"It's finished, beloved. The Lich King is defeated."
Kneeling there in a seemingly random spot of the Emerald Dragonshrine, Tyrande Whisperwind smiles softly as she brushes her fingers through the grass in front of her. This was where Malfurion Stormrage had manifested for the last time. Where they'd shared their final moment together only a few days ago. Strangely enough, it feels like it happened five minutes ago and a lifetime ago, both at the same time.
Still, as far as points of contact go, it was the best Tyrande was going to get here in Northrend. After the death of the Lich King and the confiscation of the Helm of Domination, they had made their way back to the Emerald Dragonshrine. Celebration was in order, but the frozen wastes of Icecrown were somehow much more foreboding than the frozen wastes of Dragonblight. Everyone was perfectly happy spending the necessary time to travel back down to the southern shores of the continent in order to get away from that citadel of dark metal. A monument to the Lich King's evil if ever there was one.
Ysera had assured them that it would be dealt with in time, and frankly, Tyrande believed her. After all, Northrend was home to not just the Green Dragonflight, but all of the others as well. There was just no way that they would let such a terrible thing remain, not now that they knew about it.
As for Tyrande herself… while the others had begun celebrating their triumph over the Scourge's Master outside of the Emerald Dragonshrine, Tyrande had begged off in order to come here and say one last goodbye. It wasn't just what Malfurion deserved, but also what the Priestess of Elune needed. She'd had her vengeance. She could finally put this all to rest.
For a long moment, Tyrande stares down at the grass where her beloved had stood upon his last manifestation on Azeroth. Her fingers remain curled through the verdant foliage. And then finally… she lets out a low breath and pulls her hand back. A weight leaves her chest and the High Priestess of Elune is left feeling surprisingly light as she slowly rises to her feet.
"Tyrande…"
No sooner has she done so then Ysera's familiar voice calls out to her, causing Tyrande to turn and regard the Aspect of Dreams as she approaches in her humanoid form. Smiling, wiping an errant bit of moisture from under her eye, Tyrande bows her head.
"Lady Ysera."
Coming to a stop before her, Ysera reaches out and places one hand on Tyrande's shoulder, the other coming up to tuck under the Priestess' chin, lifting her head. Once upon a time, the Dragon Aspect had been Tyrande's teacher. But it had been centuries since they last spoke. And yet, Ysera looks upon her with fondness in her gaze, showing no sign of being upset that Tyrande and Cenarius came and disrupted her slumber, begging her to join them on their quest.
"We are alone, Tyrande. Alone and unobserved. I think we can set aside formalities for the evening, don't you? I count you as my friend… and I hope you can see me the same way."
Tyrande resists the urge to scoff. That is hard for her, in the same way it's hard for her to treat the Lord of the Forest with anything less than the reverence he deserves. Both Ysera and Cenarius were old when Tyrande was still young, and wise when she was but a mewling child trying to make her way in the world. Both of them had been there for her all her life, teaching her, advising her, and comforting her through every trial and tribulation.
Still… Ysera is right. They are alone. So, smiling softly, Tyrande bobs her head in a nod.
"Of course… Ysera."
Leaving off any formal form of address certainly feels strange, but it doesn't necessarily feel wrong. Ysera's widening smile makes it feel quite right in fact, as the Dragon Aspect's gaze flickers past her to where she'd been kneeling for a moment.
"… Have you finished your business here, my friend?"
Glancing back at the nondescript spot of grass, no sign that it was any more important than any of the other grass around it, Tyrande lets out a watery chuckle.
"… I have."
With that, Ysera places an arm around her shoulders and sweeps her away, guiding her through the winding paths of the Emerald Dragonshrine and taking Tyrande, for all intents and purposes, on a walk. For a brief time, they do so in companionable silence, Tyrande simply basking in her mentor and friend's presence. But finally, Ysera speaks.
"I know how much it hurts to lose the one you love, Tyrande. I know how it feels as though a piece of yourself has been cut out of you and set on fire, and that to move on without that piece feels all but impossible."
Tyrande lets out a shuddering breath at that, well aware that Ysera has suffered her own fair share of loss throughout her incredibly long life. Of course, things were a little different for the two of them. Ysera was a dragon and at the end of the day, dragons tended not to have singular mates. Especially not the Aspects, who were said to have many consorts by which they made sure that clutches of fresh eggs were fertilized.
