@drew-winchester I’ll do pens and colors later but I wanted to share the pencils because I think it looks nice so far and I don’t know when I’ll be able to get to finishing it :D

It took all of Mul the shaman’s courage to go up to Leehky, and even more to offer a gift—but however lovely the flower is, it can’t be more lovely than her.

💜💜💜💜💜💜 How sweet, oh gosh ;///;

A Story for Winter’s Veil

For @drew-winchester and @haleth – normally I’d go more traditional and write a ghost story for Yule, but it’s been a tough year and I thought it best to be wholesome instead :3

And, I got inspiration from recent posts! So I hope you enjoy, and have a wonderful holiday season!

A great fire burned in the hearth; orange tongues dancing and rising up from logs enchanted to burn for weeks on end. Karazhan’s great hall had been decorated to magnificence, with ribbons and streamers and great pine trees with baubles and lights–

    The staff of apprentice mages had already gone off to their respective corners of Karazhan to relax and read and look through the gifts they got. In the great hall, amidst the library stacked with endless tomes, one particular tree stood by the hearth, smaller but somehow the brightest in festivity. A large fuzzy rug had been set down on the cobblestone, and in front of the fire, two couches had grown extremely comfortable and well-worn.

    The morning’s jubilation had died down to a humming sweetness. Khadgar silently thanked the Gods that Anaël and Avalon had outgrown getting up at the crack of dawn and tugging on their sleeping parents to see what Greatfather Winter had gotten them. In fact, Perry had giggled to Khadgar as they’d gotten up that morning, it was now the parents who had to pounce and rouse their children!

    They’d all gotten up in a timely fashion, prepared themselves as much as they wanted, and gone down to see a set of presents miraculously transported under their Winter’s Veil tree where last night there’d been none. Despite being “adults” now, Anaël and Avalon had both squealed with joy and rushed down the large stairs to the couches and the gifts. Khadgar smiled, shaking his head and looking over to Perry, about to ask if she wanted him to get tea–

    –only to have her tugging on his arm excitedly too to rush to them.

    The gift-giving had been marvelous; few as the gifts had been to each of them, they were all dearly longed-for items. Robes, stuffed critters, reagents enchanted to be ten times more useful–and to regenerate once used up, candies, chocolates, fictional books, non-fiction books, a new set of arcane tomes for Anaël, a new chi-conducting staff for Avalon–they all found exactly what they wanted.

    Khadgar lulled back on the couch, smiling softly and watching his family. In a few hours, they’d have to start tidying up; Karazhan hosted a party of most of the mages throughout the whole continent, if they could make it, and had ever since the Council of Six had approached Khadgar with the idea a few years back. He’d deliberated, but said yes; it gave everyone another chance to mingle and chat and be merry, regardless of their faction or views. And that was what Winter’s Veil really felt like it should be about.

    But, in the hours leading up to it, there was a truly blissful quiet where there were absolutely no cares in the world.

    Avalon rushed about the vast hall, practicing and twirling the staff around giddily. Anaël sat cross-legged quite close to the fire, bent over the first of the arcane set with wide eyes. Khadgar chuckled softly, arm around Perry on the couch.

    “They’re lost to us, I think,” he murmured, nuzzling against his wife. No reply. He glanced over, seeing that she was lost in the pages of Elise Starseeker’s newest book.

    He laughed softly to himself, leaning his head back and sighing blissfully.

    A sudden, fuzzy feeling came down around his head, and he opened his eyes to find Avalon grinning above and behind him.

    “Merry Winter’s Veil, Dadghar!”

    She leaned down, hugging him tight, and he patted her arms.

    “Merry Winter’s Veil, my cute little murloc.”

    Avalon giggled. “Must you still call me that?”

    Khadgar grinned. “If you’re still calling me ‘Dadghar’… now what on Azeroth is on my head?”

    Perry glanced over and grinned brightly. “Greatfather Winter!”

    Anaël looked up, blinking then grinning as well. “He’s already given us our presents.”

    Khadgar wrinkled his nose, looking to Perry. “It’s one of those hats, isn’t it, dear?”

    She giggled and kissed his nose. “Maybe!” Khadgar sighed, bemused.

    Avalon vaulted over the back of the couch and landed on his other side, smiling up at him. “I think you’d be a great Greatfather Winter! You’re already charitable, and you’re fun, and you could get one of those large white beards and it’d be great!”

    Khadgar laughed. “I could GROW my own beard!”

    Avalon made no comment, simply smiling up at him.

    Perry cuddled up closer to his side, her head falling on his chest, quite warm and comforting. She kissed his jaw.

    “You’d be a great Greatfather Winter, I think. At least keep that on through the party; we’ll see what the other mages think!”

    Khadgar chuckled again. “It’s red clashing against my blue and grey robes; I can expect some smirks.”

    “Oh, it’s Winter’s Veil, Bubbly!” Perry said, beaming. “It’s a ‘festive’ look.”

    “Uh huh.”

    A bell rang throughout the hall and Avalon vaulted backwards over the back of the couch. “I got it!..” her voice echoed back to them and she was already darting up to the door.

    Khadgar looked down at his wife. “You really think I’d be a good Greatfather Winter?”

    “Yes!” Perry said, still beaming up at him before lowering her voice to a faint murmur. “I could sit in your lap, tell you what I want, thank you for your gifts–it’d be wonderful.”

    Khadgar blushed lightly and she stole a kiss from his lips. “And,” she said, “I could get to dress up as Greatmother Winter! Couple costumes.”

    Khadgar laughed, managing a faint “oh nooooo..!” Perry laughed with him.

    “Bro!” Avalon called from the door. “Meera’s here!”

    Anaël shot up from his seat on the rug, wobbling slightly and knocking his fists on his legs to try and wake them up. Despite his attention being pulled from the tome’s secrets, he still looked wide-eyed–in fact, Khadgar thought bemusedly, even more so. The young man brushed his already-tidy hair back, smoothed his crease-less robes out, and started on quickly towards the door.

    Khadgar and Perry both scooched around in their seats, watching with faint smiles.

    Avalon hummed and trotted away, twirling her new staff around again and practicing strikes against imaginary foes. Anaël helped a young Night Elf woman inside and shut the door against the cold winds and the heavy snow. Meera shook off as much as possible, but it was obvious she was cold. Anaël helped her peel off her coat, exposing a very pretty–if not all that heavy–dress-robe beneath, and they stood chatting with shy smiles in the doorway.

    “Anaël,” Greatfather Khadgar called out, “bring her on over to the fire to warm up!”

    Anaël blushed and escorted his girlfriend over. Avalon grinned, ears twitching to hear all the conversation, though she still danced around lithely, testing that staff.

    Meera sat down on the rug near the fire, still shivering, smiling politely. “Hello s-sir; ma’am.”

    “Oh, dear,” Perry said, glancing to Anaël as he joined his lady on the rug, putting a warm arm around her. “You know you don’t have to be formal. Khadgar, now’s a good time to give Meera her gift?”

    Meera blinked. “My..?”

    Khadgar smiled and nodded. “Anaël, if you’d be so kind? You’re already down there; let my old knees rest, huh?”

    Perry bit back a laugh. “You’ve used that line every single Winter’s Veil since your hair turned white to make me bend down to get the gifts, dear.”

    Khadgar blinked innocently.

    Anaël fetched from under the tree a parcel marked “Meera” from “Greatfather Winter.” She looked up at Khadgar, with his Winter’s Veil cap on, and smiled. “Th-Thanks,” she said.

    Khadgar blinked, then felt up on his head and sighed, bemused. Perry giggled into his shoulder. “You’re welcome. It’s from all of us; mostly from Greatson Winter there next to you. He made it.”

    Avalon came over again, watching with a smile as Meera opened her gift and pulled out a deep blue cloak lined with thick white fur, back designed in ultramarine and sparkling cobalt to look like the night sky. Meera looked up at Anaël, a blush starting to steal over her features, and he carefully reached around her, wrapping the cloak up nice and warm around her body.

    “B– Because you’re as beautiful as the night sky,” he mumbled. “And it gets windy here, a lot; and cold, so I wanted to make sure you were always warm.”

    Meera’s blush deepened. She glanced shyly at Khadgar and Perry and Avalon, who all pleasantly looked away at nothing, before she wrapped her arms around her boyfriend and kissed him long and soft.

    “That’s an interesting carving up there, dear,” Khadgar commented mildly, pointing up at a section of stone high up and in the furthest direction away from the young lovers as possible. “See it? The gargoyle face?”

