk.

All of it felt like a waste, too much of this and that. A wedding was the largest, needless waste of resources she could imagine in a recession, the kingdom was fighting a war, this gold should have gone toward war machines, to men’s commission- to food. She could have a pauper wedding, a fake sham they all knew it was, be finished with it.

But the longer it went on, the more she understood, she was just a minute fix, he had no intentions of marrying her, no intentions of trying to make it look real enough to the council that loathed her from the moment she set foot in the palace. That was all fine, but she was growing concerned for the future of her family. Money would become an issue once more, they would be outcast, the girl that was not good enough for the prince.

For her mother and father, actions needed to be taken, and swiftly.

It was embarrassing, to walk herself up the steps, Kael’thas was here, but gaining an audience was difficult, even for someone that was to be his wife- of convenience. Asch was barred from bothering him.

“I need to speak to him.” Asch pleads just enough that it does not upset her ego. The guards scowl at her, like she was nothing more than a common street rat. A common rat in silks and satins. “Ask if he will see me, please?” Is the last she tries, hoping they will pity her. One curls his lip but does. He leaves his companion to glare at her, but she stands there with some kind of victory- she is not sure what it is, but it feels good at least. As if she had authority here.

It is a long, strange wait, she is rolling on her the balls on her feet, wiping her sweaty hands on the satin dress that is but isn’t hers and likely ruining it. Asch almost thinks this was their way of dismissing her, but finally, the guard returns, jerking his had in the gap he leaves for her to enter.

The palace was lavish, but the inner quarters of the royal assembly was muted, purposeful and unchanged, a tad dusty, but that only means, no one was permitted to enter here. Kael’thas is not alone, there were men she barely recognizes as his generals, they look displeased with her presence.

“Ah.” Kael’thas starts, looking at her smugly, his fingers steepling across the old wood table, it almost seems as if he knows what to expect from here, but she will speak anyway, because something must give, and if she mut be the one, so be it.

“My adoring wife.” He teases when she does not speak, too afraid suddenly to try- but she can manage a scoff, “That-“ bubbles from her mouth, but it dies when he looks at her, and he is too handsome. “You- you haven’t made me y-your wife y-yet.” She tries to be bold, but the last time she was in a room with him, Asch was drunk and thought he was joking.

Kael’thas levels his gaze, admiring what she says a moment, “No, I haven’t.” He muses, pretending to think about what that means, “Do you have a dress?”

“P-Partly- yes…” Her voice is small in his presence, he grins wolfishly, “Go put it on for me.”

Asch had assumed he was making fun of her somehow, but she did as told, wrestled into the half crafted dress what was mostly pins and pieces, the maids were none to pleased, but when the Prince says, it doesn’t matter that she had to be practically tied into a dress that might fall apart at the barely stitched seams.

Asch is scared to move in it, every shift and she worries that it will snap off, the girls crowding her do not let the end touch the floor, heavy enough three of them were holding clumps of fabric in their arms as they trail after her at the slowest speed because they are all horrified.

Kael’thas is generous, not making her travel far, standing there with the grand priest that’s more miffed than angry with them. He is quietly appreciative his prince is finally doing it. The maids are so careful when they rest her dress on the ground, hesitating only moments, watching it, as if it would slop off her. Its only then, as the girls begin to walk backward, that she realizes mother is not here.

“W-Wait-“ Asch spouts scared- she wants her mom.

“Regretting your decision already?” Kael’thas is at least in good spirits, “N-No I- my mother. I would like her here, please.” She wants to cry, Kael’thas frowns, watching her face, before something soft ripples in his eyes, “Guard,” He snaps, “Find lady Keengaze, we will wait.” One of them goes. Quick on their feet despite the plate armor he wears. “A shame it isn’t finished.” Kael’thas mutters, watching her with a shade of concern, wondering if she may bolt- Asch may still. But her mother, is there, bursting through the doors with a simple shawl and simple robes, “Darling!” She is excited, bowing to the prince.

Mother makes everything better, easier. Kael’thas watches as her mother dotes upon her, does not interrupt the fretting she does with Asch’s hair, pulling it from her face, pinning it with ones from her own hair, making sure her cheeks are clean- like a mother does.

“Your father will hate to miss this.” She scolds, wrapping Asch’s hair in a high messy bun. Kael’thas chuckles, “Shall I have him fetched too?” Her mother smiles at him, “How sweet of you, I’m afraid he’s too far.”

Kael’thas conjures a simple ball of fire in his palm, “Nothing is too far for a mage.” His sweetness was beginning to turn Asch’s cheeks pink. There was truly little she knew about her prince, besides what everyone knew. He was cocky, intelligent, cunning- tactical, flirty, arrogant, impressive. Handsome- but not kind.

Her heart was hammering in her chest as her mother insisted the Grand priest begin, not letting him kindly create a dimension door to her father’s camp in the blasted lands.

It begins like all traditional ceremonies do, from the book as if it were just anyone’s. It was dull to start, but Kael’thas stand with her, closer than he had ever been, and smells like earthly herbs- Asch had not expected that, magic, yes, but not something so calming as common garden foliage. It tasted like arcane so closely, that cloys to the top of her mouth, sticking to her roof of her teeth, she cannot get away from it, the slight acidic taste, but its not so horrible, especially not when it takes her hand in his own.

The grand priest wraps their hand in a silken cloth, and Kael’thas’ hand is so warm compared to her, but she had to have expected such a thing, he was a mage that practiced fire, she had an interest in frost and barely made a snowflake in her palm the other day.

“I pledge my honor to you, I shall protect you from darkness, and stand by your side and carry you only in my heart of hearts.” He tells her, looking at her- and that was not traditional words. It makes her mouth dry out, watching his eyes resolve into something thicker than steel, as if he had meant it.

“I-I want to b-be yours, to have y-you, to care f-for you, to be beside you in dangers a-and victories. To be all you have a-and to h-have all you a-are.” They are borrowed, her mothers, but when she sees the affect, the widened of his eyes and the slight part of plumped lips, she knows what her mother had meant now.

Father had been just as speechless, dumbstruck her mother called him lovingly, he hated it, but loved her for it too.

Would they be the same? Had she gotten it wrong?

“Kiss and seal your promises to each other.” The Grand priest says, Kael needs no encouragement beyond that, sealing his lips over her own in a rush, his hands cradle her face, tugging her to him, her stumbles into his body, the hard lines under his robes, Asch gropes the front lapels, a sorely hidden attempt to feel more of the man that’s now her husband because this is the longest they have been near each other.

It was exhilarating, to feel this, the be wanted- unless it was all in her head. The way he held her in his hands- it could not just be her.

Her mothers’ squeaks remind them that they were not alone, and he lets her go, reluctantly she wants to think, his fingers slip from her face, in awe of what he has done.

 

It was so strange to be here, to have started one way, having only agreed to keep her family safe and healthy, to end up here, in her new husbands’ private quarters, a little more smitten than she started.

Ah, but he was not quite her husband yet.

In name only, but they stand here alone, expected to change such a thing.

Asch was hardly shy, but not so bold as to just be confident. Her dress remained pinned haplessly to her body, he stands there, facing away from her, his thoughts his own as he looks the bed, sheets replaced with white silk satins.

“I’ll be leaving soon.” He whispers, but its so loud in the room, echoing off the walls like a ghost. “To Outland.” Kael’thas does not sound afraid, does not sound anything. “Will my father go with you?” She asks because she cannot think of him leaving. “I don’t know.” He shrugs off his cloaks, leaving him in robes, simple without bangles, without pomp.

“Will you come back?” His robes are shucked over his head, “I don’t know.”

That makes her belly pull, bubble in fear, his stomach is chiseled, sculped around muscle bumps that ripple with his movement. His arms are firm, shaped around demanding work, she’s staring and for the moment, they let the melancholy of the moment pass, “Am I to your liking, wife?” He taunts playfully, enjoying being the spectacle of her gaze. Asch swallows hard, growing nervous and small under his scrutiny. His hand wraps around some silk parts of her dress, rubbing the fabric between her fingers before tugging at it slightly, it pulls her to his chest, loosing the pins of her dress, separating the seams from each other, making it drop from her back.

Asch gasps, pressing into his chest while the front of her dress sinks to the floor. She felt so exposed. Kael’thas steals another heated kiss, more passion behind this one as their naked skin mushes together. He was so warm. It felt wonderful, he was solid, like a firm beam or a stone tower.

Kael’thas is all tongue and teeth, the clicks, the gazing, the nips to her tongue, it was so possessive, more than she could have asked out of a husband, more effort than she ever thought he would give.

Asch gasps when he has cleverly got her by the thighs, using his height against her and lifting until she is forced to straddle his waist, he moves them from the lump of their clothes, still dressed in his pants, the soft sounds of his feet hitting the stone floor as he moves toward something she cannot see.

Until she felt exactly what it was.

Kael slowly dips her onto the bed, his body hovering over her, his loose sun soaked golden hair ticking her face, it was just nearly as long as hers, but Asch can see the expert barbery done to it to take care of the ends, where hers might be ratty and unkept, Her mother never wanted her to cut her hair, and Asch is more than grateful, a snow dune as white a the sheets he has her pinned into.

His nose tenderly traces her bones jutting from her collarbone, inhaling her skin, eyes closed as if to commit it to memory. Asch shivers, feeling so seen. He is such a handsome thing, chiseled, firm jaw, a beautiful, proud nose. Bow lips that peck little forget-me-nots across her breasts. She gasps, eyes fluttering when his tongue laves across her nipple, the wet, cat-course tongue laving her unable to think as his hands work her sides, running up and down, keeping her calm and warm from the cold outside there door.

Oh-“ Asch sighs, arching into his mouth, making him smirk around her breast. Kael’thas licks a stripe up her to chin, pecking just below her mouth before adjusting, shimming out of the remaining clothes between them. And she cannot see because he moves down, preventing her from seeing anything she wants, and he knows he does it, a coy little turn of his lip as he kisses down her flesh, leaving a hot trail until he kisses her belly, hands finding her thighs.

His face presses between her thighs, harsh, mean nips follow his invasion that make her yelp, but then he buries his tongue in her cunt and they dissolve into wanton, shocked moans hat reach the canopy of the lavish bed. Kael’thas rubs circles into her thighs with his thumbs, deep presses that she cannot take a second to think about, because he ravishes her slit with his unrelenting mouth, sloppy and hungry. He sucks the bud between her thighs, toying with her until its almost painful, then delves back into her quivering hole, wiggling that sinful appendage, making her thrash in the bed, he will not let her get away from his mouth, but does she try.

The pish and pull, the aggression he snarls while he finds all the ways he can own her, he devours the wetness seeping from her cunt with a growl of approval, his fingers join his mouth, stroking evenly inside her walls, rubbing at the coil that tightens in her belly. “Kael- Kael- g-gods-“ Asch cannot find a breath, a moment to return to herself before she’s wailing, pushing into his mouth and trying for any friction. His fingers know what to do and press her full of three while she wiggles again his tongue, desperately wringing out the high for as long as she can.

Asch was exhausted, sinking so deep in the pillowed bed, loving the cool feathers and silks on her naked wet skin. Her eyes droop, fluttering sleepily, Kael’thas chuckles, amused as he bites at her throat for attention, “Tired? That will not do.” He quips, pecking her lips, Asch whines, wiggling uselessly under him, it causes her to brush against the stiff, weeping cock between his legs and it draws her eyes wide.

Kael’thas arches a brow, challenging her with a single look that is all too arrogant, “Ah, I do think my wife likes me.” He says crudely, griding his cock in the gap between her thigh and he folds of her cunt. Asch blushes hotly, huffing at his bad, dirty humor. “I’d like you more if you didn’t say things like that.” Kael’thas gets a bright flicker in his eyes, and grins, “But then I wouldn’t see that face.” He coos, nuzzling her nose with his own. Asch pouts, sucking in a breath at the sudden swipe of his cock between her sopping lips.

“Breathe with me, darling.” He whispers, huddled into her space so close she can taste his soul mingling with her own. She nods rapidly against his forehead, hammering out weak, nervous breaths as she feels him guide his cock toward her opening, “Relax.” He offers another sweet kiss, a distraction as he breeches her. There was a broken noise swallowed by his mouth, the hurt whimper petering out as his tongue invades her mouth, as careful, slow hips ease forward.

Kael’thas does not stop until his hips touch, the root of him hot and heavy inside of her, his balls pressed snugly between their flesh. He lets her go, a sigh of relief escaping his mouth as she struggles on his cock. He was deep inside her, widening her to his shape and size, molded to his frame and meant for no other, as if any other would fit like he has. It was heavy, an oppressive weight in a place she never considered empty, but now she thinks without him she will never been whole again.

It was aching, a small pinch of pain, but Kael’thas was kind and gentle, and sweet- and funny. And she likes the attention he lavishes on her chest again, because it lets her feel the billows of pleasure between her legs while he moves just so. Asch inhales nosily, breathing so much it makes her dizzy ion the plush of her their bed. A lightheaded sort that makes his movements easier to bear, getting increasingly pleasing as the sparks liven into something else, the raw nerve no longer pressed, but caressed.

Kael’thas feels wonderful inside of her, the head of his cock kisses her very womb with tenderness, jolting her with pleasure all the way to her toes, that curl and shake on the bed. “Kael-“ Asch is breathless again, her mouth shaking his name out as he grinds his teeth, eyes squeezed shut. What does it feel like for him? Hot and wet? Tight and perfect? The same in every way she feels him?

Perfect?

His hands grope needily at her thighs, urging her to wrap her legs around his sculped highs, she does and the sound that escapes her when he tilts his hips was utterly unlike her, but Kael’thas is so consumed with it, he makes a steady pace, “Fuck.” He mutters before calming her mouth again. Asch moans into his mouth, fingers wrapping into the hair at the nape of his neck, she clings to him, brings him closer, silently begging to become one whole.

Kael’thas hips pound into her, a wet, rough noise each time he ruts into her. Frantic chasing, desperate to grasp the pressure of release, its ecstasy, its them. She nearly falls hard in love when he gasps out her name so quietly, she could barely hear it over his brutal thrusts, but her heart flutters, “Asch-“

Kael-“ Asch urges, her heart pounds so harshly, he must feel it, carry you only in my heart of hearts.

Asch wants him- wants- wants, wants.

Kael then snarls like a terrifying beast, roaring behind his clenched teeth as he still, his hips slamming firmly once more before his cock twitches violently, spamming inside her and spilling his seed as deep as he could. Asch shakily exhales, her own climax a shuddering roll that warms her bones and makes her feel so tired. She loves the warmth of his skin, the way he crowds her space as he holds himself just high enough his weight is not cumbersome.

She loves he cannot catch his breath, panting in her ear as his cock twitches, it brings weak moans out of his mouth each time, she can feel it with her whole body, until he carries her over and onto his chest. Kae does not remove himself, content to lay there with his cock still stiff inside her. He is tired, spent of any energy left.

She loves how he gets he blankets and pulls them over their cooling bodies for comfort, his hands absently stroking her back, kneading the flesh where the muscles here tight and sire.

Asch loves him.



 

Chapter 193: Renathal Dabbles 2

Summary:

Asch Morningbell/Renathal

We go deep into Vampire heart eyes.

Chapter Text

Asch had always- pathetically carried a ratty, old blanket in her pack, its faded pattern and hand stiches lovingly cared for over the last twenty years. It and a pillow with hardly any feathers left were all she had left of home. It comforts her to have them, even on the ground in a damp cellar like Sinfall, it brings her a tiny amount of peace.

After the event of her embarrassing their prince, Asch drinks less and wallows more. They treat her as a disease, avoiding her, ruthlessly glaring when her presence is obvious to them, Draven’s distaste for her is tangible, having a soulbind with him is harsh. Renathal’s most loyal companion for eons she could not fathom, strapped to an insulting drunk. Still, he tolerates her, for how much longer is the question that drudges her mind when she’s not dulled by anima wine- which is the only supply of anything, lest she leave for Azeroth.

And while she can, it feels like a defeat.

The Accuser has grown tired of her and no longer finds things for her to do, so Asch does the only thing they accept, collecting anima for the cause. Its grunt work in the worst ways, but it keeps her busy, keeps her useful. When she might be shunned from that, well its anyone’s guess.

In dark, quiet moments Asch makes a wonder of any other covenant, strategically it is foolish, but she only answers to herself in that realm, and only Bolvar for results. The fallen king won’t care where she goes so long as progress has been made. The Night Fae tickle her fancy, if only for the excessive drinking- Kyrian seem too justifiably righteous for it. And Maldraxxus stinks like death and decaying flesh. It reminds her too much of Wrath gate- too much of the Undercity siege, and too much of every other battle she’s fought.

While Moonberry wine and uncomplicated relations seem more enticing, it would be cowardly- the painfully obvious kind, and Asch can be a drunk, but not a cowardly drunk.

That would just be pathetic- no matter how this all is already too pathetic; she can’t be that as well.

Readying to storm the Castle has stalled to a crawl, the lack of war effort is stunted by the lack of anima- which continues to be a never-ending battle with the Sire. Sequestered in his castle. Asch is reminded of his smile, of the optimism. Sire Denathrius has everything he could ever want, there was no need of him to leave. The drought, as they called it, affected everywhere, and what they gathered served the needs, there was no surplus to go around. They would starve and this rebellion hosted by the prince would die, and Denathrius would stay sequestered in his castle.

It was bitter on her tongue, all of it was. Asch was no stranger to sleeping in squalor, but disgrace and squalor? It hadn’t been like this since the second war. Asch sits up, wrapped in her ratted, faded blanket, tilting on the edge of sleep, dizzy from drinking and hoping that the silent, dankness of this cellar closet could help her fall into a dreamless sleep before waking and doing it all again.

Light from the crack of the door alarms her, jolts her awake, her eyes don’t focus yet, the wobbly form of something overtakes the entrance. Asch shakes her head harshly- Renathal seems genuinely surprised to see her, as if he hardly expected to find anything in here- there was nothing here.

He’s baffled a moment, staring at her makeshift bed on the hard stone, the single nearly burnt down candle that serves as light when she needed. She stares at him not unlike a deer to a hunter, unsure of what to do, but ready to bolt.

After the moment of shock passes into awkward Renathal eases from the doorway, gripping the handle, his face is twisted in agony, of what kind she cannot say, from seeing her? From the polite part of him that hates to impose no matter the person? Asch swallows, licking her teeth, hoping he would say something, but is sorely disappointed. “Was there something you needed?” Her voice sounds awful, dried out from all the drink. It must have sounded ugly because he recoils his, mouth screws up around his sharp teeth. He’s handsome in the low light, his cheeks framed around soft looking cornsilk hair.

“Did you want me to leave?” It’s been weeks, she must have overstayed her welcome by now.

“No.” He mutters lowly, as if it was painful to do so. Asch swallows’ bile, swaying on the spot, she was almost too drunk to sit up right.

I was right but-“I’m sorry.” Asch says, and his guarded face crumbles, there is a long painful moment she thinks it won’t matter, that the damage is done and Renathal will despise her. The door swings, she readies for the slam, the darkness, the solitude before picking herself up and leaving for good- after at least throwing up in that bucket by his feet. 

To her ever-lasting shock, he shuts the door, leaving only the little frail candle to keep them from total darkness “I have lived longer than your worlds conception, and I will live long after your final death.” He states, gripping the handle, his fist clenched almost painfully tight around the knob, “Yet I’ve become infatuated foolishly and allowed myself to become hurt by a mortal.” He sounds so angry with himself, hisses the words out around his teeth as if they are meant to hurt- him or her, she cannot tell.

“W-Wait- what?” Asch bumbles, blinking wide eyes, she felt too slow to understand, pawing and slipping on the stone wall to get up because he was just too tall like this. “Infatuated.” He snaps, biting at her with his words, “Adoring- charmed- smitten.” He practically snarls, grabbing her upper arms to steady her, “And with a lush.” His words embarrass her, but the warm press of his mouth is a balm to her burnt ego.

“Mhm-“ She still squeaks in his mouth, eyes wide and hazy. Renathal takes, forces his affection as if she wouldn’t accept it. Asch melts, sagging into the wall and his embrace, it feels good, weightless. Renathal consumes her, the aggression of his attack is needy, fulfilling. Venthyr don’t breathe, but he allows it, the gasps she takes are admired, his face pinched just the slightest at the smell of wine on her tongue. “Are you too drunk?” He whispers, his lips brushing her own with each word with intent of his meaning.  

Yes. “No Prince.” Asch murmurs, seeking his mouth, he tilts away just out of her reach and his grip keeps her still. “Renathal.” His command is rather princely. But she makes no jab, more than alarmed and embarrassed of how the sound of it made her feel. A little too much his upbringing and a little too much of her own are at play in her mind. A could be king and a commoner, a commander and his soldier. A vampire and a girl. It was endless, and it makes her ache between her thighs at the thought he, this storybook charming had picked her.

“Yes, you are.” The words draw her back, his face sweet and full of concern, her eyes were faraway, seeing but not quite the little details of his face. Renathal gently releases her, just enough that if she falls under her own power, he could catch her. “Remember this tomorrow.” Renathal says softly, a promise whispered into her skin, leaving her in a sway of his coats.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 194: Renathal Dabbles 3

Summary:

Renathal/Asch Morningbell

Hey there, here's another vampire trashfire.

