All characters and situations are from Warcraft and belong to Blizzard. Don't sue! This is just a brief ficlet that I've been wanting to write. Rated M to be safe. Enjoy.

How long had it been?

He couldn't be sure, time had no meaning here.

The cloth covering his eyes itched terribly, but he couldn't move his hands to scratch the irritating tingle.

The darkness was a pool of memories: things that had happened, things he might have changed, scenarios he wished he could alter...

Inevitably the real memories became muddled, twisted and shaped together with distortions of the truth. Truth? What did it matter. Time continued to pass. Truth could only be told by one side of the battle, not by those locked away in a lightless prison.

Yes, the truth was told by the victors, any version of facts they decide to spin would be accepted, any unpleasant details they chose to omit would be forgotten.

He wondered if there were any truths, or lack thereof, about him.

---

Sometimes she would come to visit. He couldn't be sure how often. Perhaps every few years? Perhaps more?

She would come to taunt him sometimes. At others she was filled with pity, a pity like one might have for a weak, broken animal.

But sometimes, she was gentle. Sometimes she would let him talk and listen with an unbiased ear, allowing him to pour out all the festering thoughts that clouded his mind. It was usually incoherent babble, but he could sense that she didn't mind, the air changing around them as she nodded imperceptibly. Those types of visits were soothing, made it bearable to continue until the next one came.

But this was not one of those times.

"Illidan, are you awake?" A feminine voice came, twinged with sarcasm.

He grunted from his chained position. He could already tell it was going to be one of the mocking visits. So be it, perhaps he could make the most of it and use the conversation to keep his wit sharp.

Unlikely. She was relentless.

"I see you're reverting to a more animalistic state. Have you become so feral and savage that you can no longer speak and must communicate in grunts?"

He had intended on retaliating with a stinging remark of his own, but his tongue always seemed to get in the way, especially at the start. Instead he remained still, trying to let no more sounds escape him. Listening, he tried to pinpoint her position in the room, but it seemed she was always very good at hiding.

"Nothing to say, then? No heartbreakingly mournful self-reflection? No personal loathing, or pent up hatred you wish to release against your brother? I'm a little disappointed." The musical voice laughed cruelly.

To him, as much as the words pierced his battered heart, the sound was beautiful. He loved listening to her speak, and even though her tone was laced with venom and malice, he didn't think he could ever hear enough of it.

Wetting his mouth and throat, Illidan rasped, "Go away." It was the last thing he really wanted, he very much wanted her to stay and talk, even if her words were sharp and vicious. But he couldn't allow her to know that they affected him so. He was strong, he had lived this long in solitude so far, let her think that he no longer cared.

Oh, please don't go, please don't...

He heard the feigned pout in her voice. "You would send me away? Very well, I will trouble you no more..." Footfalls rang out softly against the stone floor.

His mind screamed at him. No! You can't let her go! She may never return, you fool! Then you will be completely alone.

"Wait!" He tried to cry out, though it sounded to be no louder than a whisper, his throat was so dry and raw.

The retreating footsteps stopped, and he swore he could feel her frown. "I'm sorry, Illidan. Haven't you learned yet that there are consequences for your actions? I would think you could understand that better than most." A flash of light and she was gone.

His stomach was in knots. How could he be so stupid? Now his agony would be ten-fold, wondering, waiting if she was ever to return. Had he destroyed the one beacon that still could pierce through the darkness of his prison?

The chimes and bells of her voice rang out in his memory. He would have to grasp onto it, keep it safe. The words were not important, they never were.

She will come back, she has to. But he wasn't so sure.

---

The sounds changed in his memory, their essence never as rich and full as when she was actually there. He had no idea how much time had passed. Maybe she was just punishing him, making him pay for his thanklessness. She steadied him, why oh why had he sent her away?

So much time, time for the blackness to thicken, time for the darkness to deepen. If only she were there...

There was no face to picture, no body to embrace, only her voice. And he clung to it like a dying man. But he was dying, a bit of him died every moment he was confined. If only he could touch his magic again... it had been even longer since he had done so. But that ache had long since waned. Her absence was much more fresh in his mind.

Maybe he would sleep now. Embrace the blissful oblivion that only it could offer.

---

When he awoke he knew she was present.

"Miss me?" She asked sweetly, as though nothing had happened. But he knew the sweetness was deceptive. It was to be another taunting visit. But he didn't care. She was back...

He tried to clear his throat, half-wheezing. "I'm... I'm sorry. For sending you away."

Illidan had the sense that she waved her hand dismissively. "It does not matter. That is in the past."

He thought on that statement; she spoke of time so lightly. "How long has it been?" Illidan asked quietly.

She giggled, and he thought it to be the most natural and enchanting sound he'd ever heard. "Probably not nearly as long as you might think. Tell me, how much did you torture yourself after I'd gone?"

"Not nearly enough," he replied sadly, though inwardly his heart was soaring at her return. There was some hope yet.