    Perry laughed. “Bubbles, that’s just a chip in the stone!”

    “Are you sure, now?”

    Meera handed Anaël a small wrapped box. “It’s– um– uh, my– would you mind if we opened it more in private?” she asked, glancing at his family.

    Khadgar smiled, glancing back at her. “Not at all, dear. Our home is your home.” He looked to his son. “No doing anything I wouldn’t do!”

    Anaël blushed. Khadgar harrumphed. “Exactly!”

    “Dadghar,” Avalon asked mildly. “Aren’t those books you gave An the same as that set you broke into the Dalaran library to read?”

    Khadgar cleared his throat loudly. “NO… they were sitting out on a table! In the section I happened to break into.” He grinned, looking from his daughter to his son. “Point is, go; shoo. I get it; go enjoy your Veil together.”

    The young lovers blushed, moving off through the hall and upstairs. Perry sighed blissfully, cuddling up tighter against Khadgar, glancing back over the couch at Avalon.

    “How’re you liking the staff, honey?”

    “It’s wonderful, ma!” Avalon said, twirling it again, then paused, looking at them and smiling. “And I’ll go wish the apprentices a merry Winter’s Veil.”

    She started off towards the door out of the hall. Perry blinked, glancing to Khadgar. “Did I scare her off?”

    Avalon stopped in the doorway. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, you crazy kids!” She giggled, exiting.

    Perry rolled her eyes, blushing as a bemused smile hit her features. “Ah.”

    Khadgar shook his head, wearing a similar smile, and held her in tighter, hand coming to rest on her hip.

    Perry moved a leg over his, nuzzling against his neck then kissing it. He shivered, and she paused, moving up and kissing his ear softly…

    “Dadghar.”

    She giggled and nuzzled back in at his shoulder. He let out a loud, over-dramatic sigh, and she laughed harder.

    Things settled and the fire’s crackling filled the hall again, so very pleasant.

    “Mm–Khadgar?”

    “Hm?”

    “Tell me a story?”

    Khadgar looked at her. She smiled up at him, eyes shut–opening to look up sweetly into his. His other hand moved to her cheek, one finger stroking it softly.

    “Marlon was dead, to begin with–”

    Perry laughed. “Nooooo! A different story! You read us that tome last night–you always read that tome each Veil’s eve! I could recite it at this point!”

    Khadgar laughed. “But don’t you want to hear about how a tight-fisted money-loving old Goblin changed his ways again, dear?”

    Perry stuck out her tongue. “Something OTHER than the tale of Mr. Scruge and his ghosts, please.”

    Khadgar sighed, bemused. “Fine–fine…”

    He blinked, then paused, going silent. Perry waited, looking up at him.

    “Did I ever tell you the story of my first kiss?”

    Her ears perked up.

    “No…”

    Khadgar glanced at her shyly. She looked up, expectant. He held the pause.

    “Oh, go on! Please!”

    He grinned, and started:

<*>                    <*>                    <*>

    Winter had poured out all its snow onto the earth, but still more rained down from the skies. The streets were full of revelry and cheer; banners were hung proclaiming celebration and good-will to all. On each street corner, different groups of friends were singing with all their worth, expecting neither money nor even a crowd; just wanting to do it.

    I was–oh, I was a lot younger, back when my hair was still brown. I remember distinctly that the day had been strange; I’d actually forgotten that it was Winter’s Veil proper despite so many people excitedly awaiting it. Many of my friends were out and away, celebrating with their families or having traveled in groups somewhere else for the holiday. I, meanwhile, had gotten up like any other day only to find my employment shut and the winds quite cold, even with carrying such sentiments of mirth.

    I think I spent most of the day reading. I hadn’t bought myself any gifts; I was saving up my gold in case of emergency, and for the future of finding a more independent home-life with a family. But, books were entertaining, so I spent almost the full day reading.

    That night, however, there was going to be a grand celebration at the center of the city. There’d be a huge feast, rounds of carols around the massive great-tree they’d picked out that year, and I had a friend who was supposed to meet me there. So when it got a lot closer to that time, I wrapped myself up in a scarf and heavy clothes and I went out.

    My friend did meet me there, but the large crowd made her rather shy, and so we clambered up out of the way and sat on the deep windowsill of a building, high on the second story. A few people asked if we were all right and needed help down, but we replied we were fine, and as there was no real commotion or alarm on our part, nobody paid us any more mind.

    I don’t think she’d ever really enjoyed–or even celebrated–Winter’s Veil before. She had this look the whole time like everything was brand new and the most wonderful thing she’d ever seen. We had a wonderful view of the tree and appreciated its exquisite ornamentation, even at the highest layers.

    I can’t honestly remember anything either of us said to each other, though we talked most of the evening and night.

    And then suddenly it was late, and I realized we had to get going. The crowds were starting to disperse beneath, and we had to get back to our homes and rest. And I realized too that I really didn’t want her to go. My hand covered hers, and we both paused a moment, looking into each other’s eyes, and just–kissed.

    Her lips–oh, they were like heaven. They were so soft; so pure. It felt so fragile; like if I kissed her any deeper, she’d crack like a porcelain doll. And yet with that fragility; us just barely touching together–my heart raced faster than anything more passionate could’ve done. That fragility was as tender as either of us could ever be, in that moment, and we both were.

    I don’t think we even said goodnight, after that. We just held hands walking home, and waved, and I know I went to bed not long after but couldn’t sleep at all, staying up thinking about her and how much I wanted to spend all my lifetime with her.

<*>                    <*>                    <*>

    Khadgar blushed, his voice soft, and he glanced down at Perry again. She blushed too, biting her lip.

    “That sounds… remarkably… like my first kiss, Khadgar…”

    “Does it, now?”

    He smiled softly, and she put a hand to his cheek, drawing him in against her and kissing him again with that fragile tenderness, so light it barely touched… then again, deeper, aching to let him know all her heart’s desires to be near him.

    Hours more passed in sweet, pleasant loving.

    They lay quietly together on the rug, a pillow propped up for their heads. Perry petted his chest slowly, working her fingers in circles along it. He smiled, petting her side, and they both listened to the crackle of the logs in the hearth. Still half an hour until guests–

    The bell rang for the door.

    “I’ll get it!” Avalon called out, sprinting through the hall, pausing long enough to see her parents poke their heads up from the floor.

    “Old people,” she muttered, shaking her head before getting the huge door, squealing happily at whoever it was.

    “Uncle Momo’s here!” she called out.

    Móshù, a large dark-furred pandaren mage, poked his head over the couch to the host and hostess on the floor, waving politely and holding up gifts. “Are we all celebrating this year lying down on the rug?”

    Perry giggled. “It IS a comfortable rug…”

    The pandaren mage grinned. “Sorry to be early; I forget the time differences from Pandaria to here.”

    “That’s perfectly fine, Mo,” Khadgar said, hoisting himself up to sitting, the top Winter’s Veil hat flopping over onto the back of his neck, “we’re just glad you could make it. Do you need help with your coat, or any–?”

    “I got it, I got it!” Avalon said, helping the pandaren out of his traveling gear. Perry sighed.

    “Ava, my darling, please don’t try and spar our guests this year…”

    Móshù grinned. “That’s quite all right, Miss Starfallen; I’m perfectly happy to spar your daughter and comment on where she needs to improve!”

    Avalon narrowed her eyes playfully. “As if you’ll score even one point this year!”

    Anaël and Meera came downstairs, his hair a bit more tussled-up than before. “Who is it?” Móshù waved, grinning heartily, and they waved back.

    Perry sat up as well. “So, can we see Meera’s gift to you now, An?”

    Anaël paused and blushed lightly, then moved over to his parents. Avalon bounded over too, curious. From his neck, Anaël pulled on a chain, bringing a locket out from underneath his robes, opening it to show a beautifully-painted portrait of Meera and a tender phrase handwritten in Darnassian.

    Meera blushed, still a little further back, standing and quite lovely in her cloak. “So that he always can see me if he wants, even if he’s far away doing work,” she murmured.

    “It’s beautiful,” Perry murmured back, motioning for Meera to come closer. The younger elf did. “Who painted it?”

    “I know he doesn’t take many commissions, but I wrote Mr. Remor a letter and he replied that he’d be happy to.”

    Khadgar blinked. “Kaskaeld Remor?”

    She nodded.