Enjoy!

Chapter Text

Before she would have wondered what her sins were, but now Asch knows its gluttony, drinking too much, indulging too much. Her head pounds with the reminder, and all it makes her want is another drink to dull it. Remarkable, she stays sober, and if it was a little because of Renathal, then she will settle with that. Consumption was nothing if not a struggle for her own kind- those who were her kind, Sin’dorei, it wasn’t a magic, but it was a vice equally as bad.

Coping was found at the bottom of her bottles, was surviving a sin? After what she had endured, could they truly call her a soul worth judging harshly? Elves never die from old age, could the amount her life lived and weight her heroics against her villainy? Maybe now after all this time one did outweigh the other, and Asch did not like the odds she faced thinking upon just even the last war.

Seeing this world beyond worlds, knowing that there was something after, an end to a beginning, an operation that was made broken by her once comrade, the respected general that fell so far, a thing they must now all fix together, or even her soul will die and know a fate worse than now.

It was all so, belittling to be reduced to one of a hundred thousand, what might Asch become when its finally time? Will she be Kyrian? Or maybe a Necrolord? Warmongering was certainly a skill of hers crafted and honed over decades. Could she ask for her fate?

What would she ask for? What could she ask for?

It felt more and more pathetic to think as the time went on, there wasn’t much of an afterlife now, and it was thrown in her lap to fix it like all things were. One fight after the next, and what did it matter in the end? Her king was lost in the Maw, her Admiral, Jaina. A woman she respected beyond all else, the woman who held her ear, cared for her in equal measure- dare Asch call her the greatest friend she’s ever known. Trapped, after all that work in Kul Tiras, the fights, the hardships, they had bonded fiercely over magic, the hatred for the Horde, and too many dead souls they missed.

Asch’s hands shook without wine to still them, the empty shakes she knows them too be called, already it was a burden to be without, but she endures. The hateful stares and snarls are worse without the dullness of being plastered, and she hates them all the more. Asch wants to scream hell in there faces for being so pompous, but she refrains because Renathal said tomorrow- but he is no where to be found, not in the main hall, not in the underbelly. It must have been a hazy dream, something fake to warm her to bed.

With a heavy, damp, and painful head, she goes about the day with nothing else to do but collect.

This she was once very good at, fetching for masters to earn praise. What a long time ago that had been, when she was an apprentice to an artisan, a squire to a Paladin Knight. What a little silly fool she once was. Now she is old and bitter, and tired. Her bones do not age, but they felt like stale wood under her skin as she moves, swinging and slashing, finding anima in all the cracks no one would think to look. It feels blasphemies to wrench it from there hands, rip it from there withering corpses, but Draven does not interfere, silent in his sentence, watching her brutalise creatures for any scrape of power they might have. Its sickening, a thing she wishes to drown out and forget, because all the horrors come back eventually, sometimes it leaves with sleep, others are more persistent, evil in her mind, gnawing away like ghouls at her flesh. You’ve killed babies, these aren’t so bad. A voice tickles her ear, Asch looks, but there is no one there reaping her sins, expelling them out in the world, it only shames her, but that is the point.

There’s a pull of impatience’s from Draven, and its only then does she realize that its growing dark outside. Her only companion to care that it is, Theotar and Nadjia adore the dark, but that isn’t unique to them only, all denizens become lively as the night drags on.

Asch is annoyed enough to ignore him for an hour or more, until her bones ache and hands no longer can handle a sword without it becoming unwise. Dream or not she should have never listened to it.

Asch carried that little annoyance with the prince until she came to the upper center of Sinfall, full intentions of snubbing Prince Renathal and sleeping in her damp closet.

“Hold- Lady Morningbell!” A voice shouts rather hurried and out of breath. Magus Meridan Krogus of Stormwind, a young man that was too young to have white hair, greyed by the talent. “Krogus.” Asch calls, almost fondly, a quirked smile that’s odd on her face after so many years of bitterness.

“We’ve gained a footing in the castle, will you come?”

Tomorrow will have to wait.

Chapter 195: Renathal Dabbles 4

Summary:

Renathal/ Asch Morningbell

In other news, I cannot be stopped.

*Chapter Warning*
Rape, Drugging, please skip if you'd prefer not to read such content.

Chapter Text

The deafening silence would have driven anyone mad, with only her breath to keep her company, Asch was slowly losing herself in the darkness. Her hands were bound above her head, pulled taut and chained with tight links, aching wrists were bleeding down her arms, coating her in crust of her own life. The sickening tight pull of filth had ebbed away as the layers of dust, dirt and cold sweat painted every inch of her visible skin.

It had been a grave mistake. The error too large for their hubris, Sire Denathrius had bested them easily. Allowing them to get so far, further than anyone had until he alone was left. His overconfidence should have been key, a clue to their demise, but she fought him anyway, and watched as one by one her companions felled. It was surreal, to be one of the last to not be knocked from his arena, Meridan was captured somewhere, as well as a few others, while the rest he deemed unsuitable for whatever plans he had.

The clop of his hooves was unmistakable, the air around his was crisp, full of life. Sire Denathrius was glorious, he had a snide smirk across his face as he regards her after days of leaving her here in his dungeon. “Hello Champion.” He mocks, flicking his fingers toward his faceless guards, they move forward, the clink clink of keys and the screech of her cell doors wound her ears.

“You must be starved.” Asch does anything not to look at him, it feels like another loss, but she won’t satisfy him with the courtesy. “Nourish our champion, darlings.” One clawed hand squeezes her jaw until it pops open, and the other uncorks a bottle of bloody looking liquid. It tastes bitter on her tongue, but it hits her belly with a winding force that has her head swimming and eyes blurry.

It felt wonderful, her arms are released from shackles, they drop and Asch scrambles to hold herself up, but nothing was solid. “I wonder,” Sire Denathrius quips, growing closer but so far away, a hand touches her face, rolls her jaw up, his eyes were so sparkly. Asch paws for him, and the Sire allows it. A deep whine escapes her, scrubbing as close as she could to get into his warm presence.

“You have a name, do you not, champion?” His voice was dripping with honey, Asch nods it feels so heavy, the weight of her head too much for her to bear. Denathrius cradles her chin in one hand, “Asch.” Her tongue feels strange, fat in her mouth. Denathrius smiles.

The castle was so large, but Asch could not tell where he was taking her, it all blacks, red, and heavy fabrics. The halls look all the same, beautiful, and repetitive, it was so blurry, and Denathrius’ arms were so comfortable she’s lulled into his embrace as his heavy hooves carry her toward somewhere.

Hands pulls at her armor, plucking it off as if they were simple petals from a flower, Asch seeks his mouth- missing and mushing her lips to whatever she can reach. Above her he chuckles, slipping her out of the confines of her leathers. The silk bedding felt wonderous against her hot skin. Asch is vaguely aware, knowing only that she’s in a very grandiose room, but the vast bed is all she cares about, spreading out underneath the bulk of his body. Asch tugs at him urgently, her hands squabbling for purchase of his clothes.

“Patience’s pet.” His voice commands her, and all she can do is open her legs and listen. She felt so heavy, lulling in the bed as she tries to watch him through layers of clouded glass, the shape of the master removing bit after bit until gray skin remains.

“Such obedience,” Denathrius coos, the praise washes over her and Asch preens excitedly, gasping when his hands are finally upon her. “You’re dripping darling.” His voice is molten hot upon her skin, laying little kisses up her body as he raises to meet her. Denathrius slots between her legs, a pleasant weight upon her chest, “Ask nicely.” He commands.

“P-Please Pah- Prince.” Asch exhales, wiggling under him. Denathrius pauses, the silence worries her, she had forgotten, “Ren-ah-thal.” She amends because she had foolishly forgotten he had commanded her otherwise. Denathrius perks, his eyes blazing with intent, “Amusing…” He ponders, smirking impishly as he breeches her cunt, his cock stuffed nicely between her sopping lips. Asch with all her power clutches him, clings to his arms and licks whatever her tongue can reach, moaning wildly as he pounds her into the feather bed. Her hips were pinned under his, but she tries arch and squirm, Asch desperately wants to please him.

His name flies from her mouth, a broken mantra Renathal- Renathal- Renathal. He graces her skin with bites, blessing her shoulder with a wound of his teeth. The pleased, rumbling purr as he drinks from her sends a shiver through her entire frame.

Asch comes with a jolt, her legs widen, lock and her eyes blacken around the edges. Her ears grow dull, but her cunt fills with warmth.

Denathrius isn’t finished, cooing with claws down her skin, making little lines of red bloody wells that she licks off his fingers. His cock slips easily into her backside, palms rubbing her sides, “Such a good girl, Asch.” Denathrius whispers, pulling her slowly against the length of his cock, easing into her with even strokes. Asch feels tears slip down her cheeks, it hurts, but he’s so proud of her, she can’t disappoint him. One finger slips into her full cunt, his thumb toying with her sloppy clit while he uses her ass, his growling a roar in her ears until he stills, pumping his seed into her, “Be good for me.” He urges, and she clenches when his cock slips, she wants to be so good for him.

Denathrius stares, a deep well of satisfaction lingering in his breast, he dresses watching her slip into unconsciousness, amused by the events. This little mortal had thought he was Renathal. What a kindness it would be to-

 

Return her.

 

Chapter 196: Darion AU Dabbles 6

Summary:

Darion Mograine/Asch Rosepin

Ha... forgive me! Sorry it’s been a few months, but I bring another chapter.
If anyone wonders, Im just writing a lot for other fandoms, but I haven’t dropped this project, just musing about in another fandom for the moment.
Either way, enjoy!

Chapter Text

Asch dreamt of him again, the kiss she could hardly forget, back on her mind like a sticky treat cloying to the roof of her mouth. Somehow, she missed both. Her mother made them all the time, in all kinds of colors, selling them to their neighbors when she had extra- Asch missed those days.

There’s a strange longing in her chest when Darion looks at her, his face softer than she’d never known it to be, who it was possible of her to know what that would look like was a mystery, but his blazing eyes were soft. She wants more than anything to know what his hand feels like, because its warm in her dream, but she doubts it will be.

She wants it to be real, when she steals glances at him, forced by Tirion to sit with them, but far off enough he’s excluded from conversation. He looks miserable, a fog of frost and fume, arms crossed as he sat heavy on a stripped box. It felt so strange, to be interested in a man that despised her.

Was it wrong? He was dead- wasn’t he? Asch could hardly ask such a thing, Tirion knew, she had told him they kissed, if she asked, he would understand why. And even thinking it embarrassed her severely. Was he a man anymore? Asch sneaks another glance toward him, she’s able to see the tip of his fine nose, the barest hint of his beard. It makes her belly warm and face pink- it shouldn’t. But he was handsome, mother always admired human men. Father thought it was amusing, brutish, young pups, darling. She can hear her father say to her mother when her sight lingers too long.

The appeal her mother always spoke about. Perhaps there was strange truth to it, Vereesa had children with a human husband.

Darion was no longer human.

She should be sickened, he was no man, but a corpse raised into service, no better than the shambling horrors he used as pets. She dares one more glance, and his eyes are harsh and stuck upon her. Asch jolts as if struck, her eyes darting away, he knows that she was looking at him, it was impossible to lie, there was nothing else in his direction, not a cobweb or glint of candlelight.

Asch clutches her dress, its ratted thread and grimy surface of dirt rubbing her fingers raw. Tirion is looking at her, concern in his brow. Asch manages an awkward smile, a fake one on her face she hates, he offers one, small in return, “You seem tired.” He says, watching her closely, as if he had already deduced what sat heavily on her mind. It was a bad secret, but one he had known about for some time. With hawkish eyes and wisdom beyond years, he could have guessed it even before she spoke the truth aloud to him. “A little,” Asch forces the words from her mouth, too full of cotton. Darion blackened in his little huddle by the door, far from the fire, but just close enough that she could see the fire illuminating his snarled lip and hiked shoulders.

“Would you like an escort to your room?” Tirion asks, perking her attention once more, he was thoughtful, always far too thoughtful. “Yes, t-thank you.” Asch mutters, others tell her goodnight, but she can barely muster the words from her mouth as Tirion takes her arm in his and they begin the walk. Eyes she knows all too well are pinned to her back, digging little daggers into her flesh.

“I had wanted to ask something of you.” Tirion whispers, his beard tickling her hair, making her itch at the starchy friction, it feels good, as though nothing had changed, it was so normal an irritation she had almost forgotten their word was frozen over with evil unknown.

“You did?” Asch says, feeling less terror as they pass into the halls with beaten rugs lining the floors and braziers lit for warmth and light, one could almost mistake it for day. “Yes I…” Tirion pauses. His jaw working against her head, chewing on his question before managing to speak it. “When we leave for Outland I… wanted…” Tirion shrinks awkwardly, stiff as he pauses at her room, like he’d forgotten the original purpose. “I have no wife; I have no son. I wanted someone to spend the end of my days with.” His smile, now that she looks at him properly, is pained, scared. Asch chokes in fear, the wet parchment of walls closing in her fragile heart bursting around the seams. Tirion’s eyes shimmer, flecks of gold, silver, fire lighting up his wise face. “I make no plans to go anywhere child.” He promises, shoving the day she wishes to never see come away from her thoughts. Tirion wipes away her tears with his bare hand, cradling her cheek in his hand, “Do this old man a favour?” His mouth pulls into a joyful smile, one that reminds her of her own father, and it hurts only a little.

Asch blinks the pearls from her vision, lip still quivering, but she nods, and nods so fast it knocks her brain around sore. “I don’t know what h-happened t-to my father.” She states sadly, but he doesn’t let her think of all the ways he could have died or could be living. “I don’t know what’s happened to my son.” He snorts, as though it was funny.

Asch admires him a moment longer, before wrapping her arms around his middle and squeezing herself to his being. Tirion hugs her fiercely, its almost threatening in a way he might never let her go, but it is just the kind she always could count on from him.

“Now, now.” He whispers, stroking her hair, “Get to rest, we leave tomorrow.”

 

Leaving, it had sounded so strange. Asch had never left this place, not as though there was many places she could go. Asch hadn’t even left Dalaran before this, and now she had seen half the world to get here. Tirion is joyous, watching Khadgar gather up the supplies and speak fervently with Rhonin, the two a pair in everyway Asch was too young.

Asch cradles Galadin in a wrap against her belly while they gather the remains of their bags and cargo, Khadgar insisting they take anything and everything they can in the castle. The bread and trade goods from Silvermoon accompanied a few rugs and bed sheets. Asch had not wanted to be greedy, but Khadgar insisted she at least take something to remember this place, it was a sick reminder that she may never see Azeroth again, so the least she takes is and old and dusty painting of some landscape. It was a wide-open field with a few reeds and small hills, Tirion’s best guess was Westfall before the dust had come, but it was hard to tell now.

“Rhonin!” Asch calls, waving him over, “Ready?” Darion was sat still behind them with Iydallus holding much of their goods she could feel his gaze upon her back, as if he was trying to decipher something in his mind, it unnerved her, but she keeps her eyes upon Rhonin. Rhonin pauses, his face turning sour suddenly. He whispers something to Khadgar before approaching with a strange pain across his face.

“Asch I-“ Rhonin’s lips twitch, Tirion cuts him short, “You are not coming with us.” It was no question, but Rhonin nods, nonetheless. A jerked gasp escapes Asch, “But what about Galadin?!” She demands, “What about you?! Why would you stay?!” The baby stirs, huffing upset at the shrill in her voice. Rhonin shrinks, rubbing his arm, “I had hoped to speak to you before it grew too late…” He flounders, eyes watching the floor, as a child caught in a lie. “I’m staying, to fight. A-And I… want you to care for Galadin.”

“F-Fight? Fight what?! You’ll die! I’m not his mother!” Asch insists, her ears pin to her hair, nervous shakes overtake her hands, and she is at least glad Galadin was stuck to her chest, or she might have dropped him. “But you can be, you can be better than anything I could give him.” Rhonin proclaims, reaching for her, but falling short as Asch presses away, tears of betrayal welling in her eyes. Galadin was not her own, she was but a child herself, in his mind he must know that, but like all men- they so cruel and rude. Like all men, he does not notice, wants to fight the unwinnable battles, be brave, be reckless, because anything was better than being at home.

“You’ll die.” Asch hisses, unforgivingly, her mind racing as Khadgar waits for nothing, conjuring the portal before them, faster than she can argue.

“Maybe.” He smiles, watching it erupt beautiful and blue in the dark space, “I’ll come and get you when we win.” Asch scoffs around tears, Tirion clenches his jaw, drawing an arm around her to drag her, he knows her better, knows she’ll argue with him until the portal was long gone. “You coward.” Tirion presses out, glaring at him with no flame. Rhonin laughs through tears of his own, “I promise!”

It’s the last thing she hears, then the strange static of the portal overtakes her head, making her vision blur and jar all her senses. It was warm here, the light breeze not a threat of winter. The chimes of the Naaru A’dal flutters around her, and it feels safe. The wash of clam, of loving embrace, the Naaru titters in her mind, Welcoming her to the City of Shattrath. It was beautiful here, made of mute colors and smells of rain, it was peace that she had not know for the longest time, Asch can sorely remember what fresh rain could smell like, only the numb icy pain of snow freezing her nostrils held in recent mind.

It was bustling with people. With life long lost to her own realm. Others have come. The Naaru whispers, They await you in the Courtyards. Darion lingers close behind them, his plate chilling her skin, a cold spot, a lingering ghost among the living not yet passed on. Asch shivers, clinging onto Tirion as he leads them along. Iydallus hooves clops are booms behind them, huge echoes that fill the wide cavern of space.

No one stops them, none question his being, as though they were simple travellers coming and going. Some offer a glance of pity, news would have spread, Khadgar had sent people here long before them, how long she had never thought to ask, but as they leave the chimes of the Naaru, they are greeted by a woman who stands alone.

Skin a moon touched purple, wearing stitched furs of blacks and yellows, hair combed back and high upon her head, exposing long proud ears. A Kal’dorei!

Tirion squints, eying the woman long and hard, as if trying to place a memory of her. She smiles at them, approaching without a sound to her steps, “Greetings, I had wondered when another group would come through.” She speaks with elegance, the age and kindness all Kal’dorei possess. “I am Tyrande Whisperwind, I shall be your guide.”

A soft hum of interest leaves Tirion, catching onto some knowledge he once had now of new use. “Well met,” he says first, “I am Tirion Fordring, these are my companions, Darion Mograine, Asch Rosepin, Bolvar Fordragon, and little Galadin.” Tyrande examines them with a critical eye, her mark upon Darion nose sniffling the air like a rabbit, curious and cautious, “A Freed Knight.” She quips with distrust, head tilted and raised high. “What an Interesting party you make. Shall I see more tomorrow?”

Tirion puffs out a large breath, “Perhaps, Varian Wrynn? And his companions they chose not to travel with us this time.” Tyrande nods curtly, rolling her shoulders, “Storied names, in the least, come I shall show you the city.”

As they begin to walk more and more of familiar races and people begin to arise, “This distract is where some of the many saviours live.” She offers, waving her hand for them to follow, showing off the wonders of the city. “They have spare little room, and without gold the Sha’tar cannot offer you permanent residence.”

“What are we to do, then?” Tirion asks, voice tight and irritated. Tyrande smiles graciously, she must have had to answer such questions a dozen of times before their arrival. “The Sha’tar aren’t without reason, any land outside the city is free to those who wish it. My husband and I live beyond the city gates with a community of our kind and even some of yours.”

Tyrande pauses at the great gates of the city, the guards upon seeing their arrival march to open the wide stone looking doors, “You are welcome to join our village. So long as you a have trade to apply and abide by the laws of Azeroth.”

“I know spare little of building, but I am decent with a forge.” Tirion offers, Tyrande beams at his words, her ears perking up like Asch’s own. “We are in need of smiths, if you can help provide weapons for the hunters and repairs to the stonemasons tools, they will trade their labor to help with such things.”

Tyrande draws her moon eyes toward Asch, awaiting something from her. Asch swallows, her throat pinched closed, “I sense you have none of the same skill.” She laughs, it brings little ease. Asch had spare nothing to offer, no trade to apply as the men could, no skill with fire or hammers or weaponry. “Some skill with a needle a thread.” Tirion chuckles, petting her back soothingly. With all the studies of magic and life, she found little time for anything else but perfecting that craft. “Baking!” Asch suddenly blurts, “I... I can bake.” Mother…

Tyrande smiles softly down upon her, the height of the Kal’dorei dwarfing even Tirion. “That will do.”

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 197: Wrathion Dabbles 2

Summary:

Wrathion/Asch Silversong

So who ready for this unhinged shit?

Idk where this came from but I suddenly got this dumb plot and it wouldn't leave me alone, so enjoy the setup and get ready for Dragonflight, you brought me back, you bastard. Happy patch btw! I was playing so much and I'm really enjoying it! Can't wait for the actual expansion launch! For now enjoy Wrathion simping for pretty lady.