"That is unfortunate," he heard her walking slowly about the room, ambling even in a small circle. "I had hoped to play a little game with you, but I'm not sure yet that you are deserving."

You can play whatever games you want, toy with me, say hurtful things, I don't care. I'm just happy you're back.

"What type of game?" He decided to ask, cautiously. Her pacing stopped, but she did not answer immediately, preferring to let the question hang in the air a moment.

"What type of game would you like to play?" She asked suddenly, her tone lower and obviously changed.

His breath caught in his throat. What was she asking? She began walking again, but this time it was towards him.

She had never come this close, she'd always remained on the far side of the prison, shrouded in darkness, her voice carrying across the distance like a dream.

His nose picked up her scent. What was that smell? Some kind of flower? He could never tell those types of things, he had failed at becoming a druid. His thoughts traveling to druids inevitably began to lead him in a direction that he knew would spoil the moment but was helpless to stop. With an inward snarl he seethed...

Malfurion would know...

The anger came upon him like a storm and he knew rationally that he should just let it melt off of him, forget about his brother now else he might say or do something else to compromise her visits, but he couldn't stop himself.

Chains clinked faintly as he shuddered, pressure raged behind his forehead threatening to set the cloth covering his burnt out eyes aflame. His brother always had to control everything, thinking himself superior in all ways. Well, Illidan wasn't one to be controlled. He was just an animal, a beast! A creature to be caged, a thing whose actions didn't follow the same path as his brother's own.

He could not think of anyone who had betrayed him more. His own flesh and blood couldn't even understand.

Her small gasp brought him back, her presence drawing him down from his own ruined mind. She seemed to have sensed the change in him, the fury rolling off in waves, the smell of sweat permeating the stale air, the inscribed runes on his body glowing faintly.

"What troubles you?" She asked, genuinely concerned.

She stood less than an arm's length away, but he could not touch her. He imagined he could almost feel the heat from her body.

"I... I am not sure." His voice trembled as the anger ebbed.

"You shouldn't worry about Malfurion." She said, as though she'd been reading his thoughts and had known what was bothering him all along.

Illidan's throat protested as he made a sound something like a growl. He didn't want her voice tainted with talk of him. That would not do.

"And you shouldn't speak of him." His tone was low and menacing.

She made a sudden sharp noise, as though she'd heard something extremely funny. "Or what? You'll send me away for good? I don't think so. Not only would you not be able to bear it, the very thought of me no longer coming to see you sends you whimpering into the corner like an abused animal, but the say on it was never really yours to begin with. I can come and go as I please." She took another step closer, so much so that he was certain he could feel her breath against his chest.

"I can do what I please."

With the lightest of touches, one delicate finger came up and began tracing the lines of arcane inscription along his arm.

He tried to hold himself perfectly still, but he couldn't suppress the hitch in his breath. It was like a feather sweeping across his skin, a soft tickle of the wind.

She hummed something quietly as her finger ran over his muscled forearm, an old tune that he barely recognized until she suddenly stopped and giggled again. It was a wicked little sound.

"How long has it been since you've been touched? Centuries, I would imagine! Or maybe it's only been a decade since your imprisonment began. I can't really say with certainty..." She snickered again, amused by her own games.

Illidan wasn't really paying attention to her words now. She'd always been just a voice. A presence. And now, this faintest of contacts as unassuming as it might be, was affecting him more profoundly than any embrace he could seem to remember.

When her hand abruptly withdrew, he couldn't restrain the surprised cry that left his lips. Quickly, he snapped his mouth shut and slumped back against the wall, trying to emit an air of disinterest.

But he could feel the superior smile on her face. She knew she'd won again. "I'll be back... sometime." She promised noncommittally, voice slowly fading into nothingness.

He was alone again.

---

He had much to think on to occupy his time. The small contact was enough to fill his head and sustain him for a short lifetime. He wanted to be angry at her, knowing full well that she meant to tease him, say cruel things to add to his torment... but he couldn't be. It had been far too glorious.

He had wanted to beg for more, but hadn't been able to bring himself to do so. Maybe next time he would. Was pride so important after all? Here in his prison he supposed it shouldn't be. With all eternity before him why should it matter if he lowered himself into asking or pleading for something he wanted if there was even a chance at receiving it? It was the only pleasure he had found, he should seize it whenever the opportunity was available.

Yes, he decided. He would ask her to touch him again when she returned. Whenever that was.

---

Illidan hadn't heard her come; that was odd. She must have a knack for knowing when he'd drifted off into a fitful and troubled sleep.

But she was quiet this time. Damn it. That's not what he wanted.

Coughing dryly, he thought to speak first this time, perhaps coax her into conversation and lead her to his request. "Welcome back." He began awkwardly.

When there was no reply, he could feel himself quickly growing frustrated. He'd waited all this time, made the choice to subject himself to humiliation by asking for her touch only to be met with her infuriating silence. He wasn't going to have it.