    “Huh,” Khadgar mumbled. “Winter’s Veil’s spirit touches us all, I suppose.”

    The bell rang again for the door, and Avalon sprang to it with glee. Khadgar sighed and looked to his wife. “Time to get up and celebrate.”

    “Oh, poor us, that we must celebrate with our friends!” she giggled, accepting his hand as he brought her up into his arms. He paused, holding her there a long moment.

    “What?” she said, blushing under his loving gaze.

    “Just–how on Azeroth did I get so lucky?” he said softly, the fire blissfully wavering along his handsome features.

    Perry smiled, moving her hands up his chest and around his neck. “Something made you not afraid anymore to kiss me up on that windowsill, my dearest. Everything seems to have snowballed out of control from there.”

    Khadgar grinned. “What merry chaos this is, then. I wouldn’t change a thing.”

    Perry smiled tenderly and they kissed again, savoring the long, sweet moment, before the guests came in and a most enjoyable night was had by all.

Oh my, thank you SO MUCH, what I wonderful Christmas surprise ;v; !!!! I’m so in love with your writing. Your stories are amazing. And every time you write about my characters I just don’t know how to thank you enough. It’s a huge gift. I’m touched and honored that you do this! Thank you so, so much!!

I am so happy to see Meera and Anaël together!!!! They are so sweet and shy and cute x3 and Anaël reminds me of his father uvu 💕 You also write Avalon perfectly!!! Gosh, she makes me smile, you really understood perfectly her and her brother’s personality! ;v;

Oh dear the way you write Khadgar is so incredible, his little jokes and everything, I couldn’t stop smiling as I read!! It fills my heart with joy! Also seeing him happy -v- I can’t explain but it makes me feel happy myself, haha!

And this part about their first kiss!!! My heart melted! Ahhh ;///; *swoons*

I could see all those moments and it’s so heartwarming. It’s a wonderful Christmas present, thank you! And I am so touched to be able to share it with my dear @haleth it means a lot to me!

Thank you for everything! I wish you wonderful holidays and all the best 💕🌸❄️🎄🎁

Thank you thank you 💕

The Stars That Bind

@drew-winchester, I promised two things–that I’d write something happier, and that I’d write this scene. This is about as opposite in tone from my previous fics for you as I could get, which is a happy thing! (And I’m glad to be writing of happiness–I’ve had a rough few months with school that have blessedly finally evened out; else I’d’ve gotten this out to you sooner.) Enjoy :3

Khadgar woke up with a weight over his chest. His eyes darted open, quick and anxious that the Legion was attacking again and somehow had made it into the city–

    Perry’s lips met his, soft and full.

    He lay there a moment, disoriented but quickly returning to the present, before wrapping up his beloved in a tight hug, kissing her back tenderly.

    The morning light strode in upon them from behind the curtains, casting a soft glow about her. She pulled back slightly, folding her hands over his heart and setting her chin on them, bright eyes and sweet smile bathing his face in radiance.

    “Good morning, Sun,” she murmured, voice a quiet song against his ears.

    “G’morning, Stars,” he replied, stretching and yawning and settling back, hugging her close again. “What’s… time?”

    “It’s something the Bronze Dragons know a lot about, dear.” Perry giggled and kissed his chin. White stubble prickled against her lips, and she nuzzled against it, scrunching up her nose. “You’re getting to be a cactus.”

    Khadgar sighed, a smile playing at his lips. “I can shave.”

    Perry laughed. “I don’t mind you being my Cactus-Mage~!”

    She kissed his chin again and moved back out of his arms. Khadgar sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, pausing looking her over. She was already dressed to go out, leather armor worn and heavy. Reliable, thick and not made for showing off the person beneath, but still…

    “Are you staying in bed all day, my love?”

    Khadgar blinked and shook his head slightly. “Hm?”

    Perry smiled softly, tucking a white strand of hair behind one elven ear. “Are you staying in bed all day? You paused, looking at me.”

    He blushed lightly. “Of course I paused, looking at you. Why wouldn’t I pause, love?”

    She giggled, a dash of purple rushing over her pink features, but gave no reply. He smiled and hoisted himself up out of bed, cleaned himself off, and dressed to go in robes that had seen so much conflict.

    “So, where to?” he asked, meeting her at the door.

    Perry’s smile faded. “Darkshore. Even with– Even with things settled, and Deathwing finally gone–”

    “There’s still so much to do,” Khadgar murmured.

    She nodded, face set in determination and courage. His heart moved faster, looking into her eyes, and he took a breath to steady himself, nodding back. They would do as much good as they could, today. And– perhaps–

    Well, perhaps it was time.

    There was, after all, something waiting in Ashenvale he’d set up. The elves there were patient; they’d still be waiting, surely–

    Khadgar summoned a portal around them, and moments later it crackled and crept away again to the ether, and they stood huddled together against the Lor’danel winds.

    The shoreline bathed them in what should have been a resplendent serenity. The water broke along the edge of the town and down the sandy beach for miles, waves cresting and filling the air with sighs of power before they receded and another took their place. The trees seemed almost to hum against the wooded edge of Lor’danel, and the occasional wisp darted too and fro merrily. Animals wandered in curiously to be greeted by the tall, friendly populace, and beyond the ocean’s edge, far out into the water–just a bit too far to comfortably swim–the massive tree Teldrassil stood, looming, a pillar to the everlasting victory of nature and nurtured hope. Home of the Night Elves, Perry’s people–

    His beloved, Khadgar noted, maintained her brave demeanor, yet the occasional small fidget in her fingers let him see a tired anxiety beneath. Perry was, after all, as small as he himself was, compared to the tall elves, and, though they for the most part seemed quite polite, he knew every race to have some inborn judgmental streak. He himself had worked hard to turn off those thoughts when working with Orcs, and even then some residual murmurs rumbled about.

    “Anywhere specifically you had in mind, my dearest?”

    He took her hand in his, warm and strong, and the fidget ceased as she glanced back at him. Her brief, sweet smile lit up his soul.

    “There’s a refugee camp a few miles down the road,” Perry said. “They were hit hard after Auberdine collapsed. The elementals and cultists in the area were taken care of, but I’m sure they could use all they help they could get, right now.

    Khadgar nodded, found the Saber-Keeper in the town, and chartered a ride down the shoreline to the Auberdine ruins. Perry was delighted to climb on the back of the large saber cat, and Khadgar, who had far less experience with them, tried to remain as pleasantly calm as possible. If he could deal with the Legion out in Outland, it was absolutely foolish that a giant cat would scare him!

    Especially considering that Perry, being a druid, could turn into a (albeit smaller) cat with just as ferocious claws and fangs.

    Although, perhaps he should be frightened. She was, after all, the last person he ever wanted to make angry…

    Perry giggled as he hugged her waist tighter. “It’s just a big lovable kitty, Khadgar!” she called back against the wind rushing around them. He said nothing, smiled, and hugged her tighter still.

    Soon enough, they got to the ruins of the once-great Auberdine. Khadgar looked on in sorrow at the great devastation wrought upon the town; buildings fractured and sunken into the ground; water and sand consuming the foundations; massive jutting cracks of earth spearing upwards, carving through the old town roads and homes.

    Perry looked on with him, pain inexpressibly quiet in her eyes, before turning back to the saber and thanking it for taking them this far, petting its long mane and making it trot over to Khadgar and poke its fluffy head under his hand. The mage started, looking down at it quickly, then chuckled and gave it a suitable reward of scritches before it trotted back to the road and took off back to Lor’danel.

    “Let’s find this camp, then,” Khadgar said. Perry moved over, taking his hand and squeezing it tight, and together they walked on past the Auberdine ruins.

    The camp didn’t take too long to find; off the main path leading out from the town, by the road’s sign-post, a large area of grass had been trampled down. Upon it, tents were erected from tarps that had seen better weather and the straightest fallen branches the elves could find. Against the back edge, a caravan was parked, and from it, various clothes and medical supplies were being distributed and stored away again. A scarce number of refugees huddled together against the winds, barely fifty by Khadgar’s count; less than half of the town’s populace. However, he knew, trying to shine hope back on that bleak thought, that any in better shape would’ve already made their way up to Lor’danel.

    Dentaria Silverglade, a Priestess of the Moon, pale skin accentuated by her white satin robes, looked up from one of the refugees on the ground. She stood, taller than either the human or his elven lover, but nonetheless bowed in respect.

    “May I help you two?”