That did not mean Ysera loved her consorts or any of the others in her flight any less to be fair, but it did mean she didn't fully grasp Tyrande's experience, the High Priestess having loved the same man for over ten thousand years. And yet…
"Malfurion will always be a part of me. I don't think I could set him aside if I tried. And while I've lost him… I have not lost our love. Our memories together."
Ysera blinks at that, the Dragon Aspect looking slightly surprised.
"… I am pleased to hear you say as much, Tyrande. From what Cenarius had said…"
The Lady of Dreams trails off, no doubt feeling a little embarrassed to have accidentally thrown her adoptive son under the bus. But Tyrande isn't offended, nor is she upset that her loved ones have been talking about her behind her back. That was just what loved ones did… it showed how much they cared. Still, looking down at her hands for a moment, Tyrande chuckles.
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"I feel… strangely at peace with everything if I'm being honest. Yes, Malfurion is gone. So is Illidan. I will always miss the Stormrage Brothers. My mate. My friend. Despite ten thousand years, it still feels like they were taken from me far too soon."
Left unsaid is that Illidan's imprisonment meant he spent those ten thousand years in less than stellar conditions. And Tyrande would have to live with her guilt for her part in that. But his final words rung in her ears all the same. To never stop fighting.
Clenching her hands into fists, Tyrande looks up at the starry night sky over head, remembering for a moment how it felt to be a conduit for her Goddess. Elune and she had been one in a way that had never happened before… and would likely never happen again. It had not just been Elune who had taken over and possessed Tyrande… but rather, a seamless melding, in which Priestess and Goddess were unified in their purpose.
The Lich King had died, the spirit used to make the malevolent entity purified out of the Helm entirely. And then the Helm was removed, never to be worn by a denizen of Azeroth ever again. It had been a lot of power… but Tyrande found that she did not long for more of it. Rather, she had used it alongside Elune for its purpose, and now felt… at peace.
"I know that wisdom would say you cannot find closure in vengeance, Ysera. I know that wisdom would say that if you seek vengeance, you're better off digging two graves. One for you and one for your enemy."
Tilting her head to the side, Tyrande smiles wryly.
"I was fully prepared for that outcome, as I'm sure you've guessed."
The Dragon Aspect is quiet at that but nevertheless inclines her head in silent acknowledgment of Tyrande's words.
"Alas… that was not what happened. I did not have to die to ensure the Lich King was ended. He is gone and here I remain."
There's a pause before Ysera gives Tyrande's shoulder another squeeze.
"And you are… okay with that?"
Chuckling again, this time at Ysera's probing tone, Tyrande looks down from the stars and into the Dragon Aspect's eyes.
"I am. Malfurion and Illidan… both of them made it quite clear in their final words to me that I was not to give in to despair. I have done my best to stay true to their memories, and I will continue to do so going forward. My time on this world is not yet over… and the work is far from done, isn't it?"
The Lich King might be dead… and so was Archimonde as well. The Burning Legion's Invasion of Azeroth had been stymied and the head of the Scourge had been decapitated. And yet, the threat was not over. The Legion was still out there, and their eyes were still turned towards Tyrande's world. She wouldn't let them have it. She wouldn't let them have a single inch of ground, not if she could help it.
"Hm. No… no it is not. Though there's no harm in relaxing, even if for a single evening."
Tyrande blinks, pulled from her thoughts by Ysera's meaningful tone. The Priestess of Elune can't help but chuckle softly.
"You almost sound like Shandris."
Lifting a single sculpted eyebrow, the disguised dragon hums.
"Ah, Shandris. How is the little one doing these days? She sounds like she's gotten wise."
Smirking, Tyrande nods her head.
"Not so little anymore. In fact, before I left for Northrend, I named her Sentinel General."
Ysera's eyes widen at that and Tyrande can't help but be a little amused by how surprised the Dreamer looks and sounds.
"My… little Shandris? General? Really?"
Amusement mounting, Tyrande just nods some more.
"In truth she hasn't been little for quite a long time, Ysera. She is over ten thousand years old, just like me."