Chapter Text

Asch was a meek, pliable little thing, that listened to his command without much trouble. She was nervous in the absolute dark, but there was no proper way out of her haven he could see without destroying it, exposing his grandfather’s realm to the open world. Her feet were bare and uneasy on the stone, bumping into him and jumping as if he was consumed by wildfire, stammering apologies he felt were beaten into her.

The Drogbar watch him emerge, busy with staring more than with their own work. Wrathion has the courage to stare into their beaded eyes, making them pull away from their ogling of her. He felt strange, a timid little sheep corralled by a dragon. Asch had no heat, no fire; her scraps of clothes couldn’t insolate her flesh like he could.

Wrathion narrows his eyes, staring at the back of her head. Like he could. That’s the kind of thought that led to the wrong places, like the places that made him her master.

She had called him that, hadn’t she?

Wrathion had shepherded her toward the entrance to his father’s grand cavern, the only exit a mortal could leave from safely before it had dawned upon him. Where exactly was he to take her?

With him?

No. No, that couldn’t do.

Could it?

Wrathion sighs gently, before he can decide it better to leave her here, he takes gentle hold of her elbow, grasping it in his palm and surprising her. From his coat he fishes a hearthstone, clutching it within is hand, watching as its dull glow grows with each second before they vanish from his father’s home for the last time.

Asch sways on her unsteady legs, gasping in shock, “This is my den.” Wrathion supplies in a kinder voice that might have unsettled him if not for how it seemed to calm the shake so deep in her bones. His den was nothing fantastical, it was a simple place large enough for his draconic form, red rock clawed and carved open in the slit of a forgotten mountain in the middle of nowhere.

It had a bed of furs mostly forgotten by him, left there in case he had reason to wear his human visage, a little pond of water, much like Asch’s own, with a little fall of water and a natural drainage to the outside. It was a place of little consequence, with flora vast enough to sustain a small family if allowed to flourish and a fauna that Wrathion himself maintained. Nothing bigger than a buck threatened the island by his own design. It was ideal for what he required, though he could admit it was little more than an empty nest, his quests and personal adventures left it mostly vacant.

Asch peers at the surroundings, her pinkish eyes wafting a sort of strange fog. Wrathion turns and squints at her. Asch jerks as he grasps her face in his hands, his claws jerking her neck up toward the light. “Stay very still.” He commands through the hiss of his sharp teeth. Asch shakes despite it. Wrathion sniffles her face, glaring at the magic clinging to her strange eyes.

She didn’t like looking at him, but he gives little choice. “Sulfur-“ It stinks of strange. Wrathion steeples the points of his claws against her face, humming low and soft, “A moment, my lady.” He husks in his deep voice. Asch stumbles forward as he lets her go, catching herself before flying into the floor.

Wrathion rummages through his cache of vials, alchemist works, and muses of the mostly mad until he gathers up the ingredients he needs. In a mortar, he mashes deadwood root, frog bone, the essence of dragon breath- how funny, a few other hard-to-obtain things like fire lord fuel and oil of a banshee before he’s satisfied with the color and thickness.

“Come here.” He calls, listening to the quick little feet on his stone floor. Wrathion swings, jerking his arm and slathers her in the vicious fluid before she can attempt to flinch away. She does anyway, but the sickly green liquid is all over her skin.

Asch yelps, dropping to the floor as he observes, her skin quakes, rolling like waves. The funny little fog of pink fades from her face, but the color remains. “Ah-I…” She moans in pain, writhing against the cold floor. “My lady?” He coos cheekily, a smug little smirk of victory plastered across his face.

“Where… am I?” Asch mutters, caressing her surely sore head, jumping in fright as she feels the horns that pull up from her pretty head. She screams, scrambling back, “Calm-“ He tries, but it falls on deaf ears. Asch clutches, tugs at the steely roots, tears fat in her eyes, “What- what is this?!” She cries in horror, “What have you done?”

Wrathion sighs, taking action, and wrangles her arms, grabbing her hands to ground her to something. “What is your name?” He asks, forcing her still. “Asch Silversong- my father is Lord Silversong and if you do not unhand me, I will have you flogged!” Her bitter, commanding tone makes a chuckle burst from his chest. Asch yanks her hands, attempting to free herself from him.

“My lady Silversong what do you remember?” Her curious little face is sweet, the frown making her all the more kissable, Wrathion tamps down that urge. “I remember Lord Infarian was to teach me magic so that I may become a spellblade!” She’s petulant, and entitled. So was he.

“Lord Infarian is long dead my lady, and I fear so are you,” Wrathion says, Asch frowns viciously at him, her little elven sharp teeth exposed with the curl of her lip. “Let me show you.” With no permission, and petulance of his own, Wrathion jabs the heel of his palm into her forehead, feeling the cool scales that litter her skin.

Her eyes blank, a neat little trick he picked up from the timelords of the bronze flight. Wrathion catches her before she falls, amused and not for the last time, concerned. Grandfather was known to coax victims into his web of lies with the things they want most, the easiest targets often the most rewarding. The poor girl from a wealthy house must have been one of several experiments – but for what reason Wrathion could only make muses of.

Grandfather was mad after all, his best assumption was that this girl was meant as a gift to him, her mind harnessed and dormant in a fog of spells, not so easily undone- to someone who did not know, of course.

Asch gasps lively, nearly smacking him in the head with her own, her breath quick and useless, “Calm,” He orders again, this time she listens, growing limp in his hands, “Its… It’s been two hundred years.” She mutters in horror, Wrathion grunts, lip twitching in distress. “What has been done to me?!” Her voice is soft and sober, less of the little girl she started as Wrathion flicks his wrist, conjuring a seeing glass of metal.

Asch pulls from his embrace, clambering to the solid magic, hands clinging to the shimmering soot horns before crawling down her face to the scales prickling her skin. “I suspect you are some kind of failed experiment of my grandfathers.” Her nails try to poke out the pink in her eyes and Wrathion swats her hands from the action. Tears start dribbling down her face, and a sob erupts from her mouth.

“Where’s my father?” She cries, searching his face, Wrathion feels his chest tighten, “That I cannot say, but I can help. Where did you live?” Wrathion stands, offering his hand. Asch does not take it as she swipes her face of forlorn tears, sobering herself quickly, a shadow of the lady he first had in his clutches.

“Winterspring- He was a lodge ranger.” Her voice is cold and scared. Wrathion ignores it for his own sake, “I will conjure us a portal- but you might want for better clothes.” Wrathion flutters his open hand, materializing a folded swath of black clothing. Asch looks upon herself, an indignant noise escapes her throat.

Wrathion huffs a laugh and looks away, she was quite fun like this.

“I do not wear dresses.” She snarls, Wrathion turns his gaze over his shoulder, peaking at her. The silk black dress clings to her hips and chest, the bell sleeves hiding her hands and pooling into the floor, “Or fucking slippers.”

Wrathion cocks a brow, “You said you were a lord’s daughter.”

Asch growls, flicking her long silver hair over her shoulder, corralling it into a low-hanging knot at her waist with a leather cord. “I was a ranger; I was meant to be a spellblade- the first in our faction!”

“And that faction was?” Wrathion flicks his fingers, beginning to summon the porta before them. “The kings! W-What...” She pauses, glaring hatefully at the blueish swirls before her, “Who is king now?”

“Anduin Llane Wrynn, son of Varian-“ Wrathion feels the magic fizzle and liven before them, taking its own life without his aid, “I know none of them. Landan?”

“Ah, a few generations of kings have lived and died after him.” Wrathion gestures her forward, watching the sway of her hips as she fades into the portal. “Wonderful.” She hisses in distaste, her leg raising as the rest of her sinks in the snow. “The dress is pretty?” He attempts, as her ire is aimed at him, her cheeks already turning pink from the wind.

“I know these lands.” She ignores him, aiming her glare forward into the Snowblind, “This way.” Despite the cold, she is in no hurry, following a meticulous mortal path he cannot see. “Who enslaved me?” She asks, making a trench in the snow with her well-fitted dress. “My grandfather, Neltharion. He was Lord of the Black flight, and the destroyer of this world.”

“Yes, I saw through your strange magic.” She says, shoving at some branches, chittering from the cold, “Why did he leave me?” She calls to him, “Why did he leave me to you? And why would you save me from… that fate?”

Wrathion had many answers, some he could not say, “A failure is a failure.” He says first, “Perhaps he thought he could make something of you. Many of my kind hold consorts of yours.” He shrugs, licking the cold from his lips as it spits snowflakes at him. “You… are a person.” He says, there is no fun in fucking a slave. Asch’s pretty nose scrunches “Make something- I am not going to be anything to you.” She bites. Wrathion smirks at the irritated twitch her pointed ear makes.

“A consort, not just a anything.” He corrects, flashing his sharp teeth. She doesn’t even bother to look back at him, “I will return to being a ranger, and put you and this behind me.” Oh, if only he could be put behind her. Wrathion purrs at her tone.

“Cold as the frost, my sweet lady.” He compliments, licking his teeth. Asch shoves through another heavy brush of trees, gasping the crisp, lung-burning air, “It’s gone.” Asch grieves, collapsing into the mound of snow. Wrathion pulls the branches away, pushing toward her, before lay a wreckage of long burned buildings, what once might have been a lodge is a harrowed frame of brittle logs and black char.

No-“ her voice is gut wrenching, tugging his heart into sorrow, the frozen air keeping him at bay as she stumbles into snow toward the rubble. “Father!” She yells, crying out into the wind. Wrathion’s shoulders slump, watching her search frantically for something, her black blot vanishing in the build-up of snow dunes.

A devastated howl shakes the snow from the trees, launching him into action, Wrathion clambers through the frame, in the cold, dark space she lies curled into a dedicated, wild stripped corpse. All that remains is bone and bits of weather-chewed cloth. “Daddy-“ She warbles, sniveling over the snow-bleached bones.

There was a golden pin between the ribs, fallen through to the floor. It was a simple bow and arrow pounded into shape with expert hands. Wrathion hangs his head. It had been two hundred years, he couldn’t muster the words, knowing they would only hurt. “I left him- he was alone.” She blubbers, her tears freeze over his skull, sticking frozen to the smooth plain of what remained of his forehead.

“It’s like falling asleep.” It suffers out of his mouth, forcing himself to say it. Asch cries into her cold hands, “Let us put him to rest.” He says soft as wind.

Bones and all are buried in a grave marked with a black pillar, his daughter sobbing over the mound years late and fresh mourning. Wrathion feels an intruder, a disturber, something that should not remain.

“Teach me.” Asch’s voice is raw, “I left him to learn. Teach me.”

Wrathion swallows, fuck Ebyssian and his trinkets.

 

 

 

 

Chapter 198: Wrathion ABO dabbles 1

Summary:

Wrathion/Asch Wrynn

So who asked for Wrathion Omegaverse? Me. I did. And I provided. Please enjoy this purely selfish take. :)) Takes place right after SL, before the five? Three years? Gap, So Anduin isn't around and has left his little sister to hold the kingdom together and Wrathion is a Simp fuckboi that wants to smash- joking aside, I think you guys will like what I've got planned.
They also made this whole thing weird with the time bullshit we went slower? In SL? Or is perceived time differently- we're ignoring that SON- or it can be set DURING SL since Anduin was gone anyway and they couldn't return, whatever works /shrug.
So enjoy! (Say thank you to Grammarly for making this readable.)

Chapter Text

 

When the words; the king is gone left Genn Graymane’s mouth the world settled into a pinhole, and the shadows became long and fuzzy in her eyes, the king is gone, her brother is gone- Alpha is gone. Anduin had been alpha since he was alpha, since Pandaria and their little pledge in the woods while they were running away from their detail. Ever since she wasn’t one and could never have one.

“Asch.” Genn nudges her hand gently, his voice was as sad and as hollow as she felt inside, “You are the-“

Don’t- I don’t want it!” Asch shoves at his hands, shaking her head. Genn sighs, his lips working, “Leave us.” Fretting nobles pipe up angrily, vying for the power gap. Genn’s growl brokers no argument, his Alpha snarling resonating through the stone, breaking her composure, making her cry.

Anduin wouldn’t have let this happen; Anduin wasn’t here.

Genn sits heavily, his hand open, an invitation she would not take. Mathias Shaw leans toward the entrance of the council chambers, his face struck and lip stiff. Everyone was swimming in scents of grief. Mathias was honey-sweet mill mead, more another man than his own. Mathias all her life smelt clean, wiped of any kind of recognizable stench. Without Flynn Fairwind he would still- but Mathias was on vacation.

Genn is old leather, oil that clings to the grooves in her fingers, “It’s you.” He says, “If Anduin is gone someone must lead.” He insists, thrusting the duty upon her. Asch shakes her head, “I’m not an Alpha-“ It’s her last, best effort. Genn reaches for her face, and cresses the silver hair from her cheek, threading it behind her ear, “They don’t need to know.”  

It bothers her, he’s so confident in her, so assured. You are a Wrynn. You are made to rule.

Three men exactly know the truth, Genn, Mathias, and Anduin. And one dragon-  

Wrathion wasn’t important.

This is important, the throne, the lies. Asch looks upon the faces of the noble houses, Genn proclaims her Regent lady of the realm. The Beta Queen of the Alliance. Anduin never wore a crown, it’s a heavy burden that she is not fit to have, but he left it to her as though he meant for her to have it. She wishes he would have said something- anything to guide her direction, but his absence burnt a bright hole, leaving her chest empty and sad.

“I can still smell you.” Wrathion supplies, seated comfortably in his usually vacant chair. Advisor. Such a hollow title, what did he advise? Anduin kept him around because they had been friends. “Still your tongue-! Idiot!” Genn is not a man for panic, but he does then, his head a swivel frantic thing mounted on his neck. Wrathion peers a lazy eye toward the doors, a bored expression on his long, handsome face. “You can too, can’t you wolf king?” Wrathion was so petulant, “Feed her better swill or sit closer.” He grits through his sharp teeth, tempered with heat. “The SI:7 will look into it.” Mathias bites, barely containing a snarl. Asch’s head begins to pound with all the posturing. Mathias slumps sideways in his seat, eying the Advisor.

“Perfect.” Wrathion grumbles, “Make her stink like honey sickness. That won’t draw attention.” He draws it out, making the dangle as he’s always liked, “Of course, if you want rumors that your spymaster beds you, my Queen.” He plays with her title as if it is no real thing.

Asch issues a soft sigh, closing her eyes “He is my man, Advisor.” She huffs, glaring thinly at his staggering eyes. “It would make sense to smell of him.” Pointless Alpha arguing. “Your man?” He scoffs in disbelief, tipping in the veil of amused and angry. Asch raises her head like an Alpha, she was Queen damn him. “Anduin intrusted Ser Mathias with his safety, and mine own. Did you question Anduin like this?”

She hates talking about him, because it hurts, and she misses him more than any man in this room. “He was an Alpha. I did not have to.” Wrathion shrugs. Asch chews her cheek, fuming. “I thank you then, Advisor- for your wise council.” She’s bitterly spitting the words from her mouth; she is not sure if it is the Omega that wants to please him or the Queen who wants him to be silent.

“Asch?” Genn prods for attention, a soft and warm hand upon her own, “What say you to lady Proudmoore’s proposal?” None of them defend her against him.

Asch swiftly steals her hand from under his, kneading her brow, no wonder Anduin left. It was harsh and an unfair thought, she knows why, but can’t help the bitter little thoughts that pass her by. “Proposals-“ she sighs heavily, flicking her fingers in dismay, “Auntie isn’t asking me, she’s placating her own courts.” Asch falls back, staring at the mound of work before her, in peace times it seemed to pile up, one noble asking for more things, another disputing the last, and a third worried if the war is well and truly over.

“They wanted Anduin. They won’t be happy with me.” Asch grumbles, hearing the pity sigh beside her from the old wolf. “They want the sovereign.” He says, “The Horde has shown good faith. Lor’themar in the least has a good head on his shoulders.” A year. They’ve had peace for a single year.

“You want me to stand with them and reaffirm a peace I never fought for?” She scoffs the very idea, “It will be the biggest insult they’ve seen yet.”

“Utter defeat is their insult, one your brother handed to them without much effort.” Wrathion hums as if he has anything to add. “Baine Bloodhoof has a like for you both, as does Thrall.” Genn adds, unhelpfully. “When did you start playing nice?” Asch accuses, needling him with her sharp eyes. Genn puffs, his cheeks expanding slightly with the breath. “When that fucking Banshee whore was sent into the Hell maw.”

“You need to go, you know this,” Mathias murmurs softly into her ear, much alike what he did with Anduin, “I know that- I’d still like to argue.” Asch says, Mathias sounds as if he cracks a smile, “You’re the one wasting your own time, your majesty.”

Alpha’s- all around her were Alpha’s. Her own guards, her own family. Not one of them knew, not one was like her. None of them. She would be surrounded by strong-headed and stubborn Alpha’s for two weeks. There were two other betas- not including her, Gelbin Mekkatorque and Rokhan- and she heard it was only because they could find no one else evenly capable as him.

Even a metaled warrior wasn’t good enough unless he was Alpha too.

“You should stand with me,” Wrathion’s smooth voice carries her from her troubling thoughts. “What?” She blurts, half hearing him, too focused on the parchment in front of her she’s read three times, “You should stand with me.” He repeats, irritation tickling his voice, “Stinking like a dragon is less conspicuous than stinking of Alpha.”

Asch acts as if his words are of little consequence, humming and pretending to read, “You’re an Alpha.” She reminds.

“Put it down, I know you aren’t reading it.” He demands with a hint of snapping patience. Asch flicks it onto the messy desk, Anduin’s desk. She hates this office. “I’m the Queen. I can smell how I like.” What an idiotic argument. “We already settled this- what do you want?” Because he always wants something, and she’s too busy for his foolish runaround games.

“He’s an unclaimed Alpha.” Wrathion reasons, Asch eyes him tiredly, rolling her gaze back to her- his desk, “You’re an unclaimed Alpha.”

Asch.” He warns- for what?

“I’m your Queen.” She bites. Wrathion bares his teeth, “No, you aren’t.”

“While you stand in my brother’s kingdom and call yourself advisor, yes, I am.” She hisses, it’s not as deep or as threatening, and does not put him on edge as it does her. “And he isn’t.”

“Isn’t what?” He growls lowly, and it almost gets her to her knees, but she is Queen. “Shaw. Unclaimed. He isn’t.” Wrathion’s face twitches, it doesn’t soothe the simmering fury, it bothers the Omega, and displeases the Queen. “Stand with me.” He commands, forcefully. She wants to give in to the tone, quell his rage and make it stop.

“You’re jealous,” She chooses to snicker in his face because that’s what an Alpha would do.

And she knows it is because it enflames him, makes his shoulders tense around his ears, and makes his lip pull from his teeth. She should fear it- fear him, with the way he shoves into the room, clapping the doors behind him- the guards were just beyond two sets of doors, behind the ones he closed and beyond the bedchamber, she could yell for them- she could do it now.

“I don’t want him fucking touching you!” The sound that rips from his chest isn’t human, it’s guttural, more than any mortal Alpha could muster. Her heart patters for a whole other reason, his advance clouds her space, he’s in her face, baring down like an enemy, with his snarled face and rageful scent souring her nose. “Why?” Her voice is so little, proper to an Omega.

Because I want to!” Wrathion yanks her to his breast, his lips hot and fast when they connect with her own, consuming her like the Alpha has the rights to it. Asch lets him- of course, she does because he’s a tide, he’s a blaze. He’s everything she’s wanted for as a little girl.

Not this crown, not this life, just an Alpha, just simple.

Asch bends her neck, her numb mouth making its mark, moving toward his deluge, humming in his mouth as he opens her lips with his tongue, torturing her with his onslaught. Wrathion pulls away, breathing heavily with a scorching lust in his eyes. A trail of spittle connects them until its sags and hits her in the chin, His gaze darts down and light help her- he licks it from her face like the animal he is.

You’ll stand with me.” He does not ask.

Chapter 199: Wrathion ABO Dabbles 2

Summary:

Hi! Happy expac day! Noting I'm posting will spoil the game's story! Though I will say that eventually, I mean to go into Dragonflight as I have an idea for Wrathion that'll take me there!
I think I really nailed Wrathion (lol)
for now, enjoy the game day and enjoy chapter!

Chapter Text

Mathias knew he was a part of some plot, he was not amused with her for it, but he stood as any long servant of the crown would, at his Queen’s behest, holding her arm in his own as her personal escort.

“What have you wrapped me into?” He mutters deathly quietly, sometimes it was difficult to hear him, Asch grins softly, leaning her head into his shoulder to feign innocence, it obscured her face enough he couldn’t read it all over her pink cheeks and glances toward the stewing Black Prince.

His ire was a stench, a fog that filled the air like poison, the guards gave him a wide berth, too sick with the smell to attempt anything closer. “Flynn isn’t going to like this.” He beseeches, pulling right at her heartstrings. Asch loves Flynn.

“He would encourage it.” Asch assures, Mathias perks slightly, “Ah, so you are doing something.” He says, “Does it have something to do with your dragon?”

Asch’s face fouls immediately, “He isn’t my anything.”