    “That’s what we wanted to ask you,” Perry said softly. The elves of the camp watched the newcomers wearily, but Perry’s gaze stayed focused on the Priestess. The taller woman blinked, then smiled.

    “Help would be appreciated,” Dentaria replied. “I fear the tasks will be menial and few; we have most of what we need. Nonetheless, we would not turn down your offer.”

    Khadgar smiled. “What do you need, Priestess?”

    Dentaria turned her gaze to him. One of the elven mages of the camp, recognizing Khadgar, offered him a brisk salute before continuing his work.

    “Firewood to last the night and any herbs you can find–especially anything edible, though those with toxins we can use in salves and treatments.”

    The couple set off into the Darkshore woods.

    Khadgar, determined not to upset any of the wonderful trees–and any forest critters whose homes were in there–limited himself only to branches that had fallen. There were, blessedly, many of them, and it wasn’t long before he had to summon arcane servants to carry the back-breaking load of firewood.

    Perry, meanwhile, who they determined was far more likely to recognize specific herbs from any tall blades of overgrown grass, sprinted along in the forest, pausing by the edge of a nearby river, looking along the base and roots of each tree, giving her pleasant regards to the bears and stags and cats that roamed free through the area.

    An hour passed this way, and they returned to camp with what they’d amassed.

    Dentaria, surprised and delighted, thanked them both for their efforts. There was, as she commented bashfully, however very little the camp could give back, including even such a meager reward as lunch. Perry laughed, shaking her head, saying sweetly that no reward was necessary. The knowledge they were safer and better off was reward enough.

    The elves of the camp watched her more intently, some even smiling. Small in stature and different as she was, there was a pure heart beneath an irresistible smile.

    Khadgar certainly thought so, lost once more in her presence. It was definitely time, he thought to himself.

    He took her hand, thanking the Priestess and wishing the camp well, and summoned another portal. Perry stepped through it first, he followed, and they came out at the wondrous Astranaar, further down the continent in Ashenvale.

    The elven town, larger than Auberdine and intact, bustled with its occupants. Night Elves went too and fro, mostly uninhibited, though the occasional Sentinel, Draenei, or Worgen wandering through broke the quiet hum of their forest lives. Around them all, the trees sighed and leaned in, protection; beyond them, a natural river carved around the island of the town.

    A safe haven, beautiful, sweet.

    Perry looked around, smiling brightly. “Khadgar? We’re having lunch here?”

    Khadgar smiled to himself, glancing around. The tailor of the town, sitting out on his front porch and watching the world, got up and bowed to the mage, going inside his shop.

    “Khadgar?”

    Perry looked back to him, smile still lighting up her features. Khadgar met her gaze, thoughts racing and heart starting to pound harder, nervous. Perry blinked.

    “That’s a very wistful smile to have, my darling.” Perry moved to him, taking his hands. “What’s clouding your thoughts?”

    Khadgar looked around, sighing. The trees were so old and so wonderfully strong. Some of the branches overlapped; some even intertwined. Old souls spinning their way up to the heavens.

    Khadgar took a deep breath, looking back to his beloved.

    “Peregrïn Starfallen.”

    Perry blinked again, eyes opening wider after. Her breath slowed, and her face colored purple. After all this time, hearing him say her name in such soft, rich tones still made her heart skip.

    Khadgar started to say something, paused, then chuckled and looked down, hand moving into a pocket of his robes and fishing about for something.

    “I– Well. Perry. I’m not– I know I’m not the best with speeches and eloquence–” He pulled something out of his pocket, something small, that she couldn’t see quite yet– “–and I also know, beyond any magic I’ve learned; books I’ve memorized– histories, anything– that I love you. I love being near you. I love every moment I have with you. So I’m going to do something that terrifies me, irrationally, far more than any demon invasion.”

    Khadgar knelt down before her, looking up with a faint smile. Perry’s breath caught, and the world around was silent, in awe, watching them. Khadgar revealed the small box he’d pulled from his robe, opening it to show a ring, a carved perfect pearl inset among the petals of a pure white starflower.

    “Peregrïn Starfallen, will you grant me the privilege of being your husband?”

    Perry gulped. A faint smile slowly danced along her face. She opened her mouth to speak, shut it again, and nodded, smile growing faster and faster. Khadgar let out a deep breath, relaxing, taking her hand in his, warm and gentle, so much coarser with war, and slid the cold band onto her slender finger.

    She looked at it, grinning ear to ear, then threw her arms around him as he stood again, kissing him with deep, tender passion. He held her close, kissing back with as much loving energy.

    How long she held that intimate contact, she didn’t know. Time was nonexistent. All that there was was him.

    She did finally pull back with a giggle, blushing deep purple. “Why, d– darling, was that so much more terrifying?”

    Khadgar blushed, looking away sheepishly. “If you said no…”

    Perry wrinkled her nose and covered his cheek and neck with a myriad of soft kisses, hugging him tighter.

    “Do you really think, Khadgar, that I would have ever refused you? I love you with all my being. Wherever you are; whatever happens– I will forever be yours, and you mine.”

    Khadgar smiled, nuzzling her cheek.

    Perry paused, still blushing. “Does this mean now we have to go mad with inviting everyone and decorations and…?”

    She trailed off, wincing. Khadgar chuckled, nodding over to the tailor’s hut.

    Perry glanced over. The tailor smiled and waved, beckoning her to come in. She blinked up at Khadgar.

    “You didn’t… did you?”

    He chuckled. “I thought it’d be easier than trying to create a big fuss for weeks on end and rescheduling everyone’s lives…”

    She blushed and moved over curiously to the tailor’s shop, disappearing inside. Khadgar gulped, moving over to the row of houses against one side of the town. The Night Elves beamed, appraising him, and the tailor’s wife handed him a bundle, bowing deeply. Khadgar took it, bowing back, saying in his best elven that he was extremely grateful to her and her husband before moving off to change.

    The sun, just starting to dip down in the sky, cast a golden glow through the leaves, sending shadows and beautiful patterns of nature scattered along the ground. Secluded in a small grove at the edge of Astranaar, a Moonwell of glowing, pure waters cast an ethereal light. The townsfolk were seated pleasantly or standing by the ring of trees, leaving room down the middle aisle. In the pure waters, another Priestess of Elune stood, covered in light robes and a thick, deep hood, so that the Goddess herself could see through her.

    Khadgar stood at the Moonwell’s edge at her command, dressed in an elven suit of fine white silks. He breathed as evenly as he could, yet nothing could prepare him as the crowd let out a murmur of reverence. He turned.

    Perry stood at the end of the aisle. The tailor had outdone himself: her wedding gown rolled smoothly along her top half, outlining her with dignity and regality fit for an angel itself. It was cut deep along her front and back, and along her shoulders and the border of the cut, white rose petals had been sewn in, adorning her with the delicate beauty of the finest craftsmanship nature had. The sleeves ended at the elbow loosely, and white lace, dazzled with jewels tenderly shaped in floral arcs, wound its way up to her wrist and along the back of her hands.

    Seamlessly, the tight fabric billowed out along her hips and below, giving such slender folds as the robes the maidens of the stars might wear. Against her hip was fashioned a five-pointed flower of huge white petals, and along her ears the glitter of small chains connecting piercings hung down.

    Perry met his gaze with a soft smile, vulnerable but without any shyness. She was his to behold.

    And behold he did. That such a sight of magnificence and beauty could ever appear before him, much less be wed to him–

    “Light above,” he managed to mumble.

    Perry made her way down the aisle to him, slow, steady strides. The dress billowed around her feet but never once threatened to get caught under them. The crowd murmured in awe as she passed them by, shining brighter than any star above, bathed in the soft glow of the sunlight and the glistening purity of the Moonwell.

    She came to her beloved’s side and stood still, facing him, a blush spreading slowly along her features as she looked over his visage. He was a statue come to life; so perfectly, achingly handsome, white hair and drawn face; strong and tall, sleek and powerfully magnetic in his suit, drawing her in without any attempt. Elven patterns wound around his chest, and she resisted hard the urge to brush her fingers along every one of them.

    The Priestess took a deep breath, reaching her hands up to the heavens. The lovers looked to her as the Moonwell shined brighter. She brought her arms down, slow, slow…

    Her voice rang out, deep and high, charged with power:

    “I am the Queen of the Starry Vaults, the residing Mistress of Heaven, the Moon in all her phases and majesty. I preside now over the union of two mortals, their paths irreversibly entwined; their souls, in my will, to bind together for all the eons left that Time shall spin its webs. Lest this be done with error, I offer first the chance to any and all who can think of a reason why these two may not wed. Speak, if you have words with which to speak.”

