So this routine went for a number of centuries. Illidan pressed into Maiev as hard as he could, finding little comments to set her off and then nursing small wounds on various parts of his body. It grew to be more of a game than anything else; Maiev’s company was not unbearable and she actually became more amiable as time passed, save when she wasn’t abusing, belittling, or physically torturing him. He learned a little of what she called her bleak past, told during times when the insults ran dry and there was nothing better to do.
Maiev believed that keeping Illidan’s brain working was better than just letting him sit and gather dust on the cave floor, so she often exercised him with riddles and stories along with her sharp wit and nails. Illidan was not a rockhead like she had previously surmised and could more often than not keep up with her mindgames. She still tried tempting him with her face and body but after quite a few years of little to no response from him, she lapsed into just being her (almost) normal self. She was still strict with him and tolerated no ill comments toward her from him; she wanted to make sure he still wasn’t fully enjoying himself, as he was in prison and all, but she found that she actually enjoyed spending long days that eventually turned into years with him. They discussed philosophical topics and often argued, being of two very different points of beliefs, but sometimes these talks lasted hours upon hours, and that was when she enjoyed the time the most.
She still couldn’t help herself from watching him though. His skin eventually began paling as he was denied the sun and lost the rich royal purple hue, but his eternal shape lingered, and she could not pry her eyes off of him. The handful of times Malfurion and other figures of authority had come down to check on the Watcher and her prisoner, she had caught herself staring at Illidan while being briefed on news from above and asked how her progress with The Betrayer was going.
Furion’s eyebrows had arched more than once at her inattentiveness to his comments. She was quick with apology and excuse, but she saw him shake his head as he exited to the world above.
Illidan had noticed and laughed at her for it. She had cuffed him and told him to watch himself, but the anger in her eyes as she punished him for his actions against her eventually turned to only a mild scold and then to sarcasm all together. Maiev caught herself laughing (actual laughter and not a mirthless shriek) at more than one of his comments, and hastily stifled herself before giving the Demon Hunter the satisfaction.
She just could not stay fierce with him. She didn’t know why, but every year she spent with him in that prison earned him more and more respect in her eyes. He was beautiful and sharp, skilled and had a mind like a whip, the only other being she had ever conversed with who could keep up with and return her biting comments. That made him all the more beautiful in her mind.
Visitors and sightseers tried to make their way into the cave, to catch a glimpse and perhaps a comment from Illidan, but Maiev shooed them away, becoming more and more nasty to them each time around.
Am I becoming possessive? she wondered. True, she had begun to think of him as her prisoner, her Illidan, and hers alone.
One night while Maiev and Illidan were conversing over a rich roast and stew (she also kept him well-fed) in his cell, a dulcet voice called down into the chamber. “Illidan?”
He cut off in mid-sentence and lifted his head high in the direction of the voice. Maiev promptly Blinked out of the pen, preparing herself for another of her lectures she gave to interlopers. She had inhaled and made ready when a snow-white tiger poked its head into view, then continued striding into the chamber. A familiar figure sat upon the feline’s back, in a proud riding stance, her strong face held high.
Maiev abruptly cut off her speech. “Priestess Tyrande.” She gave a swift bow and straightened herself. “How might I help you, My Lady?”
Tyrande smiled down confidently at her. “I was just coming down to visit my beloved’s brother.” Her eyes traveled past Maiev to Illidan, who had moved as close as he could to her in his confines, his head bowed.
“Tyrande,” he said softly as she moved her tiger to him, leaving Maiev standing behind her, a scowl coming over her face. “I was wondering if you would ever grace me with your presence in this dark and miserable hell. I feel so much better now that I’ve heard your voice.” The lines underneath his blindfold were smooth and his face soft.
“I will not be staying long, Illidan, just enough to see that you are well under this woman’s care.” She didn’t even move to indicate Maiev’s presence, only kept her eyes fastened on his pale form. “I’m hoping that you are learning from your crime and will maybe even someday rejoin us above.” His face turned up toward her, glowing in her attention.
Maiev became aware of her nails biting holes into her hands.
“I am, dear Tyrande,” he replied, and reached for her hands with his own. “I will reform, even if only for you.”
She held his hands momentarily before breaking away. “I will be glad to see you again then.” She turned, nodding to an empty-faced Maiev, and led her tiger out the passage.
Maiev stood watching her leave, standing with her back towards Illidan’s cell, unmoving except for a slight tremble in her hands.
Illidan sank to his knees, his hands wrapped around the bars as he pressed his face against them. His eyes were closed beneath his blindfold, his brain full of thoughts of Tyrande, his one and only love, the love his brother had stolen from him so long ago. She believed in him. She believed he would mend his ways and apologize for his wrongdoings and return to the surface of Kalimdor. She was his shining light of hope in this despicable prison. And she had come personally, just to see him. He wanted to sigh and collapse happily to the floor of his cell.