“That isn’t what he seems to think.” Mathias wisely points, bumping her head with his own in a fatherly manner, making her lift it from his shoulder- he reminds her sometimes of hers- oh father I miss you. “He can think what he likes but doesn’t make it true.” She flares, Mathias chuckles, and his borrowed scent fills her nose.

“Bring Flynn to Stormwind, I miss him.” She says, ignoring the subject, but Mathias is a kitten with a yarn- unable to let things lie until unraveled until it’s to his own satisfaction. “He’ll do what he wishes too, that one. I implore you not to play with him.” In which way? She nearly asks, but it’s no fun any longer.

“He wouldn’t do anything in public.” She’s trying to convince herself, and Mathias has no confidence in her statement. “In public? Perhaps not. In private…” He goes weary of the company, stooping to whisper a hair above silent, “You are a Beta Queen. That cannot be compromised.”

Asch swallows, worrying her lip between her teeth, “If I wasn’t?” She utters, not as quiet- she’ll never be as quiet as him. Mathias humors her, “You’ll be married off before you even know the groom’s name.” It was dark, unsettling her belly. “W-Wouldn’t they understand? You do.” She hopes, blindly, that he really and truly does.

“What I understand- what I know, does not matter. They want for an Alpha. They’ve settled for a Beta- and they will riot with an Omega. Your father hid this for that reason.” Asch hates to speak of it, hiding in the forgiving shadow of her Alpha brother, as no more than a Beta girl. Father had done his best by her, shielding her from a world cruel enough that would have her married at three and ten when she began to bleed and leak from between her legs a week each of every month.

I want you to find a good man, a safe man- one that will love you, then when it is done you no longer have to hide.

Father had been wrong, her shields were gone, he dead and Anduin missing, left alone to fend for herself.

“Speak of it no more.” Mathias urges, forcing her to bury herself again, “And keep away from him.”

“He is my advisor.” She attempts, but his hard eyes are unforgiving, she relents with a meek sigh, nodding in dismay, “Chin up, and drink more of the potions we provided, we have Horde to meet.”

Aunt Jaina was no paragon of peace, but she was the host of this summit. She and Baine Bloodhoof have ships sailed and docked in the sea, eyeing each other like wolves awaiting feast. They sail to the wreckage of what was once Theramore. They would reaffirm their peace in the blast crater of the once beautiful port town and continue to Dalaran to seek respite and thoughtfulness- so many places of atrocities, they had a litter to pick from, but Jaina remains poetic, A site of her ruin, and the site of theirs. And lastly, to carve out the next three- extended from two, they would make haste to Pandaria.

No weapons were allowed, floors were soaked in magic-dampening fields, and anyone caught causing issue would be dealt with to the highest order. It was exhausting.

The ships begin to dock on uneven ground, planks provide a wobbly descent that Mathias- aware of the dragon’s hateful ire, still helps her down into the somewhat solid ground, grasping her waist in a gentlemanly fashion none else seem to take offense with.

They were few, she, the High Queen, Genn her worrisome old wolf king, and Geblin, in all his eccentric glory. Wrathion is pathetic in the shadows, trailing in their wake like an omen of ill-matched proportion. The rest were lucky to join the tour later in its leg. The Horde has equal numbers, Baine with his bright face, Lor’themar with stern brow and large shoulders, and Gazlowe.

Alpha’s, far too many Alpha’s. Asch muses quietly as she roams down the rocks in a dress to formal for this weather. White as a wedding dress and just as long. Beaded yellow from breast to belly in little patterns of leaves and vines. Her train is already wet and dirty from the muddy ground, her slippers near to sticking in the quicksand muck beneath her.

The bell of her sleeves were dragging down her arms and the metalwork of her shoulders made her hot in the sun. She felt foolish, not a single other present was dressed so formally, Lor’themar in leathers from the sea travel and Baine in his simple clothe and skins.

“High Queen.” Lor’themar has an aged voice, rough as he looks and just as dashing. He bows deeply enough his high tail slaps to one side. Summer wine and steel, a sweet and sharp taste on her tongue, as tangible as his handsome face. “Regent Lord.” She all but giggles like a girl as he comes to take her hand and kiss it with all the elegance of a gentleman.

“I mourn for your missing King.” He offers, sullenly. “And you your brother.” Her heart patters in her chest, his eyes were dazzling, so captivating she forgets herself and barely finds her tongue to respond. “Thank you- I miss him dearly, as do my people.”

He smiles softly, extending it to her so that she might have some joy. Elves were too… pretty for their own good. “Baine,” she tears herself away from him, it was a most difficult thing to do. Big, sweet-smelling Alpha’s, they should know how rude they are for just existing.

Asch.” He’s informal, maw stretching into a great smile, he might have hugged her too, if not for the formalities- she might still try for one later, he was always her favorite to hug, second only to father and Anduin- she could not truly choose her favorite of the two. “You look well, keeping busy?” She asks, gripping her dress and throwing the big heap of it forward. “Mayla puts me to work.” He jests such a sweet fondness in his face.

“I’m happy she does, I worry you get bored.” Asch hums, making him laugh boisterously into the sky. Asch tilts her attention, her smile remaining fond “A pleasure to meet you Trade Prince.” The goblin looks high up at her, puffing out a breath of assessment, his air high and mighty just as any alpha taller than him.

“Queeny.” He greets, in his slack and lazy way, it makes her giggle unceremoniously, and he grins showing his big teeth.

“Shall we?” Jaina gestures to a large decaying piece of the foundation, one last thing that remains of the mage tower once seated in the heart of her old port city. There is nothing special, ceremony and pomp really. They stand before the slab of old stone and Jaina lifts a document from her belt, its long and a waste of parchment, stating the same things that Anduin and the rest of them signed a year ago, an enduring peace, to hoping it lasts.

She is to sign first, Anduin had, so it is her duty. Jaina offers her a large, feathered pen already full of ink, she’s careful with her dress, being so bloody white. And scrawls her name in large lopped, pretty letters, she practiced for hours.

When she is finished, she offers it to Lor’themar and his fingers brush her own, his eyes linger, and she wonders if it was on purpose. But his gaze grows stale, defensive. And Asch can admit it frightens her until she feels what he is displeased with. The hard plane of a chest meets the delicate slope of her back, the breath heavy and deep and it is all she needs to know that it is not Mathias who slots behind her, but of course, Wrathion.

He remains there, properly improper, and never touching her with his hands. She’s too embarrassed to sidestep, worried he would follow, and too close to the rock to move away from him. Her face is surely pink, but she keeps a stern, dutiful expression, hoping the sun was bright enough to bleach her face from their knowing.

Baine signs in big blocky letters, Lor’themar is elegant swoops, and Gazlowe is just his initials scribbled lazily. Jaina rolls the parchment up after the ink dries and slots it for safekeeping back onto her belt, it still needs many more signatures, but for now, the gesture on their part is done.

“With the destruction, I trust you all understand you’ll have only the luxuries of your ships until we mean to depart for Dalaran.” Jaina informs, smiling at the crowd, “You are free to roam, if you wish- I caution you to watch your steps, however.”

Lor’themar and Baine nod in interest, Gazlowe yawns and saunters toward the ship they’ve docked. “High Queen Asch.” Lor’themar beckons, his face pinched but sweet, “Might you accompany me?”

Lor’themar is either dangerously stupid, or undeterred- which is also stupid. Mathias remains close on hand, listening and watching, while Wrathion creeps on her dress tails, inappropriate for a lowly advisor, but not for a challenged Alpha. Still, it is Lor’themar that has her on his arm, and Asch can hardly care that Wrathion nearly trips her every step with his stomping and brooding. The elf lord has his share of guards, but they remain on the edge of the fray, none of them have any weapons, so it’s funny to see the protection empty-handed without a thing to do.

“Tell me, do you find this all a bit much?” He asks, a cheery smile stuck to his face as he takes her in, his gaze steadfast on her face. He’s overwhelming in all the wonderful ways, happy Alpha always makes her insides gooey, she could almost purr if it wasn’t such a terrible idea. “A little,” she admits, batting her lashes at him, unable to help herself, Alpha likes you, her mind coos. She likes Alpha.

“Why do it twice?” She shrugs, yielding to her Omega’s little wants, and leaning into his arm. Lor’themar rumbles, it rolls up her arm and makes a pleasant shiver roll down her spine. “No one wants for war.” She reasons, looking up at his face again, they could have endless peace if she mated and married this fine thing of Alpha.

“That is certainly true.” Wrathion pipes up, his voice a steady simmer of rage, Lor’themar raises his brow, the glittering green eye flicking to the foul form behind her. “No one wants for it, but it certainly could occur.” They pause, Lor’themar jerking to a stiff halt. The air stinks, tinging on madness, “My advisor makes terrible jokes.” Asch rushes, watching the tight-lipped horror on Mathias’ face grow, why did you let him come?!  “Black dragons- they don’t know human customs, Lor’themar.” His name piques his interest, and the foul, acidic taste of angry Alpha flickers.

“Is it custom- for enemies to tease dalliances?” Wrathion has no sense.

“We are not enemies.” Asch insists quickly, kneading the Alpha in her hands, Lor’themar was twitching under her palm, “Are there no Omega’s in your city? Or are they all dead?”

That causes Lor’themar to yank from her grasp, the two Alpha’s get into each other’s faces, shoulders raising in the challenge. “She is not an Omega.” Lor’themar says carefully, large with suspicion.

“You had better go and find one then.” Wrathion grits out, exhaling smoke from his nose, little draconic features flaring up from his forehead as his control wanes. Asch does the only thing she can thing to do to stop them from starting a war. Shoving herself between two raging Alpha’s makes her bones hurt and her head feel numb, but she is Queen, and she will not allow this.

“Lor’themar I’m so sorry,” she musters, drawing back into Wrathion like a shield, “He’s- he’s so protective of me- since Anduin-“ she chokes up, real tears spilling from her eyes, “Since my brother left-“ It’s pathetic, but it’s exactly what was needed. Lor’themar snaps like a bow brought to fire, standing straight, a face full of guilt and sorrow.

“I-“ Lor’themar blinks, the animal fury draining from his face as he looks upon her sniffling, “Sunwell take me- I... I’m sorry-“

No, I am, Regent Lord.” They stand at proper odds, two leaders eying the other- it does not escape him that Asch clutches Wrathion behind her, “Please, let us part as friends.” She begs, a Queen should never beg, but the Omega must- needs too.

“A misunderstanding.” He offers with a curt nod, “Friend.”

Asch makes Wrathion stay there, still and behind her until Lor’themar and his guards are gone, and then a few minutes more before she is whipping around and smacking his pretty face, “You fucking fool!” She chides with all the wrath she can muster in her little frame. Wrathion’s head barely moves from her force, but he’s got a little pinkening bruise blooming already on his high cheek.

Asch steps away, one pace because she must, “Mathias could you- could you please leave us a moment?”

The spymaster glares at them both, “No.” He barks, “But I’ll go over there.” She assumed as much. “You’ll start a war out of a pissing contest- you fucking Alpha’s- how the bloody fuck are you all in charge?!” Asch mostly seethes to herself, rubbing her forehead with the cloth of her dress.

“As opposed to you, Omega?” Asch claps her hand over his mouth, scowling at him, Wrathion yanks her wrist, holding her still in his grip, “Spreading your legs for whichever Alpha looks at you.”

“Let me go,” she snarls lowly, “No,” He snarls back with more force than she could.

“You nearly started a war-“ she mumbles hatefully, “You’re pissing on my brother’s memory.”

“He isn’t dead.” Wrathion argues, squeezing her wrist gently, “Still- you can’t- I can’t have that. I won’t.” Asch harshly states, “You can’t disrespect Lor’themar-“

“He was a cunt.” Wrathion barks.

“Aren’t you?” Asch blusters, his eyes narrowing to slits, “He’ll not touch you again.” Wrathion orders.

“You’ll make no commands of your Queen.” Asch yaps, fighting to free herself, to no avail, “He’ll not touch you again, or I’ll cut his hands to stumps.” Wrathion leans close, his nose brushing the frayed strands of her hair, “I’ll kill the whole lot, fuck your peace, I’ll give you their heads instead.” It shouldn’t make her flutter. Asch bumps her brow into his beard, her mouth screwed shut, but accepting. Wrathion breathes smoke, he smells of cinders and sweet birch wintergreen embers that remind her of father’s old study, the overabundance of birchwood logs he would set over the flames, it would fill his chambers morning, noon, and night, and here no it stands, living and breathing.

“You’ll go home, I order you as Queen.” she murmurs with no strength to enforce it, lulled in by his words and smell, “No.” He says again, nose tracing her forehead, “Omega.”

 

 

Chapter 200: Darion AU Dabbles 7

Summary:

Happy 200 chapters!

Thanks to everyone who reads my garbage, comments, and bookmarks.
What started out as an archive for my work became a wonderful connection and meaningful pastime.
Please enjoy, and thank you. Here is to another 200 hundred or more!

Chapter Text

They were welcomed with open eyes and open hearts, accepting of all their flaws, the four new mouths to feed, and the death knight that should have left, but instead offered his service as a guard beyond the wall. None feared him, or what he was capable of, the distrust he faced on Azeroth was nowhere to be seen, perhaps they were so few that it mattered little what help looked like, only that it was there, and could take thrice the guard shifts because Darion no longer slept, nor would he take food from them because he did not eat.

His horse alone was a deterring sight to whatever roamed the thick brush of the lush, marshland laid before them, a death rider with quaking eyes of silver fog and a shrinking cry that could still the hearts of red-blooded heroes.

Darion was not so different from his mount, his eerie unwavering stillness that death allowed him was a haunting thing indeed. Asch, for the third time, sought to stare at his eyes while he was unawares, focused intently on what the head guard Marius detailed. From side face, they appeared sunken in his skull, not anything but lichfire to keep his lids from sagging downward like so many of the corpses she had seen traveling to this place.

Corvid and scavengers make for the eyes and tongue first, picking at the easy parts of the face, unless there was a disease, they knew well enough to stay away from, but by then the eyes were oozing in their sockets, dripping like heavy cream down dedicated faces.

Asch is distracted, wondering if Arator would be left entombed forever in Undercity, or if the Lich King cowed him into his unending army. If his face was peeling back from his skull, losing all the beauty Asch had admired more than once, if she was honest with herself.

He was strikingly handsome, his loyal heart golden in a time of darkness, she should want for him- like she had when they were but two, he was pretty enough, his jaw like a man and his ears like an elf, his shoulders his father’s and his chin was his mother’s. Arator was appealing, and if he had lived, she might not look at the death knight with the eyes of a longing lover, forlorn from time apart.

His strange eyes only held contempt when he caught her gaze or she could look long enough without wincing away to see it, the beautiful blaze livening with his wrath, another thing she wondered if true or just a trick of her scared eyes.

Galadin yawns at her breast, his face pink and warm now, gaining all the life back surrounded by heat, it brings a smile to her face as she coos, though it’s a tad sour- Rhonin had dumped his baby to her care. The arse. The baby was beautiful, another mix of mortal and elf, with hair as red as his father’s and a sorry reminder of what’s been left behind.

She was a child herself, not fit to care for a boy as a mother, but what choice was she given? It would be nasty to leave him at the orphanage in Shattrath, it felt a sin to forget about a boy just because she wanted some of her life back and the freedoms this new world would allow her. Tirion said she would forgive Rhonin for it, love the blessing for what it was, You’ll live so long, what do a few years do to an elf? Galadin would be a grown man and she would wish to have those elementary years returned.

Someday she might appreciate his council in the matter, understand the words of an old paladin who saw so many boys grow up and die for all different reasons- for now, he could curse Rhonin too, for he was the only one she could call to help her raise the poor babe. Galadin was not hers, nor would he ever be, he deserved to know his mother and father were heroes, she would tell him so herself, and she hopes dimly that Rhonin might someday too- if he survives his treacherous campaign.

Asch pats her hands along her ratted dress, peering at the flour clotting up the threads- a bath might be in order, no sense in dwelling when the country night was so beautiful, she had forgotten what true warmth was.

 

“Mograine!” His name said with an elven drawl was strange to his ears.

“Aye.” He calls, his throat full of snow, everything was strange here, alive. His senses were wrapped behind walls of sleet and ice, slowly melting away the further the grasp of the Lich King got. The itching domination magic a soft whisper it once was. He could smell again; he could smell the rain dewy in the grass and wet in the trees.

He could hear the birds and the beating of life, and it stopped bothering him. His needy twitching to snuff it out became a dying roar getting lost in time.

“Guard the back camps, near the pools.” Captain Clearsky was gnarled in the face, a bit of metal cut his cheek where it could have cut his face in two. He was tall, like all the elves, far taller than Darion might have ever hoped to be- his father was not much taller now and his mother was a small woman.

Darion sheathes his weapons upon his back, the weight is a comfort he’d long forgotten to notice, the same comfort one might find in a blanket or a book, they weren’t so old, but they were unique when he found time to appreciate the blades.

One had impeccable runes, etched with a good hand, the other was scrapped on with a pick and jagged. The left was heavier than the right and the leather around the hilt was different stripes of animal leather, light in color on the right and muddy brown on the left. They were just tools once, they are tools now, nothing he would go back for on the battlefield, but he knows what makes them quality.

His trek to the pool was a short one, cutting through the middle of the camp. Everything is valued here, from the wood to the arrows, nothing is made to waste, they had no luxury to throw anything, even finding a way to repurpose scraps of food, piling it into a bind far from the camps, close to the fields they plow.

The day he came he counted, sixty weak, even fewer houses. He was offered a bed in the barracks, but he did not sleep. The camp had twenty houses, a few still being built. Gold was no currency here, only labor, and the more you offered, the larger your wealth- if Kal’dorei believed in that, that is.

Their camp backed off a river outflow, with a few pools deep enough to bathe, the swell of heat from the undercurrents offering at least acceptable conditions. Darion would bathe if only he was covered in blood- or complained about.

Darion comes to the hill, overlooking the pools, and pauses to survey the area, stilling as only death would allow.

Fewer than no one was here, it late and long past acceptable for most to find themselves a bath- all but one.

Darion finds his lips curling without consent, his contempt rising with his blood. Asch with a leather tie pinning her lush hair from her back stands naked in the low light of the rising moon, her back to his entrance, arse plump and pleasing to the eye- near better than any common girl Darion had the chance to peek on.

Her legs were weak little things, shapely from starvation, but her skin gained its pink color back. She washes the filth from the one dress she left Silvermoon with, its ratted sleeves and dust filthy color sopping dark and wet as she rings it to dry.

It should be nothing to him, but it was, with his humanity restored- or what remained, he felt disgusted with himself for staring, just as he did the day after that boy did. He had stared then too, her tits were pleasing, big enough for his palms, and her shoulders were soft and rounded. Darion could lift her easy, he knew he could even now, lift her up on the edge and-

A gasp shatters the fog of his vision, her face steel with shock, her lips were so plump after a few good meals, little wet stray hairs stick to her cheeks and leave her an image that could buckle his knees if he were a green boy.

Her lip quivers, her eyes searching him, trying to find words- any words she could speak, but they remain empty, staring at one another. Darion tilts his chin down, she could understand it as a nod or something more menacing, it at least, stirs action.

Her dress was still soaked through, so she could hardly try to put it on, but she covers the front of her little frame, leaving the pool in a wet hurry. She must pass him to flee, and just like a pig to slaughter, she straight into his grasp. Darion catches her easily, his hand curls around her upper arm, jolting her back into a stumble, making her yelp and shiver in fear.

He wears no helmet, she measures his whole face for evil, and she’s sure to find some or create it. Darion does not know himself what possessed him into leaning forward, but her wet lips are warm on his chapped and dead ones. She’s still, tense, and her lips don’t move- just as his didn’t the last time.

Darion separates and she slips a little, following before snapping herself back into the present.

Her breath is light and fast on his face, the feeling odd- so alive. “Run.” He says, low, gravelly, and without mercy. Chase me, her eyes say what her mouth cannot move to. “One-“ He breathes, releasing his hold on her arm.

“Two.” She breaks off. Her wet dress slopping to the stone beneath them, she’s fast, he watches her go into the forest, back from where she came, where no walls were erected to cut off the river flow. Darion grapples with himself to sit still, “Three-“ and he lunches after her.

Chapter 201: Wrathion ABO Dabbles 3

Summary:

Onward and upward my friends, please enjoy this with the new year

Chapter Text

 

Lor’themar is tense, off standish come morning next. Asch could not blame his caution nor the unfriendliness, but it was disappointing. If not just that he was handsome, and he was mightily so. No, it was a bad omen, Baine stared between them confused, wondering where all the warmth went.

Wrathion had certainly snuffed any goodwill and any hope of a permanent peace between factions. Just for the longest moment, she imagines self-indulgently, what Lor’themar Theron might have been like as a mate.

She would tell him, she would have to, and he would be overjoyed, if not a bit miffed, he was kept of the secret- he would understand, he was just so understanding. She would see him, in all his glory as an Alpha, and he would her as his Omega. He would be gentle and kind, nurse her through her heats- all Alpha’s know how. and she would be so happy.

They’d have pretty babies- so many, at least three. All cornsilk hair and shining eyes, little sharp ears, and sweet faces. Would they live in Stormwind? Or somewhere else? Anduin would like him- that she knew certain.