    The elves of Astranaar and all of nature beyond stayed silent.

    The Priestess of Elune bowed, then held out her hands.

    “Join hands and step into my waters.”

    Khadgar glanced at Perry. She glanced back. They smiled faintly, and with interlaced fingers stepped up the steps to the Moonwell and into the pure waters. Despite the liquid, though, neither their legs nor their garments seemed to get the slightest bit wet.

    “Face each other.”

    They did, and it took all their will not to embrace, their beaming faces full with such sweet intimacy.

    “Take both hands.”

    They did, interlacing their fingers; no balance of power between them save equality in love.

    The Priestess produced from her robes two golden cords, tying them one at a time around either set of hands. Neither Perry or Khadgar even felt the fabric, too busy looking into each other’s eyes. The Priestess receded again to her place.

    “Speak the vows of the Soul, and give your ties meaning.”

    “Khadgar. To you, I give the years of my life. To you, I give the air and the fire, and all my power with which you may do as you will. I give you my unending devotion, my loyalty, and all the hours and chambers of my heart. Within you, I give a piece of my soul, to nourish and cherish and grow, to be your calm in any storm of life, to be your shield and defense, to be your sword and guardian. I give to you all I have, all I shall ever be, and all that I am. Until Time’s wheel cracks and the echoes of Eternity fall silent again in the realm of the Divine, I pledge my soul as yours.”

    Perry spoke softly, murmuring without even knowing the words. They flowed neat and beautiful from her mouth, and with each syllable the golden cords along their arms glowed brighter.

    “Peregrïn. To you, I give the years of my life. To you, I give the water and the earth, and all my power with which you may do as you will. I give you my unending service, my faithfulness, and all the hours and chambers of my heart. Within you, I give a piece of my soul, to nourish and cherish and grow, to be strength in any time of hardship, to be your shield and defense, to be your sword and guardian. I give to you all I have, all I shall ever be, and all that I am. Until the Stars crumble from the sky and the Divine Beings of Elune and Eonar fall once again to the next cycle of Creation, I pledge my soul as yours.”

    Khadgar’s words came out smooth and entranced. The golden cords burned bright as the sun along their arms.

    “Kiss,” Elune murmured, “and be One.”

    The lovers kissed, and everything melted away. The cheer of the Night Elves around them, the electricity sparkling through the air, the wisps watching on, the trees, the earth, the sky: nothing was there. They stood together, pressed together, lips caressing, a zenith of all they could be. They felt each other, knew each other, and beyond the plane of mortality, their souls entwined and held fast, pieces of a grand cosmic puzzle that had found each other after so very long.

    The Priestess gently undid the cord, and the kiss broke. Perry and Khadgar looked at each other, breathing hard in a daze, the static of their connection no less heightened than it was, no less than it ever would be now. The Night Elves were clapping in a steady rhythm, and they looked together to the end of the aisle where a broom had been placed along the ground.

    Jump over it together, enter the new life.

    They grinned to each other, rushing forward, the world passing by in a smooth shifting set of colors, and in one motion, they were over the broom and out of the glade, off into the world.

    Rain started to fall from new clouds above. Perry glanced up and laughed. Khadgar grinned, still watching her gorgeousness, still squeezing her hand tight. He summoned another portal, taking them to an inn by the quieter end of Ashenvale, near the border of Darkshore overlooking the ocean. Without breaking stride, he went in with her, lifted her up into his arms, and carried her to the room the innkeeper had set aside for him–the best one there was to offer.

    There was nothing he wouldn’t do for her; nothing she wouldn’t do for him. Without a second thought, they were bound for this and every lifetime. Husband and Wife. Khadgar and Peregrïn.

💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

@drew-winchester​ So I made another thing… And you may be wondering what this link above is, but please read this all first to the end! It’s apples and oranges which of the two I’ve written hits harder, but it’s in very different ways so it’s hard to tell, I guess. Ajelee and Chún are my own (won’t get to see them in my fic for a few years yet sadly) and I had to take a little bit of liberty imagining for future, older Khadgrin… Hopefully everyone is still in character! Enjoy! Sorry if it’s hard to get through (and please excuse my voice in song; I’m not a beautiful Night Elf lass–just a lad getting over a cold trying to sing into a Voice Memos app ^w^;)

The Silent Rainfall:

She noticed it far too late. It wasn’t a big thing; it wasn’t the end of the world, but it was, and she realized that when it was long, long past.

    Khadgar decided to stay in bed.

    It was perfectly fine; their picnic date had been interrupted by the sudden onslaught of a mass of grey above. The clouds were soft and dark, rippling over Karazhan’s towers, quiet and purposeful. The downpour slicked the stones and thrust against the mortar, but the structure was solid, and the magic within it was too powerful to die with the oversight of faulty walls.

    It was true–their home did not usually get sunshine. They took their picnics out in Elwynn forest, and while she laughed and flew off as she always had, a large druidic bird of pink feathers, a small voice in her mind murmured that Khadgar hadn’t used Atiesh’s flying form in a few months. Perhaps it had been years, now? He smiled and chased after her, but it was on the back of one of their gryphons, sent off to graze and chase doe as they ate.

    Gryphons, he’d often griped, gave him saddle-sores, which she had always laughed at and remarked something about kissing wounds that still managed to cast a blush over his features, despite their increasing lines.

    “Mm–!” She stretched up from their bed, the covers falling down to her legs. The shirt beneath was soft and loose, and she yawned as the bliss of sleep faded back. Her white hair fell in a mess, and she hummed an old tune as she collected herself and braided it into a thick tail to lay over her shoulder and down her chest. The hum paused abruptly when she realized that she couldn’t remember the name of the song, or anyone else who might’ve heard it, so she looked out the paned window to the rain instead and listened to its soft tapping.

    Her gaze drifted down lovingly to her husband, bundled up nice and neat so that only his white hair and the start of his face could be seen. Against his eyes there were crow’s feet now, and his cheeks had drawn in some, despite her best attempts to feed him well. He was far from gaunt–ooh, how he still could make her weak in the knees, casting a dashing gaze her way–but it was a noticeable difference in their portraits.

    He shifted about and settled again, taking a long breath. “Morning.”

    She leaned down, kissing his cheek. The light from outside cast shadows through the rain along his face, looking like the ghosts of tears. “Morning.”

    She shifted about again, turning and lighting the candle at the bedside table, letting it shine through their apartment. Despite his stature, his achievements, and his complete ownership of Karazhan, he had chosen one of the smaller bedrooms for theirs, those many decades ago. Painted views adorned the walls of things long lost; Teldrassil’s beauty, Turalyon and Alleria, the childhood faces of Arator, Avalon, and Anaël.

    “It’s raining?” he mumbled, voice still amassed in sleep.

    “Mhm!” She nestled back down against his back, kissing his ear. “Clouds above as far as the eye can see–maybe even going into Elwynn.”

    “Ah, they probably are–” with a grunt and a strong push, he finally made it over onto his back, looking up at her with a worn smile. Those blue eyes had never lost their tender sparkle.

    “Hi.”

    She giggled, putting a hand over his cheek to cover the rainfall. “Hi.”

    He pulled her down into a kiss, and nothing in the world was wrong.

    The hours passed by uneventfully, in bliss and warmth and comfort, without responsibility or anyone else at all. They stayed huddled in the rain, close, pleasing themselves with their company. Lunchtime came and went, and finally when the grey clouds started to get darker as the sun fell behind them, there was a timid knock on the door from one of the stewards they’d kept in their employment to tend to the vast reaches of their home.

    Perry called back that everything was fine, and the steward replied that dinner was set for them downstairs. She thanked him, and they heard him wander away through the halls.

    “Dinner time,” she said, kissing him once more before sitting up again and stretching. “C’mon~!”

    She started out of bed and was to the doorway before she realized he hadn’t followed. She glanced back along the dark room to him, his face lit against the dark blue blankets by candlelight.

    “C’mon, Bubbly~ We need to eat.”

    “Hm.”

    She blinked, blinked again, and her smile slowly faded against her cheeks.

    “Are you all right, love?”

    “M’fine; I’m fine,” he said, voice softer than she remembered it being in recent years. “Just– don’t– I don’t much feel like getting up, is all.”