"I know you're there," he growled. "You've come all this way, let torrents of time pass so you can sit in my prison and say nothing? Have you nothing better to do?!" He should remain calm, she was trying to rouse him into saying something foolish. He knew it. But he was overcome with emotion.

"Why? Why do you torment me? Your presence calms and destroys me simultaneously. I hang here with nothing to cling to but our past meetings and hopes for the ones to come. Why must you add to my misery by denying me this small thing?"

His chest rose and fell in deep breaths, his hands clenched into fists. She said nothing, but he could hear the gentle exhalation of her breath, a faint sigh.

"Feeling guilty?" He ventured, no longer caring if he upset her. Let her leave. He had been prepared to bare his soul and beg for just another minor touch to ease the pain and give himself the briefest moment of comfort. She wasn't going to get it from him now.

Continuing with a sneer, "Well you should. You come here to make yourself feel better, not me. Don't think I can't see it. You come to satisfy your own guilt, and seeing me and what you've done has only made it worse. Hasn't it? We are selfish creatures, you and I. Perhaps we belong together after all." And he laughed, a terrifying and maniacal sound, but the first he had uttered since his imprisonment began. How long ago was that?

He thought he heard her stifle a minute cry. Was she weeping? She left without another sound.

Good, perhaps next time she wouldn't toy with him so idly.

---

"Hello." She greeted him conversationally. He could hear the smile in her voice, and he could not suppress making one of his own in return.

It was the longest he'd gone without worrying if she'd come back. He had known she would. Had he won their last encounter? Illidan wasn't sure when their meetings had become about triumphing over the other, but he was certain it was something she had started. Why a competition? Why not just conversation, gentle and soothing as it had been sometimes near the beginning? He sighed. At least this time she appeared in better spirits, perhaps she'd left the sarcasm behind.

Clearing his throat, he rumbled a quick response. "Hello."

Quiet ensued, and after a minute he thought he'd scream if she didn't say something more.

He heard her feet. She was pacing again. Perhaps she was thinking of what to say; that calmed him some.

"Illidan, I... I wanted to apologize." Her voice drifted closer and washed over him like music. The flowery smell he had caught a whiff of before wafted into his nose, which turned his thoughts to Malfurion just like it had before.

Damn it! I don't want to think about him while she's here!

She drew closer, shuffling nervously from foot to foot.

"Apologize for what?" He prompted to lead her once she hesitated to continue.

He had the impression that she was wringing her hands together nervously. What would she have to be nervous about? She'd never expressed any kind of apprehension in his presence so far. Unless she just wanted him to think she was anxious about something...

Shaking his head he put those thoughts aside. He'd never enjoy her being there if he was certain every move held a deceptive purpose. He needed to just listen.

"For being cruel." She finally said, both palms coming to rest against the skin of his chest. His lungs inhaled sharply at the contact, his own hands itched to move and hold her in return. But he could not.

Gently applying pressure into the runed flesh, she whispered up at him, warm breath coating his face.

"Do you forgive me?"

He opened his mouth, a strangled cry resembling a 'yes' coming out after a moment. He felt her smile again, apparently pleased with his response.

Running her hands along his abdomen and bringing her lips to rest against one of the purple tattoos on his throat, she murmured against him, "You might regret saying that."

Illidan struggled to make sense of her words, both unsure of what she was implying and having difficulty deciphering their inherent meaning for he was quite lost under the feel of her hands and mouth against his skin. He struggled against his bonds, wanting nothing more than to crush her lips to his and embrace her in the most passionate way, but he was unable, so he forced himself to reply instead.

"What... what do you mean?" He stammered, a small groan escaping him as her hands traveled lower down his torso.

Her tongue left her mouth to leave a warm trail of saliva down his neck, following the line of one of the runes. Standing on her toes she leaned into him so she could place her mouth next to his ear.

"Because I'm not finished yet."

She teased him for what seemed like hours, days even. The barest of touches skimming everywhere, drawing him to the brink over and over but never allowing him to go over. It was exquisite, wonderful and torturous. He thought he might explode.

He could only take so much. He screamed at her, the foulest curses he could think of, the chains holding him in place clattered and shook violently, threatening to break free. He flailed his arms with every ounce of strength within him, but it wasn't enough.

"Release me!!" He roared at her, at the top of his lungs; the entire prison seemed to shake. "I can take this imprisonment no more! Release me!"

The cries did not abate for some time.

---

A young Kaldorei peered nervously over his shoulder at the bellows emanating from Illidan's prison. Califax placed a reassuring hand on the elf's shoulder.

"Do not worry, he gets like this sometimes."

The elf nodded, hesitantly agreeing but anxious nonetheless. "Is there no threat of him escaping?" He dared to ask.

Califax shook his head. "Nay, it has held him this long. But even the strongest cannot hope to elude madness after living in complete solitude for over 8000 years."

The End