"Hm. I suppose you're right… still, it's good that you have her. And Cenarius and your people. And… even your new allies."
Here Ysera turns contemplative, and Tyrande can't help but think about the others celebrating outside of the Dragonshrine. Truth be told, when Ysera says 'new allies' Tyrande's mind first goes to Prince Kael'thas and his Blood Elves… but that's not when the Aspect of Nature is talking about.
"I must say, I never expected to see orcs of all things fighting so hard for Azeroth. Especially not after what happened to Alexstrasza. Even still… that Chieftain of theirs. Rognak. He's special, isn't he?"
Ysera's tone sounds conversational, but also probing. For a moment, Tyrande wonders if the Dragon Aspect knows about Shandris' little push… but discards that, figuring it was impossible.
"Yes. Very special. Cenarius and I believe his leadership is what singlehandedly kept the orcs from falling back into old habits when they arrived on Kalimdor. Their Warchief, an orc named Thrall, is a good and honorable being… but he is not infallible. And if not for Rognak's actions, things might have turned out very differently between our two peoples."
Taking this in, Ysera hums for a moment before nodding.
"I enjoyed my conversation with the young orc. And as I said before, I do not hold the actions of the few against the many. I believe you when you say the orcs of Kalimdor have been honorable and steadfast allies. I have seen how they fight these past few days, and I have seen their drive to protect Azeroth with my own two eyes. It is why I allowed it when the young Chieftain asked if he and his comrades could learn at the feet of one of my kin."
Tyrande's eyes widen in surprise at that. That was about the biggest seal of approval that Ysera could grace Rognak and his Warsong Druids with. To learn druidism from a Green Dragon was essentially on par with learning it from Lord Cenarius himself. Which to be fair, many of them had already gotten to do… but there was a difference between the Lord of the Forest and a Green Dragon. Different techniques, to be sure.
Depending on what they were taught, Rognak and his fellow orcs would be an even more frighteningly effective force on whatever battlefield they found themselves on next.
"That said… my sister still bears the scars of what the Dragonmaw Clan did to her. As such, I believe it would be a good idea for your expedition to depart from Northrend before the Dragon Queen returns from her current trip abroad. I cannot say for sure what Alexstrasza would do if she came back to find my favored people interacting with the kin of those who did her such harm."
Tyrande blinks at that, before blanching as she imagines it. Fully turning towards Ysera, she bows at the waist to the Dragon Aspect.
"Thank you for your advice, Lady Ysera. We shall set sail as soon as possible."
But Ysera just laughs and pulls Tyrande up by her shoulders, shaking her head.
"It's alright. The situation is not yet dire. And don't get me wrong… the valor of your new allies is not in question. I admire what the young Chieftain and his clan have achieved so far."
Ysera keeps on walking and Tyrande follows her, a companionable silence falling between them yet again. Until finally, the Aspect of Dreams breaks it once more.
"… I still find myself worrying about you, Tyrande. I understand that it will be some time before you are ready to love again the way you loved Malfurion. Perhaps it will never happen. Even still, we all have our needs, don't we? Do be sure not to neglect yours."
Tyrande's eyes damn near bulge out of her skull at THAT insinuation. It was commonly understood but never stated out loud that dragons, the Aspects included, could be somewhat… promiscuous. But even still…
"You really DO sound like Shandris now, Ysera."
Far from chagrined or ashamed, Ysera's eyes twinkle as she chuckles in amusement.
"Well. I always did think Shandris was a clever sort."
Before Tyrande can offer up a retort to that, nearby voices catch her ear, distracting her from her conversation with the Dragon Aspect for a moment. Only a moment… and yet, when she turns back to Ysera, the Aspect of Dreams has vanished, disappearing without a trace.
Furrowing her brow, Tyrande listens a little more closely… and realizes that Ysera has led them right to that lesson she'd spoken of earlier. She can hear the sound of Nishera's voice as the Keeper of the Garden teaches Rognak and his fellow Warsong Druids a unique druidic technique. She can hear the excitement in Rognak's voice and the grumbling in the others as he manages to learn what Nishera is teaching far faster than they do, the prodigy that he is.
For a brief moment, Tyrande hesitates. Then, she lets her feet carry her closer. Just to watch, of course.