    Perry giggled, sauntering back over to the bedside. “I see, so you want dinner in bed and to be pampered, dearest?”

    A bemused, wistful smile played along his mouth in the candlelight. She giggled again and leaned down, teasing, stopping inches from him.

    “Dinner in bed, then, and I’ll see what I can manage about pampering.”

    He laughed and stuck out his tongue. She stuck her own out back at him, licking the end of his, then darted back with a squeak and a peal of laughter, overdramatically pawing at her mouth. “Ewwww!”

    Khadgar heaved out a sigh and rolled his eyes, grinning.

    Perry grinned back, moving out the door, thinking nothing of her husband staying in bed until the next day came and went without any change in his position. He was still cordial, but he was low-energy; the days of youth spent asking adventurers for exactly 2,500 Nethershards–IT HAD TO BE EXACTLY 2,500! were gone. He was mature.

    He was slowing down.

    The rain beat softly against the window, and she tried in vain to lift him from the bed. She laughed, making it a game, trying to hide the pit of dread growing in her stomach. She stepped out of his reach, sultry and teasing, biting her lip and waiting for him to follow–but all he could do was watch after her with a dramatic pout that faded slowly into a wistful gaze, and something caught in the edge of his eyes she couldn’t identify. She didn’t want to identify.

    Fear.

    Acceptance.

    She threw the thoughts aside, clambering back into the bed with him and submitting that he wouldn’t chase after her anymore, making them both forget with momentary kisses and conversations of other things. Old reminisces were brought back; long-lost adventures, musings about where acquaintances had gone off to, what their foolish children had gotten themselves up to and how many grandchildren would come to visit next Winter’s Veil.

    And all the while, the sick, cold pit lodged in her chest sat and festered, coming back to twist her nerves when he said again he’d prefer dinner in bed. She smiled sweetly and kissed his cheek, getting it, unable to shake off the feeling that she shouldn’t tarry along the way.

    The third day came and went.

    The fourth.

    The fifth.

    Khadgar had grown quieter. The rain had stayed all throughout, and Perry wished it would go away and cast the brilliant sunlight back into their home; that the stars would light up the night sky again and they could rush outside and onto a hill, lying down side by side with nothing but the wide vaults of the heavens above. She brought up memory after memory, and he listened and smiled and added on sometimes, but the days were overwhelmingly full of her voice and his love of it.

    On the sixth day, she instructed the stewards to bring two old friends, the best healers she knew in Azeroth, and her children as soon as was possible, then hurried back to her husband’s side, afraid to miss a moment with him.

    Word was brought back that both of her children and their families were in the midst of important work for the factions, and that they would come as soon as possible. A few hours later, Ajelee and Chún Moonleaf came, quickly joining her in the grand, empty ballroom downstairs. She had known Lee far longer; he was an Archdruid, as she was, a druid of balance as well as restoration. He was imposing and quite a bit taller than her, but he had always done his best to treat her and Khadgar with respect. She hadn’t seen much of him, though; he worked as an ambassador most times, and the factions took up much of his time.

    Chún on the other hand, remained a lovely mystery. A pandaren priestess, she had studied extensively at Darnassus’s temple and was blessed by Elune. Perry didn’t put much faith into that–or that she had white dove’s wings, as many priests mumbled in awe–but she knew that she was widely regarded as one of the most powerful holy priestesses in the Alliance.

    They greeted her with smiles, but the happiness was forced, and their eyes shed worry that made Perry’s heart thud heavily against her ribs. She had detailed Khadgar’s condition in her brief letter to them. They wasted no time asking to go up and see him.

    Khadgar was looking out the window as they all came in. The greetings were cordial, and pleasant chatter filled the room while they found an easy way to break the ice on the subject. Perry clambered into bed next to him, sitting and smiling, hand finding his and squeezing a little too tight. The conversation lulled.

    He knew, just as well as his healers.

    “Do either of you want anything?” Perry said, voice bright and loud, filling the gap in their silence. “You both must have come a long way.”

    Lee shook his head politely in silence. Chún just watched her patient, soft hands folded over her robe.

    “Bubbly?” She turned to him. “Do you?”

    Khadgar was looking out the window again. Her smile twitched and faltered, and her throat felt tighter. He took a breath, turning his head to see her with those wondrous blue eyes, getting wearier and wearier by the hour, and smiled. It was light, and did not stay long before his muscles relaxed again on his face.

    “Perry,” he murmured. His voice filled the room, and she let out a shuddering breath, face drawn taut. The word was feeble and weak. Old. Unable to cast more than a few wishes.

    His fingers moved gently against hers, interlacing, caressing. He’d held in his hands the power of gods. The skin was wrinkled and pockmarked. His fingers were thin and tired.

    His thumb moved over hers, squeezing. It was light, but she realized with a tremble that it was all he could manage.

    “Khadgar,” she murmured back, brow starting to tremble and press together, heat burning under her eyes as tears threatened to take away her gaze over him.

    “How long left, do you feel?” Lee asked. The words barely registered in Perry’s ears, but they were crisp and clear.

    Khadgar stroked his wife’s hand, glancing out the window again.

    “Until the rain stops. One last storm to weather through.”

    He turned back to Perry with a calming smile. It stayed as her lip trembled; it stayed when her sorrow fell against his face like the rain. He winced, pulling an arm out, trying in vain to reach up and brush her cheek–but his arm trembled, and his teeth pressed firm together to keep it up. She laid down next to him, curling up, and his hand moved easier, finding the tears along her face and brushing them away.

    “We’ll bring your children as fast as possible,” Lee said, bowing. As he left, Chún tucked Perry in, and under the warm covers the elf curled up against her human husband.

    “Perry,” Khadgar murmured gently, and the heat came to her eyes again. She blinked them away furiously, taking a shuddering breath. She wouldn’t let him leave her sight.

    The pandaren moved back gracefully, tending to the food trays in the room. Perry glanced at her, lips trembling then pressed together firmly.

    “You’re the best there is, Chún. Is there–” She gulped, catching her breath. “Is there something?”

    Chún paused, turning back to them. “Milady Peregrïn, I can treat any wound. Any ailment. Even– Even raise the dead, when the body can still support life. But neither I nor– nor Lee, can prevent, alter, or stop the effects of aging. He’s lived– He’s lived long past any normal point of life for a human. Age is inevitable. I’m sorry.”

    Chún turned away again, and before Perry could reply, Khadgar gently tugged her back down against him. She looked to him, fierce and determined and scared beyond anything else, but she was met with the same quiet smile he’d had when he’d first saw her. That old absent-minded stare. The quiet look of tenderness. His eyes were a home for her heart.

    And where would it be without them?

    She curled in tight against him, praying to Elune the rain never ended. She held him tight throughout the night, barely sleeping, listening to the soft downpour, slender fingers covering his heart to feel its beat.

    Avalon and Anaël and their families came sometime towards dawn. She had fallen asleep finally, and woke when they came in. Lee escorted them, silent, and they stayed back, unsure, looking on. Perry blinked at them, then at the window.

    The rain was lighter. The first rays of sun broke through the grey cover.

    She looked to Khadgar, wide-eyed.

    His eyes opened slow and heavy, as if the weight of the world was trying to press them back. Everything he had to give was to catch a glimpse of her, and against the pressure and heaviness of each muscle, he still managed that tender smile her visage brought.

    “The kids are here,” she murmured, a crystal tear shining in the daylight and dropping against his chin.

    “Please say hello to them.” The words were little more than a ragged whisper. His face was pale. Mortal. Ancient.

    “He says hi,” she said, casting a glance and a pained smile quickly at them then turning back, afraid of looking away. They murmured their love, moving around to be next to their father. She felt them, but couldn’t turn away. She wouldn’t miss this. If she could hold him there, in her eyes, he’d never go.

    Khadgar took a breath. She heard the air drawn in, wheezing like it was moving through a dusty flute, then press out again and rest. He blinked, and didn’t open his eyes nearly as far.

    “Khadgar?” Her voice was quiet, shivering. A second stream glistened down her face.

    “Perry.” There was all the love in the world in that word. All the tenderness of centuries. All the joy and hope and brilliance of the sunrise. It lit up his blue eyes one last time.

    “I love you,” she said, blinking hard to try and keep him in her gaze as it filled up opaque.

    He smiled wider, blissful, blinking again slowly. He breathed out with a murmur. “Love y…”

    The word trailed off. The breath was gone to the air, unable to pull back. The room was silent as the rain ceased, and the sun crept forth from the grey above. His blue eyes were shut. His heart was still.