Jaina has them go through a Portal to Dalaran, the journey too treacherous since its relocation on the broken shore. They would spend three nights here in the city’s inn and meet with The Council of Three Hammers, Tyrande Whisperwind, along with Rokhan of the Darkspear, Thalyssra, and Thrall. Just the same, no weapons or magic, the city was a haven from all that violence.

Wrathion was unpleasant, Mathias was a warning, but he wouldn’t make a show of force to push him into leaving, as desperate as she was to make him go. Her sudden rise to power made him strange, offering her more interest- advance than he had ever before. Anduin’s baby sister, never mind they were only a year apart. She was hardly spoken to, and now Wrathion did everything in his power to single her out.

Alpha bullheadedness, he was not unlike any other before him, his speech the same as all Alpha’s, just as bold, just as entitled- just as disgusting.

Yesterday was enough to make her tear her own hair out- idiot- she should wiggle her way back into Lor’themar’s goodwill just to spite him. Or find another Alpha to flirt with. If Mathias thought it was a dangerous game he should have shooed the dragon long ago. It wasn’t her idea to bring the bastard to these peace talks and as surely as she was of anything, she was sure he would not be here if not for her having to be.

They await to enter after all the Horde has, a nicety she’d rather extend than have offered herself. Wrathion breathes down her neck, and it irritates her enough to step too close to Genn, who merely flicks his head in recognition. He was all but her father now, a man so devoted it make her teeth hurt.

He reaches back daftly, patting her hip before vanishing through the portal.

“Go on, My queen.” Wrathion exhales into her ear, eliciting an unwanted shiver.

Portal’S always makes her sick, the axis of her being tilted off balance each time. Genn is fortunate enough to know and scoops his arms around her in a half hug of support, half because he does not wish for any to see the Queen’s weakness, and half because he loves her. Asch nudges his chin gratefully, smiling at the sweetness of his leather scent ripening with joy.

The horde has already dissipated considerably, Baine all that is left of their party. Gelbin puffs a large breath, examining the grand porta room with an air of disinterest but appreciation still. “Hey, Tauren!” He spouts, a grin on his aging face, Bain peers down at him, and it takes everything not to laugh at the sight.

“Yes, High Tinker?” He answers, amused himself. Gelbin waves him off viciously, “Gelbin, you big goat, come drink with me!”

Baine snorts, his heave hooves clopping o the stone beneath his feet, “This ‘big goat’ will have you beat in two flagons.” He boasts joyously. Asch giggles at the two, gaining Baine’s warm attention, his sunflower and sweetgrass scent calming her nose from Wrathion’s rageful cinder. “Come and drink with us, Asch, I won’t ask you to compete, only hail the winner.”

Asch considers the offer readily, but it is not her who accepts, “Delightful- shall we?” Wrathion hums and Asch sours, aiming a little scowl his way. “Excellent! I’ve never beaten a dragon before.” Baine boasts, moving along with Gelbin, the pair look an odd couple, Gelbin can’t even reach the height of Baine’s knee.

Asch stalls, watching, Mathias and Genn remain at her sides, but she has no shame in reprimanding the dragon without privacy. “You’ll not speak for me again.” She spits vile poison, and Wrathion blinks his bloody eyes, bored with her, “Did you not want to go? He asks, a haughty air about him like always. “You are not my Alpha and I need no permission from you.” She stabs him with an accusing finger, flicking his lapel, “I’m your Queen.” She’s said it so much it begins to feel less and less true.

“Mathias, Genn, would you like to come along?” She asks, ignoring him. The two look uncomfortable, as though they’ve been entrenched in a lovers spat- she hates that. “I will leave you with a detail, your majesty, but I fear my old bones are getting the best of me.” Genn supplies, a stretch of his discomfort. Asch nods, pouting softly before moving to kiss his cheek, “Feel better, for me.” Genn wraps her in a long and crushing hug.

“Mathias?” She asks muffled in Genn’s coat, “I don’t drink, your majesty.” He says.

“You do with Flynn.” She teases, watching a shadow stain his cheeks, “Not on duty.” He corrects with a huffs, Asch exhales a tiny laugh, “Do you think then,” she hedges, watching his intrigue, “You could leave me with the detail? I hear there is a portal to Boralus in an hour- surely, I’ll be safe, with all that and a dragon.”

Mathias halts, the tension rising in his face, he’s going to decline, and she feels so hopeless for Flynn- the most patient man she’s met yet. “Go on, why not?” Genn adds, enticing him.

“Yes,” Wrathion encourages too, “That and a dragon.” She shouldn’t have said anything. Mathias works his lip, “I will be back in an hour.” He relents, Asch gasps a little cheer, “You’ll be back after dinner, your Queen commands it.” Mathias snorts a protest, crossing his arms defiantly, “Say hello for me.” Asch coos, watching his slacken and recede.

The detail is for show, the lot of them with no weapons- and besides, Baine is a good friend, and Gelbin brought nothing with him. Alpha’s and their assuredness, always so pompous.

They had started without them, drinking for sport, quick and impressive. “My Queen will have your finest red.” Wrathion had cleverly armed her into the booth so nothing, but the wall and his body were between her.

Asch loathes him, “A beer, actually, my lady thank you.” Wrathion flashes her a subdued irritated scowl. “The red for me then.” He grumbles, “Beer gives you a headache.” He cautions, how did he remember that?

“Well, then it’s my headache.” She refuses to bend, making him scoff. Baine chortles, “Your brother likes beer.” Asch smiles fondly at his big face, “Don’t tell- but it makes him sleepy.”

Wrathion worms his arm low around her, curling her into his side. Gelbin is too drunk to notice, and Baine can’t see from under the table. Asch claws at the fingers stuck to her hips, trying to pry him off while remaining pleasant. “I am envious, I must say.” Baine begins, downing another cup in full before hailing another, “That you have Stormsong Valley in your midst- I hear the mead is delicious.”

Asch needles her sharp nails into Wrathion’s hand, ignoring how little it phases him. “I could have some of the sent to you.”

“Mayla would love that.” Baine sighs wistful and lovesick. Asch relents her attacks, “You miss her already?” Its so sweet how soft his face grows, “Of course I do. I miss her all the time.”

“Is it rude to ask- how two Alpha’s manage it?” Wrathion ruins everything he’s a part of. Baine shakes his big head, his horns swaying and bells tittering, “She isn’t an Alpha.” That was news. “She isn’t?” Asch pipes, thanking the barmaid for her cup. Wrathion with his other hand swirls the wine glass against the table, two fingers clutching the long stem, while the others on her hips make warm patterns.

“No,” Baine tilts his head in confusion, “She’s an Omega- what made you think she wasn’t?”

Asch gaps quietly, “Well- I… I just assumed- she’s-“ Baine chuckles at her expense, “Ah, I have forgotten, Stormwind teaches things differently. We are not so ridged as all that, pardon my saying.”

“How exciting,” Asch jumps slightly in her seat, unable to contain herself, “I’d like to meet her, to understand how she manages.” Baine shrugs, fisting another flagon, Gelbin clinks his glass before the inhale the beer. “Same as you, I’d suspect, same as all of us. It is the heart that rules, not the body. Anduin knew that the best.”

Asch sits back, hands cupping her cold glass, lost in thought if the Tauren could have an Omega leader- a markedly simple race of people, why couldn’t Stormwind? It makes her sad and hopeful in all the same breath. “I heard you had sighted him, not long ago- but left the lead unchecked.” Baine muses over the rim of his ale, sipping it gently now as he watches her with big black eyes.

Asch digs her thumb into the cooling water gathering against the glasses body, watching the droplets slip over her fingers and chill her hands, “He left for a reason, he doesn’t want to be found-“ Before the tears erupt from her face she sighs wetly, shaking her head, “I do believe you are the winner, Baine.”

Confusion flickers across his face, but then Baine peers down at the slump Gelbin’s become, and chuckles. “Guards,” Asch hails, “Bring him up to his rooms,” Baine brings his big hand to right the poor gnome up, patting tiny shoulder, “But my Queen, we shouldn’t leave you.” One guard answers her nervously.

Asch rolls her eyes, “There are five of you, two can go and stay with him.” They look uneasy with her decision, “Go.” Wrathion’s growls, that they listen to without hesitance. Asch slumps, Why won’t they listen to me? She knows the answer, You aren’t an Alpha, they don’t respect you. She could not entice fear or obedience like Anduin could, not as Wrathion does. Asch digs her elbows into the table, kneading her temple, “I’ve gotten a headache.” She frets at Wrathion to move. Baine raises with her, bowing as he understands their time has now expired.

“A pleasure as always, I look forward to the new few weeks Asch.” Baine smiles, dropping a few gold pieces onto the table. “As do I, Baine- we will have dinner before this is all over.” She insists, to his delight, “With Mayla.” He adds.

Wrathion no longer touches her, but follows like a whiny pup at her heels, having no care for the guards as they climb the stairs to her private chambers, “You didn’t drink.” Wrathion smarty muses as the door seals them shut.

The rooms were beautiful, large and the last on the floor. The balcony was open to the fresh air, allowing the afternoon sun inside and the slight wind to rustle the lush blue drapery. Before her is a vast purple carpet, a desk at the edge with a bookshelf full of tales and ledgers that all guests must love because the spines are well worm with creases.

Her trunks sit at the foot of her massive bed- too massive for even three people, and the curtains surrounding them are lush with little speckles of magic stars. She cannot see the baths from here, but it must be just as grand as all the rest. Wrathion chooses to lean against the back of the sofa that sits in front of a marble fireplace, the heat of it dulled without an attendant. It was too hot for now anyway.

“I can have a headache all the same.” She answers because she does, and it prickles between her eyes. “No one listens to me like they do you- or did Anduin, or Mathias- or Genn.” Why she bothers with telling him, she does not know, but expelling it makes her feel the smallest bit better.

“You are a Beta; they don’t have to.” He shrugs, and what relief she feels is diminished by his harsh words. “I’m the Queen- they made me the Queen- they should have had Turalyon do this if it’s such a burden to listen to a Beta.”

“Yes, they should have.” He agrees, and it makes angry tears well up in her eyes, “Why are you so cruel?” She finally forces out, the urge of her tears egging her on. Wrathion’s face pulls, and for once he looks sorry for the stupid things he’s said. “Is it what you wanted? Omega’s aren’t meant for it.”

“Mayla is.” Asch reminds bitterly, swiping away tears that won’t stem. “Mayla is a cow-“

Her people still listen! They still follow her! No one listens to me! Not unless it’s said twice and seconded by an Alpha!” She cries the sleeves of her gown are ruined with tears, “I- I must do this! Anduin left and I’m all that remains-“ she chokes on her misery. Wrathion kicks up from the sofa, his approach careful, “What is it you want?” He asks her once more, softer now.

Not you.” She hisses but doesn’t stop his hands from finding her hips. “Liar.” He slanders.

“I don’t.” she asserts, shaking her head until she’s pulled close to his embrace, “You do.” He maintains, his heady scent swirling in her head, making her headache abate. “You don’t listen. You do what you like- and you’re rude.” Her list could go on in length, longer than any parchment she had could handle.

“Ask something of me.” Wrathion goads, his voice a whisper as he traces her temple with his nose, curled over her like a protective barrier. Asch swallows, her fingers twitching to his forearms, grasping him, “Kneel.”

Wrathion grips her, his breath heavy, his eyes wild, untethered- He’s refusing it, with his face, his scent- his whole manner rejects her. Wrathion jerkily pulls his hands from her sides, fingers stiff and clawed like a hawk gnashing for a kill. The waves of displeasure rolling off his body make her stomach sick.

Slowly- she can’t believe it- he sinks to the floor, stiff as any pillar. It’s dutiful, practiced.

“Is that all?” He grits out through clenched teeth, mouth twitching as if his whole being must be held back. She is utterly speechless, her lack of words lapse so long he vibrates with anger, “Omega.” He bites off a snarl before it grows too large in his chest. Asch pants, her thighs squeezing together at the sheer heavy sound of him.

Asch gnaws at her lip ‘til it’s raw and sore- Alpha’s don’t hesitate. It’s hard, still, to lift her frail leg, battling her dress until her ankle is free of all the fabric. She’s so cautious, a live beast snaps before her, at any moment he could devour her whole, bones and all. But Wrathion allows her the action, watching with a sliver-sized gaze, a red puff of fog is all that remains of his scarlet eyes. She sputters a breath from her chest as she slides her leg over his broad shoulder, unable to look at him as she does.

The Alpha smell is stuck to her tongue, clotting the roof of her mouth, and choking the back of her throat so close like this. She wants to retreat, tell him to go. She pulls her leg, trying to detach herself, all for him to grasp her calf and still her. His nose inches up her exposed flesh, inhaling greedily above her knee.

“Liar.” He kisses into her flesh, mouth messy and wet. Asch can’t breathe now that she’s forced to stare at the sight before her, his captivating features ensnaring her, “Is this what you want?” he mouths up her leg, sliding her dress up her thigh.

Asch’s gasp is small and nervous, “Speak, Queen.” He nips her soft naked thigh, her dress was a flimsy barrier between he and her wanton, desperate little cunt. “Y-Yes-“ Asch can only choke.

Wrathion delves beyond her silk dress, shoving his head between her quivering legs. He plants a heated kiss first, peppering her wet lips with his own, a content rumble rolling from his chest that has her dizzy and heaving forward to grasp his other shoulder.

Asch clutches his hair, gasping pants escaping her hanging out, her chest heaving as Wrathion slathers his tongue along her cunt, mapping her folds with each swipe- light what’s possessed her? The point of his savage tongue darts and twirls against her quivering hole, he pays special attention, worshiping the tremble between her legs.

 “You’ve never had a knot.” His lips brush her clit, his sounds so composed, “I- I’ve-“ Asch gulps for air, shakily inhaling, “I’ve never had anyone- ah!” He suddenly sucks the soft flesh bud between his lips, purring all the while. It’s all she can take- “Wrathion- I- I’ll f-fall-“ Asch wheezes, her lungs won’t cooperate, won’t gather enough air.

“Hm.” Wrathion hums, then leaves her cold and aching. Asch yelps when he lifts her, carrying her to the wall beside her bed, a soft hiss of displeasure escapes her red mouth as she forced up against the hard stone before he’s back between her thighs, raising her leg where it belongs.

Asch digs her head into the stone behind her, shaking and squirming in his hands. Wrathion is ravenous, taking all his frustrations out on her poor flesh. Wrathion heaves her other leg up, spreading her open to his adventurous mouth. Grasping her in his capable arms, the only thing keeping her from plummeting to the floor was strength alone- and light she knew he could. Asch rolls her hips against his handsome face, moaning softly, biting the back of her hand to silence herself from the embarrassment this would bring.

His mouth and hands are searching, squeezing the plumpness of her arse in his palms as he licks up the slick she leaks. “W-Wrathion-“ his tongue flicks and his teeth scrape in earnest, savoring the taste in his mouth. There is no mercy, the hungry restlessness makes her climb the wall, her hips unsure if they wish to press down or escape him.

Wrathion gives her little choice in the matter, keeping her still with bone stiff fingers and a fast mouth. Tremors take over her fingers, a sweat pooling low in her back- it feels wonderful, all at once, her belly feels heated, scorching under his ire.

She knows the feeling from her heats, it’s never been so full before. Asch mewls, arching for him, his name a quiet scream in her hand. Wrathion works her gently, easing and exuding pride, cleaning her with kitten licks and long, drawn-out glides of his sinful tongue.

S-Stop-“ she begs, attempting to push him away, trembling into the hard wall that without pleasure, hurts her back. Wrathion relents, finally digging himself out of her skirts. His bread- light she is mortified. Its all over his bread, matted in the coarse hair, she can feel the sting in her thighs from the burn.

“Hah- light, wipe your face-“ Asch rasps, cowering in her hands and hiding her red face. He grins- the fool. His lips are so pink and puffy, “Turn around.” His voice is stones rolling together, “I don’t wish to rip your pretty dress.”

Wrathion prods her side, caressing her into a spin- light- “N-No w-wait-“ Asch heaves, scrabbling to pester his hands off her hips, Wrathion leans into her neck, inhaling sharply, “We- I- can’t,” she’s swallowing his roused scent in gulps, she will never rid herself of the heady intoxicating, tongue stuck scent of Alpha musk. “You, Omega can’t? Or the Queen?” Wrathion is slowly clawing her dress up in his greedy big hands. Asch shoves at him, shaking her head, “Stop- Stop-“ She cries, “Enough!” Her limbs are lank and heavy, slumped into the brace of the stone wall that bites her palms.

Wrathion slips from her back, and her dress thumps back to the floor in a clap of fabric far too heavy. “Wrathion- I-“ Asch bites her cheeks, no, you cannot. “Please go.” She murmurs, fighting tears.  

Wrathion jerks, “Is it you, Omega that asks?” His eyes narrow, “Or the Queen?”

It’s the Omega that cries as the Queen speaks, “Go.”

Chapter 202: Wrathion ABO Dabbles 4

Summary:

We remain horny for dragons. Also, I instantly became true friends with our little lovable bastard and now all my dragons are black flight. This game really knows how to pander to my obsessions.
Anyway, have fun and enjoy.

Chapter Text

Asch could not still the shake in her fingers, each twitching- reaching, for someone who was no longer here. If Mathias noticed, he made no comment, and he noticed everything.

“Your majesty,” He tests, watching her with his hawkish eyes, “Y-Yes?” She tries and fails to sound casual. She always was a terrible liar. “Are you well?” How could she answer such a thing?

Yes,” She cannot meet his eye, instead cowardly turning her face to the side. If he makes anything of it, he does not say, if they were further from the doors of the dining hall, he might have made a comment about damn black dragons, but he draws her close- it’s oddly reminiscent of a hug and offers her first step into the hell that was political dinners.

She might have enjoyed it, were it not for the empty chair to her left that spelled her advisor absent- but wouldn’t he be? You shunned him after he was tongue deep in- Asch shakes her head, feeling the heat lick her cheeks. No amount of think better thoughts would ever do away with that powerful image of him- a black dragon prince upon his knees before her.

The smell alone was stuck fiercely unto her gown, she had to change, she changed everything in the last hour before this dinner so no trace would be left of him, but it was already too late for that, he was etched in her mind and aching in her heart.

All of the Alliance leaders present sit the one side, her at the head while Thrall the other. The only connecting two were Gazlowe next to Gelbin- who were in a heated debate of whose better at inventing, and Tyrande next to Baine, the wisest choice of any two. With he finally seated the servants begin dressing the table in all kinds of foods, from delicacies of Orgimmar to old recipes from Gilneas city.

Asch picks at her food, barely holding a conversation with Genn, who has all but given up trying it. His concern is touching, but everything feels invasive. I cannot tell you- please stop-

The sudden offensive reek of Omega heat clogs her nose, Asch sputters and chokes, her silverware clattering to the porcelain. Genn sits high, alert- his cheeks a bit green already. “Wrathion, glad to have you join us.” Gelbin, still drunk prattles, raising his wine glass in his small fist, thrusting it with such a force it spurted onto the white tablecloth, soaking it in cherry red stain.

Asch gags in her napkin, choking on each breath as he swaggers into the hall, slipping into the vacant seat beside her, “Apologies, I had an engagement- and she wouldn’t let me go.” He chuckles and it earns a few amused titters from all around.

“You dragons are fascinating.” Thalyssra muses, her voice a strange echo that all nightborne share. The skin of her hands glows with untapped magic, gathering white at the tips of her clawed fingers, it was elegant and strange. The fork in her fist emanates steady pulses, the silver shivering just the slightest with her power.

“Oh?” Wrathion coos, leaning forward, invading her space- It couldn’t possibly be on purpose. Asch flicks her head to the side, quick and tiny breathes in and out to bear the brunt of horrible apple cider and sickness. “Thank you.” He’s all sugar and slippery sweet syrup, his handsome grin- she could feel it still between her thighs.

Thalyssra chuckles, “You’re welcome- but-“ Her tall nail taps the empty wine glass, her own feral Alpha grin intrigued, “Mortals- what makes you so interested?”

Wrathion blows a theatrical breath, leaning lazily to one side, his hair tickles Asch’s shoulder. “Aside from being the last of my kind?”

“Yes, aside from that.” Thalyssra grins. “I admired the adventurous nature, if you can fuck it- you do.” It creates a canopy of roaring laughter, Asch slips down her cushion, her ears burning. “We are eating.” Genn reminds, his fork full of food awaiting his mouth, his fatherly scowl cutting sideways. “So was I, that’s why I’m late.”

It’s disgustingly suspicious to leave now, but she flops the napkin onto her barely picked plate, carting her dress out from under the table, Mathias is not far behind her, but nothing is more important than breathing, her lungs are on fire, charring around the edges crippled with soot after a blaze.

“Mathias.” His voice makes bile clog her windpipe, her throat fills with a scream that hisses out. Wrathion stares daggers sharp on her skin, scratching her bloody. “Go.” Husky, guttural- Alpha’s mad.

Asch bares her little wet teeth, hurling a crystal glass piece from the near table at his head, missing him by an inch. Wrathion glances at it with disdain where it smacks the wall, leaving little glittering bits in the space of the stones. Omega’s mad.