His “eyes” suddenly snapped to a bright red flash falling from Maiev’s hand. He looked and saw her form, tense but shaking slightly. He remembered they had been eating before Tyrande visited.
“Still hungry?” he asked quietly.
Maiev was silent for a long moment. Suddenly she flashed around towards him, cape whirling, and her eyes glowing with anger. “I don’t want to hear another word out of you, Betrayer,” she spat, and Blinked out of sight.
Taken aback by the first real rage he had seen from her a very long time, Illidan stared at the now empty spot she had been standing in before returning to their abandoned meal. He glanced around, looking for some sign of his Watcher, and was startled by an anguished scream from an offshoot of the cavern.
Not understanding, he began slowly eating the remains of the food.
-----------------
Jealous.
Jealous, jealous, jealous.
Why did that display make her so damn resentful?
Maiev stood against the wall amidst the illusion of rocks in her small passageway to the surface, banging the back her head on the rock. Her face was contorted in a scowl, her thoughts troubled. She and Illidan had been getting along so well together...
Until she had shown up. Everyone knew Illidan was hot for Tyrande, even though she had chosen Furion over him. But he was still trying to charm her, still trying, though he would never have the chance...
But the way she looked at him, the affection in her eyes, the soothing tone of her voice, Illidan’s reaction...
Oh, she wanted to kill someone.
Next time, she thought bitterly, next time, no one is allowed in. Only Shan’do himself.
Furion had sent Watchers from her force for the purpose of relieving her of her shift for awhile, but she had sent them all back, denying that she needed any relief from her job. Illidan was hers; no one else was allowed to watch him. She wanted no visitors for him; she said this under the pretense that he should not have the privilege, but she knew, in truth, that she just wanted him all to herself.
She had no reason to come down here...
A screech of frustration escaped her lips.
This is my prison, and I will run it the way I choose!
Sure of herself, Maiev marched back down to the large cavern. She saw Illidan’s face following her with question written on it, but paid him no mind, not even sending so much as a glance his way. She continued up the main passage out, until she came across a pair of guards set by Furion and the Sentinels.
Looking down her nose at both the women, she snarled, “No more visitors, even Priestess Tyrande herself. Only Shan’do Stormrage is allowed to pass this point. Understood?”
The pair averted their eyes and together gave a shaky, “Yes, Mistress.”
“Good. You will have me to answer to personally if you fail in your duties.” She made sure both of them were aware of her anger and authority before returning to the prison.
Illidan was still in the same position. “Maiev...” he started.
“Not a word, fool!” she snarled loudly before marching up to the bars and staring at him through narrowed eyes. “You are my prisoner, and I expect that you’ll listen to me when I tell you to do things. Else I will make the remainder of your disgusting life a miserable hell.” She Blinked into her chamber.
A frown graced Illidan’s lips, moving as he chewed a piece of venison. Why was she suddenly so irritated? They had been having a decent conversation about human politics and though he had made a moderately rude comment in the middle of it, she had laughed and waved it off as nothing. They had been actually getting along, strangely enough, til about two minutes ago...
He shook his head. Women... There’s no explanation for them.
Finished with his end of the meal and not sure whether touching hers would be a smart idea or not, he retreated to the corner of his cell he usually slept in that was furnished with a large, soft cushion Maiev had recently given to him. He cradled the cushion in his arms and sighed, thinking of his heart, Tyrande, until he dozed off to sleep.
-----------------
Maiev stared into the eyeholes of her helmet, which was placed upon a stand next to her bed, not bothering the brush the short strands of disobedient hair from her face. Her mask was a symbol of her position, as most people saw it. She doubted anyone ever thought that it also reflected upon her personally too. She was hiding.
The anger had drained out of her face and been replaced with tire. That mask had hidden so many of her emotions over the centuries, her hate and anger, fear and embarrassment. Beneath her front, she had learned to also control her face and keep it stone-hard, emotionless.
She could never keep her eyes from revealing her true thoughts though.
Maiev could tell that Illidan knew she was pissed. Of course, he didn’t care; he was a man, and men generally didn’t give a second thought to such things. He would most likely try to ask her about it, but she doubted that an answer would really be necessary.
She rolled over onto her back and put her bare arms over closed eyes. Her rage at Tyrande had thrown her into a sweat, the heat caught inside her thick armor. The armor and cape had been taken off as soon as she was inside her chamber. And her helmet sat right in front of her, empty.
The intense rage she felt as Tyrande left and she had snapped at Illidan had prompted her further into her role as Warden but as soon as the armor came off, the doubts filled her head. I don’t want to put that wretched thing back on. I want a break.
She had been doing this same job for thousands of years; didn’t she deserve a break? Her anger had been kindled too many times in her life, and she was tired of being angry all the time. She was usually very proud of her unspoken position of “bitch” in the Watchers, but today... This whole incident...
This is so stupid. I am being stupid and foolish.