    The world was still.

    She broke. Tears tumbled wildly, breath jagged in her chest, and her head fell against his. Their white hair wove together, and time unwound. Sometimes there was an empty sun in the sky; sometimes cold stars and the bitter face of Elune. Her family gathered around her, and weakly she noticed that there were many more now; kings and rulers he’d helped standing in the ballroom whose names she couldn’t recall–that they were at the crypt now, his coffin being carried down coarse stone into the depths of the earth–that they were gone again, until her children around her bid her goodnight and Chún gently tucked her in an empty bed.

The cliffside was beautiful.

    “But it’s not as beautiful as you,” he said.

    Perry laughed, the long braid along her chest bouncing along gaily. “Khadgar, has line that ever worked on anyone living?”

    Khadgar grinned, pearly white teeth shining in the sunlight under a well-kept brown beard. His white and brown mane was tied back neatly–she’d prided herself on it looking incredible–and a single bang of white hair crept down over his forehead. His robes billowed out in the wind, and his strong hand took hers.

    “Well, you stayed with me, and I have lines far worse than that, I assure you, darling…”

    She giggled, rolling her eyes and squeezing his hand tight. His grin faded into a loving smile. She looked out at the ocean ahead, then at him, then at him, smile fading slightly. She blinked, brows furrowing slowly.

    “Khadgar?”

    “Perry.”

    She gulped. Logic and reason came flooding in, and the winds blew cold against her legs. She managed a shy smile.

    “Since when did you start dying your hair brown? Since when did you get a beard?” She smirked. “It looks… scratchy.”

    He scoffed. “I think it looks nice!”

    She grinned. “Oh, I never said it didn’t look very, very nice, dear; just might be scratchy against my skin.”

    He made a show of huffing. “Well then I shall keep it extremely nicely kept so it doesn’t scratch your tender skin!”

    She giggled, and he laughed along. It faded a little too fast. She squeezed his hand tighter.

    “Perry,” he said again, voice tender and strong.

    “Tell me I’m awake,” she murmured. “Please, Khadgar, tell me I’m awake and that everything else was a dream.”

    He smiled, eyes tinged in sorrow. “I can’t. One of my wedding vows, which I’ve been very dutiful to keep, my love, was that I would never lie to you.”

    A tremor ran through her, and he tightened his grip on her hand, steadying her.

    “I don’t want to wake up, then,” she said.

    “You have to,” he said simply.

    “No.” She shook her head, frowning slowly. “The world without you–I can’t describe it, Khadgar. The colors are raw, and hard. The birdsong is nothing but lamentation. The food is ash; the wine is tasteless. I can’t see where I’m going, anymore; I just look around and realize where I’ve drifted.”

    Khadgar brushed her cheek, and she realized a tear had lingered there.

    “I will wait for you. And some nights, you may dream of me; every day, I will watch over you with every being of Light there is by my side to keep you safe.”

    She held his hand tighter. “I may live for centuries more, alone. Every day would be an aching wish that the night might bring you back to me.”

    “You’re never going to be alone, Perry,” he said, palm resting along her cheek. “Centuries or not, there is nothing that will keep me from being at your side. Even if you can’t see me; can’t hear me; can’t feel me holding you, nothing will change in all those small affections I’d give you.”

    Another tear fell against his thumb, and he brushed it away with a reassuring smile.

    “I’m going to try and not be an annoying haunt; I promise.”

    She laughed, moving in and resting her head to his shoulder. The laughter turned to shivers, and he soothed them away.

    “Don’t you worry about how long I might wait. Time is of such little concern: all that matters to me is being with you, and seeing you happy. And if– if that means you find someone else, then don’t worry about that–”

    She wrapped her arms around him tight, fierce. “No one else. No one else would ever replace you.”

    He paused, then hugged her tight, petting along her back.

    “I don’t want to wake up. I don’t want you to leave again.” She trembled against him, and he nuzzled against her.

    “You have to, my love,” he murmured. “Because this world would be a much colder place without the warmth of your smile.”

Chún prepared breakfast with the stewards. Lee helped, seating Perry’s children and making sure they were being well cared-for. The distress of their mother being distant so soon after Khadgar’s passing–

    A light footfall came to their ears, and everyone paused.

    Down the curve of one of the many staircases, Peregrïn stepped gracefully, a soft smile along her features, white hair long and braided, pink slender form tucked away in a blue robe that sparkled like her husband’s eyes. She set her feet down along the rug at the base of the steps, glancing up pleasantly at them all.

    “Mom?” Avalon murmured, getting up slowly. Her brother followed suit, worried, hopeful.

    Perry cleared her throat.

    “I’m sorry–” she paused and cleared her throat again, starting louder. “I’m sorry if I gave anyone trouble. I feel much better now–I’m sure, of course, Lee, you’ll want to verify that.”

    Ajelee blinked then nodded slowly.

    Perry chuckled. “Well. Either way, I say we all have a wonderful breakfast and a good day from then on.”

    She walked gracefully to the table. As she approached, the group noted a paper, rolled up in her hand. Anaël asked gently what it was.

    Perry laughed and sat down. “Oh, Elune–it’s something I’m realizing I’m actually rather timid to confess.”

    Avalon frowned quickly. “Mom–”

    Perry held up a hand, for once perfectly calm. Avalon relaxed slightly, perplexed. Perry set the paper down, opening it and folding her hands.

    “It’s the first song I’ve written in a good fifty years, or so. I used to write them all the time, thinking I could sing them to Khadgar, or as lullabies–and every time, I squirreled them away instead.” She grinned, an impish lustre in her eyes. “But I suppose I should try and actually present this one?”

    The party clamored that yes, yes, please, she should.

    Perry smiled, looking down to the paper:

Softly along the winds above/ A darling bird descends / And on its wings there is a prayer / Of which I’ll comprehend

On a tree outside my window / This raven stops and sings / The gentle tune I start up now / With joy I’ll try and bring

“Come” says he, this Raven fair / “Come listen for awhile / To tales long gone within my song / And cast to me your smile.”

Says I, “My dear pretty bird, / I’ll thank you for such gifts” / And on he sang of brilliant things / And darkness ‘round me lifts

So on he sang, this Raven fair / And I his captive one / And through the dawn his feathers bloomed / Until his song was done

Says I, “My dear pretty bird, / I’m blessed that this you shared, / But why, pray tell, did you choose me / To give such tender care?”

The Raven laughed upon its perch / And stared me in the eye / And without word he flew away / Towards the autumn sky

But as he flew a feather fell / And landed in the earth / Upon the tomb of one I loved / Who bid me live with mirth

So on along my days I’ll tread / And dance whene’er I can / And drink and love and merrily / ‘Til I see him once again.

    Perry ended her verses and looked up sweetly to them all. They were silent, and along their faces she could see awe. She glanced over to Khadgar’s seat, where he normally dined. The blue velvet across from her was faded and empty–and yet, she could almost see the outline of his shoulders, facing her.

    She could almost feel his smile. So she put on hers, and faced the day anew with all she could give.

The War of the Thorns AU

@drew-winchester I’m super sorry for this, but I’m also glad I wrote it because it got out some of my own sorrows as a Night Elf main. I can only hope you enjoy it, and that you know any and all stuff I write using Perry in the future will be much, MUCH happier TwT for what it’s worth, I cried writing the ending.

The world around him had no more screams, but only burned in silence.

    Khadgar stepped from his portal to face the ashes of Astranaar. The remains of Kaldorei homes, once a lovely purple against the blue woods, now stood as a mass of cinders and soot. In them, ownerless possessions curled to blackened shapes, and along the cobblestone path, the charred bones of some unlucky persons lay dead. The forest around was silent; no animals stirred, no light shivered save the flames. It lay in shock, unable to even tremble in fear anymore.

    Above him, a mass of blue specs swirled, discordant and erratic. The Archmage frowned, squinting, then felt his stomach roll over and his throat expand as if to heave out. Hundreds of wisps, the souls of the slaughtered dead, whisked about, frightened and haphazard. Without anyone to calm them, anyone to guide them, they whirled about madly, in a perpetual limbo. Khadgar shook his head slowly, eyes pained, looking up among them all. He had known a few of them–there was a child among the Astranaar population who had a knack for getting sick. The Archmage had been one of many to contribute aid in healing her… again. And now, she was up there, mindless and scared.