Mathias eyes him, eyes her, then slips behind him, closing the door with a click. “You told me to go.” As if she needs the reminder. Asch curls her shoulders back, not head and shoulders as tall, but with the moon at her back, she prays no matter how ineffective an Omega is against an Alpha- that he knows she is in no mood for this.

“Do you want me?” Wrathion is familiar in his words, they ring the same as the rest, all the same of the last few days, but they seem tired, seem angry but without fire, exasperation of a kind she has not seen upon his face since- she has not seen it.

It disappoints her that it’s her, that it’s first shown too, a failure of hers.

“You know that I cannot,” Asch answers, a festering wound of disappointment, clotted by the sickness of apple surrounding his very skin, Asch wishes to scrub it from his handsome flesh with her own fingers, surrounded by bright bubbles and the warmth of bath water. Asch swallows, she would like to see him wet and between her legs.

“Then I will find an Omega that does.” He has the sense to hiss it only as loud as she could hear it, as low as the moon is high. And just as full of clarity as it is with pain. Wrathion’s lips cut thin, his nod is slow and methodical, “I take my leave of you, my Queen.”

It hurts more than anything- it hurts more than dying.

Mathias stands aside, his back illuminated by candles, allowing the shadow the fill his face as grim as she felt inside. “Asch?” Wrathion shoves past him, gnashing their shoulders in a battle before his exit is swift and silent, his boots not even making the faintest sound to tell her where he goes.

Asch quivers, her lip shivering, “Mathias?”

“Yes?” He’s cautious, his hands held up as if to corral a fleeing creature, “Take me to where my father died.”

 

It was sheer stupidity, or perhaps sorrow, that drives her to the dirt hole in the ground that lays taint with unholy fel. Her dress is soot ruined, the beautiful blue of her lion wear wrecked with demon blood, and her father’s dust bones.

She can see the littlest bit of cracked blood that pulses in the black ground. Mathias offers her company, his honey-soaked smell a comfort for her the way Wrathion’s was to her before it became too sad to dwell on.

“Why would you wish to come here?” He asks, curious afforded over sadness. “I need to apologize to my father.” She mutters in shame, swiping the ground just to see if she can make any mark or if the ground was hard as obsidian. “For what?” There was no wind here, it was silent and still.

“For disobeying him.” Asch bends to the earth, its taint stings her nose, and her lips kiss the ash. “Mathias?” her tears dribble down her cheeks, dot the remains of where her father once stood. “Yes, sweet girl?” It had been so long since he had called her that.

The last was the day of her father’s funeral.

“Find me a husband- any will do.” Asch rises, her legs hurting and wobbling below her, “I’m tired.”

“It’ll be a Beta.” Mathais warns, as if he must, as if she does not know.

“I don’t care.” She says, hollow, I’m sorry father.

 

Chapter 203: Wrathion ABO Dabbles 5

Summary:

So there is a chance I got a little too insane for Lor'themar Theron, and produced this, don't worry its still all about Wrathion but I couldn't just dangle Lor'themar and no do anything with him. Anyway enjoy, I re-did this like five times.

Chapter Text

In the coming spare days, her mind is bereft, hollow. Wrathion no longer clouds her space, but she cannot stop thinking about him. It should be a blessing, to be rid of him so she may get work done and continue this peace campaign.

It is until Thalyssra ruins her shaky peace. The woman does not do it on purpose, but when she boasts, “Watching him chase Omega’s is rather amusing.” She finds it funny, as Thrall and Gelbin, it’s not their fault, it might have been amusing if Asch’s heart wasn’t hurt. Wrathion has the sense about him not to flaunt it.

Asch almost chokes on her sob, he no longer makes it a show, a game, to allow her the knowledge he isn’t serious and that should make her happy, the Alpha no longer at her heels, making her position shaky. You threw him away, Asch hisses in the lonely confines of her chambers, You told him to leave. And yet is she sad that he has.

Father would be furious with her, but she visits the spot of his demise every day, sitting with the hollow ground and crying, Mathias wants to speak, say something to ease her pain, but he never does because duty is more important than her own personal wants.

Asch comes to hate Dalaran, its open air and shaky bottom, land that should be on the ground, she feels too heavy and too light all at once when he walks- and finds she wants to go home. Genn is overjoyed to hear she wants to marry as if she is his own daughter. Anduin was surely a son to him. Asch finds she misses Anduin a little less and is angrier with him for leaving, for insisting that, like all other Alpha’s, she is not to expose herself. They never knew mother, but she decides mother would have not wanted this for her only daughter and forms an image around the Omega Queen that she was, fiery and fierce, fed up with all the Alpha’s who know they know best.

That comforts her most when she sits and fields respective Beta matches. It’s a long, tedious issue, that has most of the other world leaders laughing at her expense, it’s all in good fun, but it does not lift the heavy weight upon her chest when she looks each man in the face and they speak of their qualities. None of them have prideful red eyes, or thick black hair- or a voice that is both cruel and sweet, not hands that burn her skin.

One of them has a beard that’s just similar enough that she can see the wet shine in her mind’s eye, and it brings her belly warmth, but even that is a lie- a sin. Anduin called himself a priest and was disciplined in the practice, Asch could not call herself anything, she knew a small healing spell from his tutelage and two portals from Jaina’s, one to Stormwind, and another to Kul Tiras. She does not think she would make a good priest, not with the thoughts swimming around her head at night when she is alone and aching.

The way his eyes left little clouds on her thighs, wafting danger as his tongue licked its ownership of her cunt. Asch tries, without succession, to feel something for these plain Beta’s, but their shoulders weren’t wide enough, and they command no power to interest her.

Wrathion- he’s been absent enough she thinks he’s gone home- wherever that might be, but she doesn’t ask- she would never again allow herself to ask about him again.

“Well miss my Queen,” a cheeky voice bumbles up, and Asch is forced from her isolation, snapping up in her chair at the sound of a suave, slightly drunken voice. “Might I be a marriage candidate?” Flynn Fairwind, with his easy smile and honeysuckle scent, makes her mind all the brighter. Asch squeaks like a child, yanking her skirts up to hurry around the table and hug him with all she can.

“You are already married.” She mumbles into his coat, he smells like the sea and salty air, he’s a fresh breath from all the arcane magic and city dust. “Mathias doesn’t need to know,” He says confidently, “I could spirit us away, and wipe that sad look off your face.” Flynn squeezes back, utterly uninterested in letting her go. Mathias grunts, half in the shadow of the door, “Careful.” He barks with no heat.

Flynn grins mightily, “We could take her, Grand theft Queen.” He says, as if the idea is the only one there is, “A Beta to complete our set.” Asch’s face twitches, Mathias narrows his eyes, “She must find a husband to make king. Not a drunk Omega.”

Flynn feigns a wound, huffing indignantly, “Yes I saw- all the kicked puppies are still outside, hoping you might change your mind.” Asch shrinks, smiling in shame, Flynn taps her chin with his curled finger, “You need cheering up, and since you seem to be… finished?” Flynn peers over at Mathias, who begrudgingly confirms, “Let’s convince my husband, hm?”

“I am standing right here.” Mathias informs, exasperated fondly with his husband, Flynn shakes his head, “You are Master Shaw.” He says with a crinkled brow and a daunting voice, “Uncompromised in your duty to the Queen.”

Asch giggles, despite her heart sickness from their banter. “Then I suppose the Queen should relieve you of your duties for the night.”

Mathias’ arms twitch, a fondness overtaking him as he stands off the wall, a small smile across his aging, handsome face. “There is my husband Mathias.” Flynn unwinds himself from her grasp, and she lets him go with an aching sadness, to his husband, who pecks his cheek and no more. Flynn pouts, but there is a small, subtle sound of later, and Asch wishes she had duller ears.

“You know.” She says, steeling her voice, “I could do without you, for the day.”

Flynn frowns, but Asch quickly shakes her head, “Tomorrow, you can cheer me up all you like, that is my order.”

“As Queen?” Flynn teases with a huff, “As your friend. Please, go on, you don’t see enough of each other.” Flynn seems to want to protest, but Mathias knows her better- knows what’s happened, and knows she cannot take Flynn and his loving of his husband without crying. Asch knows he can spy the tears that already threaten her composure, and nods, “You can bother her later, Flynn.” Mathias hums, Flynn glares softly, “Bother me now.” At that his face softens, an excited joy coming to his eyes, “Alright- tomorrow, be good, Asch.” He says, and it makes her smile a little, “Me? You’re the one always in trouble!”

Flynn waves it off, snorting, “It was only a single ship!”

“A warship- and you knocked the captain out and stuffed him in a shed,” Mathias adds, beginning to carry his husband away, Asch can hear them bicker as they go, and suddenly she is all alone again. The guards are her shadows, but she is isolated in a city full of people. Many citizens are excited to see her, and she smiles as her father taught her, the parks here were small and rarely used by its people, some few mages were studying in the grass, but even their peace was chased away when she entered, the guards having none of strangers. Asch’s protests die in her chest, she wants to see people, not be so alone, but with eight honor guards hiding her from sight at all sides, she feels it and knows nothing will ever change, even if she asks, they will not budge, they’ve no reason to listen to their Beta Queen, and especially not if it concerns her safety in a strange city.

Asch stares at the flowers, finding them beautiful companions, she doesn’t know how long she sits there, but after some long moments- maybe even an hour, there is another person, bold enough to tread into the line of her guard. “Queen Asch.” It’s informally formal, and it is Lor’themar of all who could be so bold.

“Lord Regent.” She breathes and can see the elegant metalwork of his shoulder and the knot of his hair beyond her wall of guardsmen, “Might we speak, if only a moment?”

“Yes, of course.” She says in a hurry, “Guards please.” They hesitate- they always hesitate, but they move stiffly, allowing him a small gap to enter through. Lor’themar is impeccably dressed, no longer in ship leathers and simple comforts, now he wears a regal plate and silk battle cloth. Asch has her own armor, a lady’s armor.

Her dress is fine silk, the cut high but pleases across her chest and arms, the color is a soft sea blue, a lighter color of her house as Lor’themar is a dark reminder of his own. Asch rises, and curtsies, a pleasantly he shares with her, bowing his handsome head.

“I’m terribly sorry.” She says, reminding them both of the unfortunate way Wrathion behaved. Lor’themar smiles, “You are kind to apologize for a slight that is not your own.”

“As Queen, it was my own. He is my advisor.” She says, shrugging delicately.

“Is he just?” Lor’themar quests, eying her face with his single good, green eye. Asch feels her heart in her throat, jumping wildly with an untamed beat that makes her nearly dizzy. “Just what?” She manages, her fingers shaking under the loop bell of her long sleeves. Lor’themar dips his head forward, it’s useless, but he whispers, “Just your advisor.”

Asch freezes, the flashes of his face between her legs coloring her cheeks, Lor’themar’s lips work, watching her, “I see,” He says, a smirk quirking the corner of his mouth up, “I was battling for a hand already won.”

Asch breathes nosily, trying to gain herself again, “My hand i-is n-no ones!” She protests, but her mouth feels numb without his lips. Lor’themar tilts his head, “Something’s happened between the two of you.”

“Nothing has happened.” Asch spits, the anger she feels for Wrathion carrying her words, “We are nothing.”

Lor’themar hums carefully, “I see.” He says, “That explains his… activities.” His chasing of Omega’s, he means. Asch cranes her head tall, not taller than Lor’themar, but trying to remain commanding as, “Battling for my hand?” She asks, not forgetting his words, “A Queen isn’t a prize.” At this, he at least seems embarrassed, she ignores how his romantic phrase- how the Alpha possessiveness makes her belly warm again.

“Apologies.” He mutters, ashamed.

Asch licks her lips, her heart sore, “My hand is… something you want?” She should not do this to herself, not with the opposite faction- not with an Alpha. “Your father wanted to honor the tradition mine and your people shared, long ago.” Lor’themar peers at the ground, examining it heavily, “It was in this very city, that we bartered to make our once prosperous alliance whole again.”

Asch, as they all were, is reminded of the events long ago- the events she had not seen but had been told of, while she and Anduin were flying about Pandaria two careless children, Lor’themar was losing his people. “Varian Wrynn could not accomplish that, but his daughter could yet still.”

Asch is struck by his- his proposal, it dries her mouth and steals her heart, “I am only human.” She says, sadly and not without good sense, he is an elf, he will long outlast her, Lor’themar smiles softly, “Rhonin was too only human.”

“That is different-“ She protests, “Is it?” Lor’themar asks, watching her, cautiously he takes a step closer, crowding her against the bench, and his broadness, “I won’t force you, nor begrudge your decision.” He pauses, lifting his hand to caress her jaw, smoothing his rough fingers over her soft skin, “Your heart is fond of him.”

“My heart is my own.” Asch hisses weakly, Lor’themar continues to smile, “You would not protest an offer of marriage peace were it true.” Wouldn’t she?

“I protest nothing,” Asch utters, nibbling her cheek, “It’s not my heart but my council.” She snaps, not at him, but at the politicking, “Oh?” He pipes, continuing to touch her, “And a Black Dragon is a wiser decision?” Asch sighs, tilting her face away from his hand, “He is not a consideration.”

“And neither am I,” Lor’themar adds, Asch narrows her eyes, huffing quietly, “A political nightmare, more the like.” Lor’themar grins, an Alpha interested in the challenge, “Ah, so I am.”

Asch looks at his face, and admires the handsomeness there, “So you are.”

 

 

Chapter 204: Wrathion ABO dabbles 6

Summary:

Someone take me away from my miserable pile of notes and word.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Lor’themar Theron’s proposal is a terrible idea, and still a greatly considered one. Mathias says no, while Genn councils yes. The arguing is loud and spirited, he is Horde, he is elf, he is Alpha. Mathias said, he is wise, he is reasonable, he is Alpha.

It was both a curse and a blessing that he is Alpha, and they both agree that is it good as it is bad.

After the accosting Lor’themar did, it was no surprise that the masses discovered he’d proposed. It wasn’t a grand sort of gossip, but it was the most interesting of things to happen in the leg of their tour. Lor’themar was wholly unapologetic of the affair. Another no doubt small political measure, he so old and savvy in its ways. Genn claimed it as it was, a device to force their hand, for who would deny Lord Regent? The instrument behind the fourth war’s peace alongside her brother? The High Queen could hardly refuse such a thing.

“You forget.” Mathias snarls, the last of his good patience running out, “She is an Omega.

Genn’s spirits are dampened, “And he an Alpha, yes this I know- but think of the stability for the Alliance! This is no offer to pass lightly.” Mathias seems wholly content to do so, slam the door in his handsome face, and be done with him. “She would lose the regency of her own people! To him!” He hisses, “To any Alpha that would call her Omega!”

“Let her meet with him- be seen with him, and w will gauge the people’s reaction.” Genn implores, hopeful begging on his part, but it is the sound thing to do. Mathias narrows his eyes but speaks no protest, and that is the moment Genn celebrates his success.

Surely, a lapse in judgement allows for this, but she stands with her hair in large, long curls down her back and a dress that was more for his own people than hers. Its red did not suit her pale skin, but its lavish and embroidered with golden embellishments that twinkle in the sun and gleam in the shade. Lor’themar sees her and pauses to appreciate the dedication and the beauty.

“My Queen.” He says, smartly, in front of her rabid dogs, Genn, the looming father, and Mathias the murderous assassin that seems to know every which way he might kill him with bare hands and ruin the hard-fought peace they’ve had- on the tour to celebrate it. “Lord regent.” They bow to one another in a perfect ark and curtsy with sweeping elegance.

Asch giggles, because she cannot help herself, even with his gnarled eye and cut face he is utterly graceful and offers his arm to her as any gentleman would. “Where might you be taking the High Queen of the Alliance?” Mathias asks, annoyance in his voice.

“Nowhere without you, Spymaster.” Lor’themar tilts his head in respect, “But as for location, I thought the Shadowlands a fitting journey.” He looks to her now, “Have you seen its splendor, My Queen?”

“Please, Asch.” She offers, and to her delight, he says, “Lor’themar.” He’s a storybook prince with his flourish and sweetness, “No, I have not.”

“Come and I will gladly show you.”

The do not plan to leave Oribos as Lor’themar informs her, and Mathias, but it was plenty enough to see this, the endless, vast sky before the grand hold. The sight alone of the endless souls finding judgment is breathtaking. Asch is beholden to the brightness, her eyes filling with the sight, “What do you think, Asch?” He asks from her side.

Asch cannot move from the edge, Mathias sweats not far behind them, “I feel… weightless.” She says, reaching out to touch the sky, feeling the heaviness surrounding them. Lor’themar chuckles warmly, cradling her arm in his own where it sits on his forearm, “I could walk this circle a hundred times and never grow tired of this sight.” She says, “What a gift this is, thank you Lor’themar.”

“There is more to see, my dear lady.” Lor’themar prods her back onto his side, ushering her along the path full of merchants with strange faces of flame and their wears. He offers guidance to each of the portals, showing her the ferries to Revendrath, to Bastion, to Ardenweald, and finally Maldraxxus.

Its then, when he takes her to the last, the glittering portal of Bastion, does she stop them, and wonders; “Do you think my father is here?” Lor’themar is gentle with her heart, tender, and kind whereas Wrathion was terrible and brash, “Yes Asch, I know not where- might you wish me to find him?” tears fill her eyes at his suggestion, the thought of seeing her father-

“No,” she sighs, saddened, but sure, “He would not be happy I’m dwelling in the past.” Lor’themar smiles softly, his face tightened with pain and something more, she looks at him, grateful of him. “You said souls are weighed and placed where they belong?” She asks, and he nods, “Where might you think you will go? Where I might?”

Lor’themar blows a breath out into the expansion of sky, staring up at the ferry portal in thought, “You my lady, surely to Bastion, for you are light and noble; Bastion is for purposeful souls, kind and steadfast. Me?” He wrinkles his nose, “Maldraxxus, surely, too old to give in the fight.”

Asch laughs at him, and shakes her head, Lor’themar peers at her, Alpha’s, “You helped us attain peace.”

“That I did.” Lor’themar hums, “You might be sent to Revendrath,” Asch teases, tapping his upper arm, near to purring at the hard flex of his muscle, “Prideful thing.” Lor’themar chuckles abruptly, “Hm.” He grunts fondly, “Am I sinful too, my Lady?”

Asch swallows, her lips falling open slightly, “A-Are you, My Lord?” Lor’themar’s one green eye pins onto her face, a heat rising in them only Alpha’s can muster, “I could be.” He offers playfully, “I could show you.” His growl tickles her spine, there is a flash of dark hair, and a devilish smirk, and her vision is swimming with red before she is snapped to the present, and soft pale lips meet her own in a gentle, careful kiss.

Lor’themar is warm, his mouth is soft, plump against her own, Asch leans up into his kiss, its wholly opposite of Wrathion, this one is cherishing, promising, not ruining and claiming. Lor’themar tilts his chin down to sever the kiss, “Forgive me that indulgence.” He mutters, his nose firm, slipping along her own like waves lapping at the shore. 

“Forgiven,” she whispers, capturing his mouth with her own again, relishing the perk of surprise and the rumble in his chest.

“My Queen.” Mathias warns, Lor’themar laughs against her mouth, the kiss wrecked, “Apologies, Spymaster.” He offers but hardly seems sorry for it. Mathias grunts, “We’ve been away for some time.” He warns, not at all charmed by the sight. “Ah, so we have.” Lor’themar decides, nodding, “Might I return you, my Queen?” He makes her smile.

Lor’themar kisses her hand in the portal room of Dalaran, bowing to her and leaving in confident strides. Mathias sweeps into the gap he creates, tilting his head into her space, “He… seems.” Mathias pauses to find the right word, but the silence elapses between them.

Asch worries her lip, and the dress feels scratchy against her skin, the taste of passion lingers on her mouth, but it doesn’t alight the same fire in her chest, “He isn’t him.”

Mathias sighs, and rubs up her back, caressing her into his side, holding her like her father, “No one will be.”

 

Notes:

Also, I know that anyone aka Varian, who is destroyed by Fel magic cannot come back, but Lor'themar was being kind to her. So that isn't me making a flub, that was on purpose shielding of a poor girl missing her father and hiding an ugly truth.

Chapter 205: Wrathion Abo dabbles 7

Summary:

Shout out to my lovely lovely Elowinn for helping me breathe life into this story with her ideas. <3

Chapter Text

It’s a betrayal, to find out this way, he thinks, to be the last to know and the worst for it. Wrathion stalks the halls, his fuming ire smoke in his nose, huffing it out in dark bursts, his horns stuck heavily to his head that he has no control to alter- to hide. His nails are twice the length and the scales black as coal litter his body in patches of unrefined char.

He does not find Asch in her apartments, crazy enough to attempt a screaming match- because he must yell at something for this foolery, to entertain a marriage between the High Queen of the Alliance and Lord Regent of the Sin’dorei.

It was madness.

Not solely for the fact he was an Alpha.

Instead, he finds Mathias sitting patiently in her borrowed desk chair, reading- as though he expected Wrathion.