    No one would come for them. Not for a long time, if ever. The woods were silent after the battle. They were a forgotten massacre, without record or graves.

    The Archmage shook his head again, turning away, a shiver wracking his body. How many dead in only one town–how many towns burned along the way?

    How far along had the armies of the Horde burned?

    How far had they gone against the Kaldorei forces?

    How many Night Elves survived?

    His face paled, and he summoned another portal hurriedly, murmuring a sorrowful parting for the deceased, hurrying through–

    Up the shore, the edge of Darkshore, the first town dipping into Ashenvale, a beautiful little inn held by Orendil Broadleaf. He had taken Perry there on one of their anniversaries–and, as was his luck, it had rained most of the time. That proved to be quite nice, however, it had given him a reason to hold her close. “Warmth,” he had said, and she had raised an eyebrow with that lovely, small grin–

    She had come to fight alongside her people against the armies.

    How many survived?

    He portaled up Darkshore. The Grove of the Ancients–

    He let out a cry of horror, covering his mouth.

    The Ancients, Ents of infinite patience, wisdom, stories of old times forgotten by book-keepers, were husks of fire now. Behind their kind eyes, orange crackled and tore; along their manes of leaves, embers danced and nibbled their way through. The ground crunched with their bones, and next to them, Goblins had set up large, oily shredding machines, sawblades ready to carve through and dissect them for war-fuel.

    The Archmage stumbled back, looking up the path in fear. Above him, dark clouds gathered, and thunder rolled low in the distance.

    He took a breath, murmuring the arcane words again, summoning another portal–

    Lor’danel. The last hope before Teldrassil itself, the home of the Kaldorei–

    He stepped out of the portal into a blazing building.

    He yelped, quickly dashing outside, a heavy wooden beam crashing down onto the spot he had once stood. His eyes widened as he looked back; the once-proud inn caved in as its skeleton broke. He looked around slowly, face drained as white as his hair.

    Bodies lay in terrible abandon along the streets of the small town. The names came to Khadgar’s mind, and his breath left him in a sob, tears welling up in his eyes. He blinked them back; there would be time to grieve the dead. He gulped, looking around, a few unlucky Gilneans and even one or two Gnomes scattered about too. For as many civilians as there were, there were three or more of the once-mighty Sentinel army of the Kaldorei.

    There had been a time when he had thought those warrior women were unbeatable. That time was over, now.

    Which meant–

    His heart quickened like a sick drum, and he turned around the town frantically, looking for her. She couldn’t be among the dead, strewn about like an abandoned stuffed animal. Perry must have survived–

    He paused, looking across the waters to Teldrassil, mouth falling open.

    The giant tree, one of the most beautiful places in all of Azeroth, was an inferno in the night.

    He tried to speak, to say anything to break the silence, but nothing came. How many memories of that place he had, he did not know, but the tower of smoke and fire was absolute. There would be no more. It was dead.

    Tears slowly stained his cheeks, and he leaned against his staff heavily, shutting his eyes. His shoulders fell, and every thought vanished from his mind.

    Everything except…

    Except–

    Perry.

    He looked around the shore again, trembling then taking a sharp breath in and squaring his jaw. She was a fighter, his Perry, and he knew she would have fought bravely. And, he knew, she was smart; if the battle was over, she– she must’ve fallen back; must have found a portal– away. If she wasn’t among the dead, then he knew he could find her again. He would. She had found him, so long ago; there was nothing, nothing, NOTHING! that would keep him from her!

    He transformed into a sleek black raven, soaring upwards, looking over the battlefield.

    Hundreds lay dead, and the fertile ground ran red with their blood. The massacre was indiscriminate, and Khadgar had a sickening pleasure fill him to note that there were attackers as well among the dead. He pushed the thought aside; he would not take sides in this idiotic bloodshed; he was neutral to the petty squabbling of these– genocides–

    How could anyone be neutral in a world like this?..

    He shook his head. Focus. Find Perry. Even if those questions haunt you, even if you cannot sleep, you can at least sleep easier with her curled close–or, at least, not here among the dead on the battlefield.

    She was not there.

    Khadgar landed, shifting back to human, breathing hard. Rain started to fall against his brow, and he let out a small chuckle. It built, and finally a laugh escaped him, strong and crippling, one without mirth or even the faintest trace of happiness, one that turned to bitter sorrow for the dead as the rain covered his tears. They would not be buried for so long, if ever. They might never find rest.

    The Archmage gulped, letting out his breath again and shivering in the cold rain, glancing around the miserable shoreline. There were catapults strewn about, facing the great, burning tree. They had done their job; their owners were off celebrating.

    Khadgar paused.

    His heart sank.

    Along the shore, further down, there was one more body.

    He gulped, chest pounding. He took a step, then stopped, shutting his eyes. He gulped again.

    “It can’t be her,” he mumbled. “It won’t be her.”

    He shifted to the raven form, flying closer, quick. Mid-flight, he jerked back, wings flapping wildly, and shifted to human mid-air, crashing to the muddy ground and stumbling forward in a desperate sprint.

    There was her white hair. Her pink skin. Her blue armor.

    Her blue armor, pierced with the arrows of the Banshee Queen.

    Her blood, dark, stained and pooled and dried along the ground.

    Her eyes, which had once held him in joy, which he had revered above every star in the night sky, open and dull.

    Empty.

    He sank on his knees before her, gasping for breath, eyes wild. He reached out to take her away from all this, hands hitting the wooden shafts of the arrows and trembling, stopping. He looked down at them slowly as if registering them for the first time, then slowly looked back to her face.

    “Perry?..”

    Rain fell, and wild tears blurred his vision. He brushed them away frantically, taking her arms, squeezing tight then trembling and loosening his grip, not wanting to hurt her.

    “Perry. Perry?”

    He shook her lightly, and her head fell limply to one side before rolling forward entirely.

    “Perry?!”

    He sobbed, shaking her firmly. Her body spasmed with his force then fell silent again. Lightning cracked overhead, and thunder rolled, overpowering, futile to fight against.

    Khadgar shook, putting a hand under her chin, tilting her head up again slowly. Her eyes were dull, and yet a vague mixture of deep sorrow and terror still ran over her features. Her last emotion.

    She had died afraid, and he had not been there.

    He crumbled.

    The storm raged on, his yell lost to the winds. How long he raged, the sky alone knew, but the beach exploded around him with arcane, tearing away the sands, overturning the fields of grass and mud, boiling the waters.

    He fell silent again.

    The storm died down to a calm, quiet rain. The same kind he had listened to on his wedding night after Perry had fallen asleep in his arms, their love consummated, their lives pledged in full to the other. Without shame, without secrets, without a second thought, he had been hers, body and soul. And she had been his.

    And she was gone.

    In silence, not daring to break the stillness of the battlefield, Archmage Khadgar slowly collected his wife in his arms one last time. He passed a hand over her face, shutting her eyes. It came to rest on her cold cheek, and he pressed his lips softly to hers. There was so much passion in gentleness. It was over far too soon.

    “Wait for me,” he murmured softly, a single final tear moving down his numb face, falling onto hers. “Wait for me, please, my love. I don’t know how much longer I shall be, here. I cannot bear to be away from you. But I must be, until this is done or I die trying to fix things, and either way, please wait for me. Losing you now is indescribable–if I must be without you after this life as well, I do not think I should ever find joy again.”

    He kissed her cold forehead and lifted her up. Her head fell against his breast, and he murmured the words to one last portal. It opened, and he took the one corpse he’d never wished to find off the battlefield, back to Karazhan, their home, to bury it properly.

💜 ;A; Oh my... wow, this made me cry. What a ride it was to read this! Yup, I cried. And it’s a compliment, yes! I love things so emotionally intense, so well written that I feel like I’ve stopped breathing until the end (may it me a story, a movie, a song). It takes skills to catch someone in a story and make them feel strongly! So, really, this is amazing!

Thank you so much for writing this! You write very well, it was like seeing each moment before my eyes, like a movie. That part with Khadgar turning into a raven and then back to human and running toward her, for example, I can see it so clearly it’s like a memory now. I admire this so much.

I love how your story goes crescendo, being more intense with each step. You say you put some of your own sorrows as a night elf player in it, and I can tell, it feels very... genuine, true. And then it’s going to this heartbreaking end. What he says at the end is... aahh.. ;; so moving.

I really loved your story more than I can express. Thank you so much!! 💜 Really!!