“She is not here.” He says, not looking up from his book. “Clearly.” Wrathion bites, glaring petulantly at the spymaster. “I won’t tell you where she is.” He says again airily. Wrathion bites his cheek to calm himself from shifting into the full force of his true form, certain it could topple this building and all inside. “She is with him, then.” He surmises, smelling the Alpha’s drying scent in the curtains, cloying there like filth unchecked.

“You cannot stop it.” Mathias finally places his book down atop the desk, folding his hands over the face, histories of Kings and their children. It read, Wrathion bristles, “You cannot think it’s a good idea.”

Mathias shrugs, “As if you are any better?”

Anything is better, they are your enemies- he is an Alpha, and you want the Horde to have her as their pawn.” Wrathion spits flecks of fire from his mouth, uncaring if it takes the tinder that is the floor, “Or had you never considered that possibility?!”

Mathias, for all he is, her father figure, her man, her everything since she was a child, merely shrugs, “I’ve considered everything.”

Wrathion throws his hands up, his claws black and menacing, “And so?”

“And so,” Mathias nods, “I’ve considered everything.”

“Start making sense, now.” His Alpha growl is warped with his voice, Mathias crosses one leg over the other, resting one hand flat on the face of the book, “This will not come to pass, she will marry a Beta man, but I am happy to let her spend this time with Lor’themar Theron.”

Why?!” Wrathion demands, his teeth sharp in his mouth and pinching his mortal flesh and filling his mouth with flows of blood from the little punctures, “Because she will marry a Beta man, have a son and secure the next line of succession, and remain a Beta Queen.” Mathias says lowly, quietly, and sadly. “Anonymity intact.”

Wrathion’s face twitches, “Anduin will return.”

Mathias smirks, a scoffing laugh escaping his mouth, “Will he? Optimism looks good on you, Dragon.” Wrathion frowns, Mathias doesn’t look at him, “Yes then, he may return, but that changes nothing.” Mathias looks across the room, stares at the sun setting in the open window, watching the curtains waft in the slight wind, “Stay away from her.” He says, “I won’t tell you again.”

“I am her advisor.” Wrathion spits, Mathias’ eyes nail him to the very spot he stands, “She cries at night because of you.” It hurts more than a sword in the belly.

Wrathion does not see her for days, and makes no attempt to be near her into those days, not at any dinners, not in meetings, the only moment they have is one none can help, they venture to Pandaria, and its all a formality they meet, a mindful journey to the temple of the white tiger, where they will all sign the last of the document, and spend a few days pretending to like each other.

Mathias watches him, but Wrathion stays in the shadows, polite with the Horde and silent to the rest, she’s a beautiful thing, her dresses so elaborate and utterly too much, but she is Queen, the only stable ruler among them, and she must look the part.

Her hair is curled at the bottom, going past her hips in a free fall of silken snow he wishes to run his fingers through once more, admires the scent clinging to her skin under the poison they feed her to keep all at bay who have no sensible nose to speak of. She smells like Anduin, a softer sweetgrass and lily, the undertones of her brother- of her family there among the stench of Lor’themar Theron, who has taken to the Alliance side like a traitor, worming into a place he does not belong-

A place he too doesn’t belong. He cannot be king; he should not be king.

They enter the vast hall, and Wrathion needs not take part in this ceremony, the signing, nor all the rest of it. Instead, he goes outside, the cold air nips his face in a comforting way, and a long and known feeling washes over him, Pandaria, he has many memories of this place, many good and many worse. That very room was where the trial took place, the one he prevented, he reflects a little- only as much as the other, because it is not in his nature to look upon the past and regret his choices, they’ve brought him here, ill, and miserable, maybe, but he lives to change that.

The snow reminds him of her, everything reminds him of her lately, and it’s only grown worse now that Mathias no longer makes idle threats, Wrathion sighs, watching his breath shadow in the cold, whisper, and dissipate in the chilled air. He remembers the way her hair framed her face in a wild rush, how her chest heaved in her dress, the flush around her cheeks.

Wrathion scrapes his fingers into his eyes, willing the image away until his vision is black and painful, he should resign come their return, he’s useless now as is, nothing would please her Spymaster more if he was away, and nothing would mend his heart better than to be gone from her sight.

Wrathion looks over his shoulder, he can see her in the swell of all of them, her shoulders were ridged, the same way Anduin’s were too, both carrying heavy burdens without complaint or allowance, Anduin is not here. Wrathion could hate him quietly for that, for leaving without a word- a goodbye. He’d left no instruction to his poor sister.

You’ll leave my sister alone. Anduin’s warning echoes in his head, it felt like so many years ago- it had been so many years. Three or four now. She’s an Omega. Wrathion had never smelt one before, not for lack of want. Anduin scowled at him, even with the baby face he was vicious as his lion father. No one knows, she’s not safe. I must keep her safe.

You left her all by her lonesome. Wrathion has bitter feelings too, Anduin might have his moral grounds, but he left. With no one left, it was his duty, she grew up scared, grew up to believe she should hide, or some fat Alpha would steal her away from her home. And those cunts would let one. Mathias would be broken about it, but it was what is done. Genn for all his bluster might rattle the cage, hiss, and quake the ground, but let her go because it’ll be a scandal now.

You should have your sister and yourself far from this fucking place.

“What do you mean gone?” He can recall the tears in her eyes, having lost him to the maw, and then to death magic, and again to his own choice, gone from her life, from his duty as if it was easy to leave. Asch smiles now, a dazzling kind that’s offered to Horde and Alliance alike, the front of her dress holds two hanging blue tails- they were pieces from Anduin’s armor. “Thank you,” she says, capturing his attention again, “Thank you all for prolonging this peace. I know that Anduin would be gladdened to see the effort we have all offered to keep it.”

You speak as though he’s dead. Wrathion swallows, seeing her sadness, “No matter what might come, Stormwind and I its Queen, will always remain your ally.” She curtsies deeply to all of them, and they in turn drop to the floor for her, knees knocking to the stone in a show of faith. It is not his intent, but once the bodies surrounding her shrink, their eyes meet, his own large and seeking, hers shocked and still.

Wrathion does the one thing he can muster and tilts his head to respect the Queen.

There is dinner ready for them all after in the great hall, but he is not interested in mortal food or the company surrounding the fires, “Tell me something,” Thalyssra, the Alpha Nightborne mage leans upon a pillar with a near-empty glass of some dark wine clasped daintily in her hand, “There is you, and Ebyssian, and that is all that remains of your flight?”

Wrathion indulges the conversation, nodding as he looks out into the darkened mountaintops, “And my uncle, Ifarian, the Lord of our flight.”

“The lord of all three of you?” She laughs, and Wrathion hums, “Yes.” Never mind whatever children he’s sired, but that is not hers to know. “Dance with me and tell me all that entails.”

Wrathion does not refuse the woman, he does not want to be rude and noticed, so he lets her take him into the outer corner of the dance floor, near where the fire cannot reach them quite and leads them in a simple dance that does not match the song, he’s too tired to follow the mortal customs. Thalyssra does not seem to mind, “What is being lord of a flight mean, precisely?”

“It means much the same that it does to you mortals, his decisions govern us, and we follow his order as one might a king.” Wrathion divulges, keeping his eyes low and occupied, “You’ve no Aspects anymore, might he have been one?”

“No, that was Neltharion, my grandfather.” He says, spinning them slightly, holding her close despite the stink of wine and arcane magic and whatever else this Alpha smells like under all of it, some strange flower that makes his teeth hurt, “Ifarian was his first son, so he is Earth warder, protector of Azeroth.” Thalyssra laughs, “Protector? Hm.”

Wrathion frowns, glaring thinly, about to open his mouth when she cheers, “Swap!” and she is gone from his hands and another is in her place, Tyrande Whisperwind is taller than he, and does not like that he leads, but allows it for the short time they remain, the boom of the drums signal another dance partner, and he is met with Moria, who twirls and dances next to him, too short for the rest of it.

Only after her is he faced with the inevitable doom that is the High Queen, spun into his hands like a red thread of fate finding its other end. Asch pauses stunned she’s come into his hands. Wrathion removes himself, limp fingers twitching at his side, warm where her own had touched him unaware. “You might find a better partner.” He offers, the song elapsing into another, far too intimate one for his liking. “N-No that’s… all right,” Asch mutters, swallowing, Wrathion offers his hand, and she slides past it up his arms to clasp his shoulder, awaiting him. Wrathion steels himself, knowing he tried and can die knowing that when Mathias comes for his throat. “As you say.” He runs his hand across her waist, cradling her back, under all that hair was a soft silk dress, his palm already feels sweaty, the other cups her hand, he ignores how nicely they fit, and begins to sway them to the stings of the song.

It’s all too easy to get lost, get too close, and he’s unaware when it happened, but her chest presses into his own, and her cheeks are pinkened, she holds him tighter, as though unwilling to let him go. Wrathion spins her in his arms, turning so that his back is to the crowd, the drum beats steadily, and the violin strings a high wanting melody.

Asch picks her head up from staring at their feet, her lips brushing his own with how close they’ve become, she sucks in a breath, her eyes glancing quickly to his face and back to his mouth. Wrathion tilts his chin down, keeping his distance, swallowing painfully. Asch leans near, arching up of her own accord- but-

But the song ends, and Wrathion tears himself away, swift and stilted as he leaves before anyone can stop him.

It’s nonsense where he goes, using the wall to support himself because his eyes fail him. “Wrathion?” Damn it-

“Go away from me, Asch.” He warns, shoulders hiked around his ears, “Are you well?” She asks instead, not heeding his warning- like she’s never heeded anything in her life. “I am fine.” He says between his teeth, she cries at night because of you. “Find your Regent Lord, he must miss your presence.” He grinds out, turning his teeth to dust.

“Wrathion-“ she touches him, and he can no longer hold himself from his bad decisions and desperate wants. He whirls around with speed she cannot hope to follow, and engulfs her in his presence, clasping her small waist in his hands and yanking her to his mouth, making her gasp into his mouth and allowing his tongue access. The passion is loud as the blood in his ears, consuming him like his own fire. Asch grasps his coat, bending to his kiss without any fight, pressing for more from him.

It's messy, his lips seeking, tongue laving at her teeth, she tastes like the cherry cakes dinner, and tart wine. Wrathion’s eyes flutter open, parting just enough to allow her gulping breathes, the flush is so pretty in the darkened hall, Mathias is hunched in the corner just far enough from the torch that no mortal could see him, but Wrathion does, and Mathias knows he does.

“Find your Regent lord,” He says again, pushing her away, holding her waist steady in his hands before parting from her completely, “And consider this my resignation.”

“What?” She says, dizzily, “Wrathion-“ He does not wait and takes off in a flurry, and this time he is not content to be found, leaping from the balcony not far and emerging from the smoke and snow as his true form, beating his wings fast in flight and not looking back.

Chapter 206: Wrathion ABO dabbles 8

Summary:

Real life got me there for a while, but I'm back with more of my dragon garbage. Please enjoy.

Chapter Text

Asch stares out the window, the cold drying her tears. She wants to go home. But home was a hollow place, the castle too big and not enough life to fill it. Her father took so much space it felt like drowning upon entrance, the warm swath of fire and dirt, of determination and the safety of father. Anduin’s was a light kind of weight; one no one could mind and was comfortable having pressed to their chest, she misses his embrace, the feeling of knowing he is there, and he would keep her safe.

Now she is alone, And consider this my resignation.

Well and truly alone.

Wrathion was a presence that captured her mind, her senses since the moment her brother went missing, he had been the one to stand there and tell her, wildly inappropriate of him, Genn should have done it, even Mathias might have been better, but there was a strange thing twisting between them, Genn and Mathias allowed it to pass, their heads hung in sadness.

“My Queen?” Mathias’ voice is muffled through the wood, “It’s time to depart.” Asch stares into the mountains, the image of Wrathion fleeing in her mind, and fixes her skirts. “Yes, of course.”

She had not gotten the chance to meet properly with Mayla Highmountain, too stricken with upset to find herself in good spirits for anything, even denying Lor’themar and his sweet ideas. She sees him again, his face soft and worried, he comes to her as everyone begins to say their farewells. “My Queen.” He dips his head, allowing the indulgence of kissing her hand, Asch smiles, offering her best while he is sincerest.

“Lord Regent.” They’ve returned to utterly too formal names, it breaks her heart a little when his face falls as if he expected her to say Lor’themar, just as she had days past. “Might I have a single moment, before you leave?”

Asch no longer seeks permission from Mathias, and takes his arm, she cannot be a child forever. Lor’themar leads her toward to entrance of the great temple, allowing them the pleasant sight of the gathering clouds over the mountains, the fresh snow falling through the grounds and all those training in the yards below. “I have been rather foolish,” He says, “Attempting to take that which is not mine.”

Asch frowns at him quickly, “I am no ones-“ He cups her cheek to silence her, a saddened knowing smile across his handsome face, “The dragon has your heart, and selfish I would be to interfere with a destiny like that.” Lor’themar presses his nose onto her own, the loss is heavy in her mouth, and she reaches to comfort the grieving Alpha, but he takes a large step back, shaking his head, “Be well, Asch.”

Utterly alone.

Mathias quirks his brow, and has, too struck to speak, watches Lor’themar go with a sadness in her chest, new and fresh as the old and stale. It matched the harm Anduin’s departure had, and coupled nicely with Wrathion’s exit. Asch regards herself, staring at the litter of missing people in her life, and sighs toward Mathias, who knows and offers a gentle kind of smile.

He is still here.

Gen goes first, and she goes next, portals make her head hurt and her vision is stunned and dark, surely, she is in the way of Mathias, and stumbles forward to not collide, but a chill of utter cold teases her spine, she slips, falling ungracefully onto the ice-

Ice?

Asch rubs her eyes harshly with the heels of her palm, grinding them into the sockets until they hurt, blinking once and then twice at the surrounding area, before her is the swell of a cave, its insides carved by water and folded over in layers of thick sheets covering old rock. Asch breathes, staring at the tendrils of smoke dissipating from her mouth.

Her chest wants to panic, for this was no Stormwind, and the Portal is gone, but she does not, the Queen hauls herself up, shivering slightly as her dress is not heavy enough for such weather, and too airy around her arms. Asch moves, carefully, examining the surroundings, there was a tunnel, dark and rising, Asch skims the wall with her hand, guiding herself up the cool shaft until there is dull light to the opening.

Inside was cold, but here it is worse, Asch shakes violently at the bitter cold, the wind whipping her face and nearly knocking her into the snow. Asch retreats, unable to see anything in the blizzard, sliding back down into the cool, but far warmer cave.

Asch calms her breath, curling her big sleeves into her body, Mathias cautioned keeping her center as warm as possible, so she rubs her ribs with chilled fingers, looking for anything, but finding nothing. The portal teachings Jaina schooled her in would take her from this place, with white fingers, Asch concentrates on her conjuring and awaits the glow of the portal to rise before stepping through.

Asch comes through and returns as though she’d just gone in a circle, turned around, and faced with the same sight of dank cave. Asch breathes, her lip trembling, again. Her mind begins to fret and panic, the alarm is already assuredly raised, Mathias and Genn furious and worried sick, she conjures again, and rushes through, and slides on the ice again, slipping and skidding.

“Ah-“ Asch gasps, eyes coming wide, she can’t get home.

Mathias peers left, and then right, and narrows his eyes, “My Queen?” He calls, Genn looks behind him, confused, eyes wide. “Asch?!” He belts, informally, the guards among them stir, a restless- scared defense rising with their naked hands. “Where is she?!” Mathias yells, “Where is the High Queen?!”

When none answer, Mathias grits his teeth, a fury unmatched, “Get me a portal to Boralus- now!”

Mathias summons himself without an invitation to Jaina, the massive town of Kul Tiras a sight to behold, but he cares little of the sights right now, his agenda hardly a peaceful visit. His mind is single, narrowing to the one thing he knows, storming to the castle with all but himself- security the utmost paramount. No one can know. Mathias doesn’t even recognize that he passes his husband and mate to get to Jaina’s inner sanctum. Promoted to a Royal navy man, his presence is important in the castle, 

“Mathias?!” Flynn squeaks, surprised to see him, rushing to catch up, “What’s going on?”

Alpha irritation flares to life before Mathias can stop it, “Quiet!” He snaps, with no regard, a hand nabs him, and yanks him still, “Excuse you?” Flynn bites back, his lips peeling back to expose his small fangs. Mathias breathes, eyes squeezing shut, “Somethings happened.” He says, vaguely. Flynn glares, “I’m sorry. Come, I cannot say this here.”

Flynn allows him to recede from his grasp, nodding faintly as he struggles to follow, “Jaina!” Mathias calls coming p to her office, taking two steps at a time. Jaina, her face as weary and lined as his own stares with great confusion at the sight before her. Some nobles and officials crowd her, but his expression is pointed and grave.

“Leave us, please.” Jaina requests, her fingers losing grip on the parchments she had in her hands, they fall toward her desk, and the crowd around her give odd looks, but do as bid with minimal displeasure. Mathias does not speak until he can hear the crowd half down the stairs, counting all seven feet away and no lingering, gossipy nobles remain.

“What’s going on?” Jaina asks, carefully contained, but Mathias can see she’s worried.

“Asch is missing, we came through the portal, and she never arrived with us,” Mathias says in a rush of hushed words. Flynn gasps in anguish, Jaina stiffens, her eyes wide, “I made it myself- how?!”

“I do not know; I was hoping you could tell me.” Mathias quells his rage, his fingers twitching to grasp something and choke the life from its veins, he’d lost her- he lost them both. “Someone must have interfered with her travel- everyone else made it to Stormwind?” Jaina asks, Mathias nods curtly, and for a moment the silence is stunned, Jaina occupies her hands with magic, trying to decipher something beyond Mathias’ understanding.

“The arcane signatures are all the same.” Jaina mutters, worrying her lip until it bled, “Someone must have tampered with her… have you gotten any demands? Threats?” Mathias pales, “None, I came here without pause.”

Jaina nods, and begins casting, “Who knows?”

Mathias awaits the portal, entering swiftly with Flynn at his back and Jaina last, “Just Genn, us, and the guards escorting.” Genn has gathered all of them into the council chambers, the guards miserably chastised, gripping their weapons in shame. “Anything?” Flynn pipes up, wringing his hands.

“Nothing, it’s as if she disappeared.” Genn’s voice is rough, the old wolf hiding his tears in the fur around his face, excusing his appearance for rage rather than sorrow like Mathias knew it to be. Just like Anduin. “She hasn’t, Genn.” Jaina tries, but it is no use, King Greymane has already had ample time to blame himself, just the same as when Anduin was taken before his eyes.

“We need to speak frankly.” Jaina urges, eyeing the guards sidelong, Mathias nods, “Guards, go- and act as though everything is unchanged.” He pauses, eying them with great scrutiny, “And it will not be exposed that our Queen is missing.” His voice is low and angry, dark in a way they flinch.

“Sir, yes Sir!” they say in unison, shuffling out.

“Do you truly think they will keep silent?” Jaina asks, head tilted curiously. Mathias shrugs, “No, but better that secret than the latter.”

“Could someone have known?” Jaina says, “Could that be why she was taken?” Mathias toys with the possibility, it makes his belly twist in agony, and an awful thought comes to pass, “It could be, I fear the thought.”

“Who knows?” Jaina inquires again, clutching her staff tightly in her fist. “That she is an Omega?”

“Only us.” Mathias answers, then scowls, “Wrathion. Wrathion knows.”

“And?” Jaina asks, “What?” She says in confusion.

“She spurned him, more than once,” Mathias answers, gripping the hilts of his daggers to keep his hands still, “He is young, Alpha, and entitled.” Mathias spits, his mouth curling around his teeth, “And he wanted her.” Jaina blows a breath, “And you think he could have done this?”

Mathias nods without pause, “He is arrogant enough.”

“He must be found, then,” Flynn says, grumpily, arms crossed tightly, “Where is he?”

“He resigned.” Mathias grunts and Flynn scoffs, a disbelieving laugh escaping him. “Fits all too well, doesn’t it? He resigns, the Queen goes missing- he’s a pompous give me Alpha?” Mathias hums, “I’ll find him.”

Flynn shakes his head, “We’ll find him, love.” Flynn juts his chin toward Jaina and Genn, “We’ll find her.”

 

 

Chapter 207: Wrathion ABO Dabbles 9

Summary:

Ahem. another one. Mic drop.
Im enjoying Dragonflight! hope those who play are as well!

Chapter Text

Mathias has many spies in his employ, all of them were scouring the globe for Wrathion. Flynn and he were a sharp and witty team, they would take the most important locations, a day to slink through Blackwing decent, a favored location of Black dragons, with nothing but dust and rats, and bones of picked corpses. The next, Blackwing Lair, they are met with the same.

Mathias then makes a gamble, betting another day wasted on Wrathion remaining sentimental and returning to his father’s lair.

And there are lucky, to find him crouched between the rivers of lava, “I was waiting for you.” Wrathion says, rising, looking along the bones of a dragon long dead. Mathias raises out from the shadows, Flynn following suit, clutching his weaponry in distrusting hands. “I knew you were following me since your trip to Blackwing Decent.”

“I don’t care.” Mathias snarls, he shoves himself forward, sliding down the raised hill onto the bed of warm stone. Wrathion stands on the rise between two falls of lava, the spits of molten flame sizzling the ground, eroding it away with each drop. “I’m not coming back.” Wrathion adds, boredly.

“Where is she?” Mathias hisses, pulling his daggers from his belt, and aiming them in violence. Wrathion turns slowly, tilting his head, a great, angry frown across his face. “What do you mean, Spymaster?” He uses the title mockingly.

Mathias has no spare patience for him, or this, “Where is she, Wrathion?” He asks again, “If you bit her-“

“Bit her?!” Wrathion spouts, his brow grave and scrunched, “What-“

“Enough!” Mathias shouts, his teeth aching as he clenches them, his body working in rage, fear- Asch his little- Mathias swings dangerously, his steps a shadow as he reaches Wrathion, digging the blades forward, “That’s my little girl!” He yells, his bellow absolute, a fearsome thing that pollutes the cavern with noise. Wrathion barely blocks the blows, his scimitar coming to his aid as Mathias swings with vicious, murderous intent.

“Mathias?!” Wrathion gasps in shock, swagger gone and replaced with bewilderment and fear, “Stop!” he tries, but the Spymaster has no ears for it, and they come to blows again and again, the older man beating him back with better skill and far more rage. Wrathion dodges a killing blow, and snarls in fury, his form changing in a belt of smoke, his mighty claw slamming down onto Mathias, with greater weight and sudden strength Mathias claps to the ground.

“Mathias!” Flynn yelps, rushing down.

“Enough!” Wrathion snarls, “What is going on?!”

Mathias struggles to speak, but Wrathion does not let him free of his grasp, Flynn hastily answers, fear in his chest for his Alpha, “Asch! Just give Asch back!” He cries out, legs wobbling under him. Wrathion’s long face scrunches, his expression gnarled and strange, in another great whirl of smoke, he returns to his visage, horror, and confusion clouding his youthful face, “I do not have her.” He says measured, “You thought I- that I stole your Queen?” He says, and then adds, “She’s missing?!” The upset is an odd sight to Flynn, the dragon sinking quickly into utter distraught, the smell unbearable. Mathias coughs, turning onto his side, spitting blood from his mouth before he rises unsteadily, “Shaw.” Wrathion barks in demand.

Mathias’ eyes slip shut, “Yes. She’s missing.”

Wrathion cries out in rage.

Asch knows her body growing tired means it’s desperate want to give, to lay and close her eyes and never awaken in the cold dark, but she presses on, the snow did not last, but the chill had. It became hard and dark in the wake of snow and sleet, and the sky mellow and low, darkness seeping to gnash at the land. Asch was careful to stick walls, and abate the cold from one side, the snow was lowly and cold, and the further she got the less it clung to the stone and sand.

On one side were mountains, the other a vast ocean, no land marls of any kind save the very foggy tops of each mountain, but she wasn’t versed in geography, uninterested in her lessons as a girl, and could not tell apart from looking at them. Asch could not tell anything, she could not understand the ocean before her, nor the ground beneath her, and the day had grown late again, elapsing into the night, and she could not turn back to the cave, much too far and much too lost.

Asch would freeze before dying of hunger, and her merger stores of mana were draining, another thing she never practiced, and her father would be ashamed of her. Anduin had all the skill, and the patience, but she never found a discipline she quite took to as fast as Anduin. Priesthood looked fine on him, but it was never anything she could master, the devotion alone- the lie she carried weighed her soul down, she could never become one.

Her father was a warrior, a man of passion and action, of violence. Asch could never exert the force necessary, not the rage or thrill for battle like he had once. The magical arts Aunt Jaina was so apt with took years of dutiful practice, a love for strange sciences and arts of mystery, but Jaina could teach, had none of the time, and Asch had none of the time to learn.

There were no arts she could call her own, and it made her vulnerable, and utterly pathetic. “My lady- are you lost?” A voice calls, a strange echoing melody. Asch squeezes her arm closer to her chest, curling into her own embrace, her head swiveling at the sound of another. The man- a human! His ears were dulled behind a black good, blackened hair pulled back inside the hood, with a single streak stuck to his handsome, but thin face.

“I-I seem to be.” Asch offers, a chill in her voice, curling slightly away from the stranger, “Might you tell me, Sir, where I am?” She asks, begging hope that he could tell her. “You look half frozen, here my lady.” He unpins the cloak from his shoulders, curling it off in a sway of cloth. He wore plate under the bulk of the brown scrape. Its onyx metal shimmered in the dull light of the evening; a gleam of danger tickles up her skin. 

The man notices, and carefully bends, tossing the clock toward her, coming no closer than half a step, “This is a dangerous place, my lady.” He gestures to himself, offering an explanation, “I’ll not harm you; you have my word.”

His eyes glittered in the unnatural light, the strangeness to them, the burnt umber, and odd slice of black pupil, the regal rust brown of his body, now offered to the gloom of the shore. “You’re a dragon,” Asch says carefully, stiffly holding still despite the cloak not two steps away. The man perks in surprise, those eyes, an oddly reminiscent gleam. “Yes… my lady.” He mutters, impressed, “Yes I… am.”

“Did Wrathion send you?” Asch asks, watching him, dissecting his face- her brother was best at his devotion, and her father was a warrior unparalleled, but she-

She was a politician.

She can see the slight tilt in his mouth, the liven blaze in his eyes, “He did, my lady.” He says calmly, and Asch knows that to be a lie, Wrathion remained one of three black dragons, and cautioned no trust to be offered to any others.

“What might I call you?” Asch asks, smiling kindly despite her suspicions, “Melarion, if it pleases you, my lady.” Melarion makes two mistakes, his first, easily discerned, My Lady. Wrathion dislikes as much as he likes her station and has never addressed her as anything but Queen. Even when he’s upset with her, or wishing to make a point, never my lady.

And the second, she knows is pompous and arrogant, too absurdly pigheaded, but when something concerned her, it would be Wrathion only to come, and none else. And he is neither Ifarian nor Ebyssian.

She must be very careful.

“Melarion.” She tests the name, smiling nicely, he sniffles the air, but she knows him to be an Alpha, as he knows her to be an Omega- dragons and their noses, Wrathion and his boasts. Her heart is sad to think of him, but she has no time for it now, not in the dangerous reach of a dragon, “Arion, if it pleases you.” He dips his head once more, Asch narrows her gaze slightly at the top of his head, horns chopped and filed hide nearly invisible in the thick trestles of hair.

“Arion.” She says, watching him as she bends to collect his offered cloak, “Dangerous you said?” But he did not say where. “Yes my lady, if you allow, I may escort you to a safe place?” He suggests, extending his hand toward her, his palm bare, and nails chipped and black, “And if I said no?” She laughs lightly, slipping closer, dragging her feet, his smile is charming, with a slight crazed edge to it. Yes, very careful.

“I fear you’d freeze, and Lord Wrathion would not be pleased.” Prince. Asch does not like this, not a single thread of it, but she could not battle a dragon, and could not escape his clutches, she would have to do whatever she could, and hope someone will find her- Melarion looks at her, a hunger fierce in his eyes, and soon.

A canoe is stuffed in the sand a few leagues from where they came upon each other- or where she came upon him. “A canoe?” She asks, “Won’t you fly us to safety?” Asch plays sweetly, for now, batting her lashes at him- Melarion sucks in a breath, “Forgive me, my lady, but it is not considered polite of mortals to ride atop dragons back.”

“Ah, forgive me the insult then,” Asch says, allowing him to assist her into the belly of the canoe, he smiles, hiding his annoyance plain across his face, “Dragons are quite beautiful.” She begins, looking across the land to decipher anything of note, “Where might you be taking me? I would joy to see Wrathion again and tell him of your heroics.”

Melarion seems irritated, smiling stiffly, “A safe place, worry not, my lady. And I will call Wrathion once I know you are warm and fed.” Asch feels dread well up in her belly, “How is it you’ll call him? Do dragons have such magics as that?”

“Something like that, my lady.” He says vaguely, rowing them toward the fog, everything becomes dense, the air thick and hard to take in, and her head grows light, Asch had no sense of time, it was hard to decipher how long they’d been on the water, but Melarion is swiftly stroking the paddles, gliding them toward somewhere.

The fog slowly begins to fade out and breathing becomes easier, revealing another dank darkness enveloping the growth of land before them. She could no longer make out the line of the land they left, and they approach only darkness.

“Come this way, my lady.” He trudges through the water, his boots getting muck up to his knees, his strength carrying the boat onto a respectable terrain for her to stand onto. Asch once more takes his hand and is frantically trying to shape the land before her, a darkened jungle of ugly roots and dying vines. Bugs infest and buss near her ear enough that she swats at them, Melarion chuckles at the sight of her, “Only a bit longer, my lady.”

He forces her into the dark maw of a cave first, the opening shrinking the longer they walk, the absolute darkness forces her to use her other senses, and beneath her feet, the ground changes from packed dirt and mud to cobbled stones, the smell was horrid, and when her hand skims up and along the side, she recognizes the path for what it is; a storm drain.

A light begins to glow at the other end of the tunnel, the closer they come the easier it is to see torches lit red in an empty, hollow space. The architecture is fine and old, something off about it as Melarion guides her, giving her minimal chance to look carefully at anything they pass.

That is, until they come to a room, vast as it is wide, with Mogu statues adorning each corner, pillars of thunder spark to life, bringing an eerie glow in the dimly lit halls. She’d heard of this place, father spoke of it at length after the siege- Wrathion too, when he spoke to Anduin.

“This is... the Throne of Thunder, isn’t it?” Asch asks, but dreadfully, already knows the answer.

Melarion’s grin is wicked, “Yes my lady, it is.”

Asch swallows, stepping away from him, realizing faintly the way inside was blocked now by a hidden stone door, she nods, slowly, “I never left Kun-lai Summit.”

“No, my lady.” He says, his voice turning dark.

“It was you.” Asch whirls around, no longer comfortable in his cloak, and tossing it, her eyes glaring at his taunting face, “You tampered with the portal.” He steps once closer, she steps back, and they do it one more time before from the floor, a stone cage of bars comes around her in a small square, the prongs rise all the way to the high ceiling, offering no escape.

“Yes, my lady.” His voice warps into an ugly thing, and his smile is all sharpened teeth.

 

 

Chapter 208: Wrathion ABO dabbles 10

Summary:

Sorry this is late!
Please enjoy!

Chapter Text

Asch felt her breathing becomes dangerously shallow, her fingers felt brittle, and looking at them gave her no comfort, only questions. The pinkest part of her flesh, the tips of her pale fingers, now gray with death, were no longer dark like her cheeks, nose and elbows should be, no they were ghastly.

“What have you done to me?” She whispers, her voice shy and lifeless, too tired to fight. “Ask not what’s been done, but what shall be given,” Melarion says, his voice disturbing to her ears. He sits, head and shoulders hanging, his legs wide, elbows supported by his knees as he watches her intently, as though she a creature behind glass to study.

When she does not muster a response, he continues talking anyway, “Look up.”

Her eyes, though tired and receded, do just as told, the room gained new additions, two large tanks, filled with crimson liquid squirming and working, machines of magic churning toward a result. Something in her wrist throbs, and Asch examines the little metal stuck to her skin, draining her blood, her fingers weakly try to pry it off, he’s killing me. Her thoughts a dull, darkening around her vision.

“Wrathion is a fool.” He says, eagerly watching her struggle, enraptured with it, “He’d wasted his opportunity one too many times, and lost a Queen.” Melarion shakes his head, “I will not make his same mistakes. I’m taking your King’s blood.” He says, eyeing the filling and draining canisters, something stirs in her belly, and with a forceful weakness she knows to be dying, looks at her stomach, watching another metal stick and tube feed blood into her low abdomen.

“And giving you Dragons.” Melarion finishes giddily, his eyes never leaving the crimson tanks. “Why?” She rasps, her eyes unfocused, and she lays down, too tired to try and sit any longer, “I will bite you, and bed you, and finally breed you.” He says, a horrific lustful heat in his eyes as he swims over her figure, staring at every inch.

“Mortals cannot brood for dragons, this is true,” He hums, toying with little flames in his fingers, busying his hands as he watches, “But I’ve understood how to make it so, and there is no better Omega in all the kingdoms, no finer woman, to carry a dragon seed.” He says, in awe, in utter disgusting love.

“Do you know where we are?” He asks, forcing her to stay awake, “The Throne…” she slurs, her mind getting dark, her vision long gone from her. He chuckles, still where he sits, “Yes, good girl.” He muses, “But where in Throne of Thunder?”

He chuckles, amused, “I’ll tell you my sweet, we are in the consort’s halls,” She cannot see, only faint dark shapes, but he seems to move, his boots soft on the stone, light-footed for a dragon. Wrathion was too, his memory brings her warmth, her fingers twitch at the feeling her mind conjures, and it’s almost so real.

Cold fingers touch his face, and for a moment he’s disturbed, cheek jolting under her frozen touch, his solution is to kiss them, cup her hand in his heat and bring her near, her chest collides with his own, naked, and sopping wet, bubbles of bright white tickle her skin, “Hopeless.” He says, charmed. Asch feels her limbs warm, her face smiling. Wrathion and his red frothing eyes peer at her with utter devotion and love. His mouth moves around words, but she cannot hear him speak, and his presence fades.

Asch stirs, the pain in her limbs and belly growing each second until dully brings her alive. Had she died? Melarion is still blathering, happy to hear himself talk. She feels cold again, but her heart is warmed.

Wrathion remains inconsolable, it’s utterly pathetic for a dragon of such esteem to appear frantic- and over a mortal woman, but she was no mortal woman, was she? Ifarian would mock him until times end. Mathias says nothing, or if he did Wrathion is too muddled to hear it, his mind wrapping around the most insidious outcomes, it’s only be a day- he tries to tell himself, just a day, she is Queen. No one would kill a Queen-

He stops himself, shaking his head at the thought.

“I met your… Uncle.” Mathias attempts conversation, “Once.”

Wrathion’s foot taps insistently against the stone below them, “He makes a point of knowing important mortals.” Wrathion waves off, Mathias- he has the gall to chuckle, at a time like this. “He threatened to kill Anduin.”

Wrathion pauses, “He tends to do that too.”

“So, what then, are we doing here?” Mathias asks, gesturing to the obsidian and stone cave. “My uncle is old, and so is his magic, I need him to find her.” Mathias peers at him, surely half-crazed looking and frantic, “Lady Proudmoore is also looking.”

Wrathion keens a small hum, impatience eating him alive, “I have faith Lady Proudmoore will find her, days late and dead.” He snaps, without thinking, nails digging into his palm. Mathias opens his mouth, but Flynn presses his hand over his arm, cautioning him silently. Wrathion was terrible in crisis, random chance- anything could happen, he’d no control, at the mercy of fate. Wrathion curls his lip and sees his uncle come from the depths of their shrine, his face hard and searching.

“What is this displeasure?” He mocks, crossing his arms, Wrathion was persuasive and handsome, while his uncle chooses menacing and breathtaking. Where Wrathion kept a mortal guise, his uncle threw the notion of hiding out, his claws remain black like their talons, his horns mighty and imposing, molten fire beating like a heart in the crest of it, forming around his temple like a high and thick halo.

His face is littered with black scales, his eyes unsettling red, the fog of his own covering the bridge of his nose and cheeks- compared, Wrathion is considered subtle. “Uncle I have little time and much to ask.” Wrathion steps up the rise, coming to his uncle, face imploring.

Ifarian seems intrigued, and cautioned, “Why nephew, how unsightly of you; begging.” Ifarian huffs, “Where’s that pride?” Wrathion grapples his hand around the upper meat of his uncle’s shoulder, his face sullen, Ifarian quirks a snowy white brow, the elven ears of his visage tweaking with irritation.

“Taken,” Wrathion utters, pathetic and poetic, “Help me, uncle.”

 

“Do you have something of hers?” Ifarian asks, hurrying them down into his sanctum, the inner working of his alchemic den. “I- ah-“ Wrathion fishes into his coat, but it is Mathias that produces what they seek, “A hair will do?”

Ifarian eyes it between his fingers, “A hair will do.” He confirms, taking the long strand and getting to work quickly, “Why did you have that?” Flynn asks, peaking over his husband to watch the dragon work, Mathias stares sidelong at Flynn, “She sheds.” He shrugs.

“Ah.” Flynn hums the noise, “So that’s where those white hairs came from.” He grins. Poking his husband’s side, “Here I thought you were getting gray.” Mathias bats at him, but under his thick mustache is a gentle smile.

“I see now why you’ve become so horridly sentimental, nephew.” Ifarian muses, watching the brew atop the fine lacquered desk, paying careful attention to the heat set under the bubbling cauldron. “You’ve become pitiful; whining about a mortal’s safety, as though they don’t die every day.”

“How is your mate, uncle? Give you another brood yet?” Wrathion snaps viciously. Ifarian glanced over his shoulder boredly, “Comparing nephew? She’s given me eight, but I’m sure your mortal woman has given you entertainment.” Ifarian flicks a few herbs into the black pot, returning his gaze to it intently, “Their only fun for a few years, Nephew.”

Mathias clears his throat, “She is the High Queen,”

“Oh joy.” Ifarian drolls, “Take all the credit, dear nephew, lest I be known a mortal lover like you.”

“You’ll be known as a Kingslayer.” Mathias reminds.

“Naturally.” Ifarian grins sharply, “There,” He gestures lazily, “Drink it, it should offer you a vision through her eyes, clear as she can see it.”

“And what if she cannot see?” Wrathion remarks, tilting on his toes to see the bubbling black liquid, “Pesky Whelp.” Ifarian grumbles, “Pour it onto something and let it loose, but follow it fast.”

Wrathion unwinds the ribbon around his waist into his palm, “Drink first.” Ifarian bottles it in three small vials, offering it to them, Wrathion eyes it dubiously, Ifarian shrugs, “Chase your ribbon then, but you could be chasing her corpse for days.”

Wrathion fouls up, his rage seeping through his feeble grasp, but remains focused on the vial, too grateful to strike his uncle. Wrathion, Mathias, and Flynn gather up the vials in their hands, shooting them back in one swift inhale. It settles oddly in his belly, heavy and disturbing, nothing happens- and then-

His whole vision bleeds away, Ifarian’s smug face dissipates, and seeps down his vision while an entirely new sight takes him hostage. Before him is a vast floor, the world strange- on its side, laying down- She’s alive! Wrathion soaks the details, burning it into his mind’s eye. Grand pillars of intricately carved stone, bars of stiff magic raising to the ceiling, mogu statues carved from the finest slabs. Wrathion sees something moving in sweeping gestures, her eyes- how strange to see through another’s vision, follow the path, until the man moves behind huge cylinders, one whole, the other drained near to complete.

Suddenly, drastically, he’s flung back into his body, and the force makes Wrathion double over onto his hands and knees and expel the sludge from his belly. Mathias and Flynn are in similar states of sickness, heaving spittle and bile, breath frantic.

“Putrid.” Ifarian steps back, “Fascinating.” Both are said with equal intrigue. “Did you find her?” he asks, musing over the vomit with a quirked mouth. “She was taken.” Mathias pants, “I saw someone.” Wrathion bobs his head, “The Throne of Thunder.”

No sooner did they agree, Ifarian promptly bids they leave, no longer interested in their strife and with Wrathion properly indebted. Still, as they are shooed out, Wrathion is grateful, “Thank you uncle,” he murmurs quietly as Mathias and Flynn saddle up their Gryphons. Ifarian sighs, there’s a hint of a smile under all the smug self-satisfaction, “Go on, then, get your mortal woman- and do not forget your debt to me.”

Wrathion offers him a genuine smile, “Just don’t make a boring request, uncle.” Wrathion turns, moving to make space for himself, but before he can turn, Ifarian pauses him, a hand clasping his shoulder. Wrathion stills, narrowing his eyes in suspicion. In his mortal visage, Ifarian remains taller, as he does in his dragon form, the elder dragon is older than this world, and Wrathion is a pest, a young whelp with silly whims.

“Rescue her and keep away from her.” Ifarian says, his tone gravely serious, “You are a dragon, she cannot carry your young; you’ll have no future with her.”

Wrathion’s face twitches, his jaw tightening, “Wrathion.” He warns with a growl, “That is not an ask.”

“Is that it then, the debt you wish repaid?” Wrathion spits quietly, eyes glancing at the awaiting partners atop their mounts, “That is a demand of your lord.” Ifarian releases him, crossing his arms, “Then you are no longer my lord, uncle.”

Ifarian seems to laugh at this, a mocking kind that makes him furious, “You’ll have a Queen then? A dragon ruled by a mortal, you know nothing of your own people, little nephew.” Ifarian shakes his head, “So be it, Wrathion, when she dies in fifty years and you have but ash and dust to remember her by, remember the choice you have made today.”

Ifarian flicks his wrist in dismissal, turning toward his cavern, “Become a King, and ache at the thought of home.” The vault shuts behind him, the obsidian doors mocking Wrathion with their very presence. A growl rips from his throat, smoke rising around him. Mathias and Flynn stare confused and worried, but Wrathion launches into the sky and ignores their calls.

 

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