All this time with Illidan had made her realize that she had been missing the company of other people. People like her, with her sharp wit and sarcastic humor. She had already shoved all thoughts of sex out of her head, but the loneliness had hit her like a steam tank. She needed a friend.
She had subordinates and people who went with her on missions (as well as her prisoners), but they were not friends. The Watchers and some of her Sentinels troops were her companions, but only briefly and strictly on business purposes. She never discussed anything personal with any of them; she had no interest, nor did she think it was appropriate.
A sigh escaped her lips. When Shan’do said Illidan was dangerous, he probably never would’ve thought so in this way.
A deep snore crept lazily into her room. Maiev smiled. Illidan had been startled to find himself propped against a large cushion once upon awakening from sleep. She had been sitting near him, watching his chest rise and fall in a steady rhythm on the hard floor, and decided that he had been on good behavior enough to warrant him a reward. Thus, she had given him a huge pillow from her own possessions, and was satisfied to see him use it every time he slept.
She wasn’t sure whether he knew that she watched him, but he probably didn’t care about that either. After all, she was his Watcher. She was entitled to it.
He probably would’ve found it a bit creepy anyway.
She felt a heavy weight descend gently over her body and eyelids. She was so tired...
Incoherent mutterings from the outside made her eyes flutter. She shook her head and sat up, fending off sleep. She didn’t need to sleep much, and didn’t feel she needed to now. She wanted to watch him.
Maiev swung her feet to the edge of the bed and stood. She glanced over at the armor and pursed her lips. She didn’t feel like putting it back on.
After a slight pause, she continued walking out into the prison chamber. He was asleep after all; he wouldn’t see her. She snorted. He was blind anyways, what did she have to worry about? She could probably parade around naked and he wouldn’t know the difference. Still, she crept about with caution, stepping almost soundlessly on the stone.
She pressed her body against the cool bars of his cell, shivering at the contact. He was beautiful even as he slept, at his most vulnerable. She wanted to touch him but did not dare. Her hands raked through her short, slicked hair, pulling at the errant strands in front of her eyes. She was one of the very few night elf women who kept their hair cut short; the high ponytail on her helmet was merely for decoration, actually made from her own hair, which she cut long ago. Mask. Again protecting that identity of her younger years, which she wanted no one to know.
A short Blink into the cell brought her directly beside the sleeping demon hunter, his lips moving in silent phrases. She knelt beside him and, going against her better judgment, brushed his cheek lightly with her nails. His muttering ceased but he did not stir, save for a wistful sigh.
She continued gently brushing his face, a small smile on her lips and her eyes halfway closed happily. She started when his hand suddenly moved for hers and cupped it against his face. He smiled in his sleep.
Maiev could feel herself shaking slightly. She had never wanted to touch someone like this in her entire life. And now she was getting away with it. Illidan was prompting her, but he was still asleep.
Her duty forgotten for the moment, she leaned over and kissed his forehead gently. She wanted to cuddle with him, take a nap in his arms, but she did not want to wake him, for fear of ruining the moment. She almost laughed at herself for those thoughts, for how ridiculous she knew this was, but she couldn’t help herself. She kept her hand in his and gently stroked his silky hair, humming quietly in the warmest tone she could muster. She wanted this to last forever, and wasn’t exactly sure what would happen when he woke up.
For hours she sat beside him, as happy as she had ever been, more thrilled with this feeling than any the hunt had given her. She was Maiev the night elf now, not Maiev the Warden as she had been for so long, and she felt very, very good. It had been so long since she had done something for herself, and she felt an unfamiliar yet pleasing warm feeling inside her body. Eventually, she felt her eyes become heavy again, and began thinking that the prospect of lying beside him was not such a bad idea. She began to move closer to him as her upper body found an empty corner of the pillow.
Suddenly, Illidan rose, his nostrils flared and a startled look upon his face. His top lip curled into a snarl. “What are you doing here, what do you want?” he hissed.
Biting back a shocked curse, Maiev could think of nothing to do but stare at him, her mind blank. Her jaw worked as she tried to they of something to say, but nothing came out.
He grabbed her by the strap of her shirt. “Well, girl?” he demanded, his breath hot on her face. “How did you get past my Watcher and her guards? How did you get in he-“ A look of surprise crossed his face. He pushed her away, and turned his face.
He recognized the glow in her eyes and thick lips as those of his Warden. The short hair and the frame of her face were also recognizable but he did not want to think about it. “You.”
Maiev’s eyes widened as a spear of panic ran through her. Somehow he could tell it was she. “Illidan, I... How...”
“Don’t ask,” he said, feeling awkward at this moment. She was that girl...
She stared at him for a few seconds before realizing she wouldn’t get an answer. Could he see...?
“Maiev!” he spat, not moving.
She took the hint and vanished from the space.
Illidan turned, facing where Maiev had been only seconds ago. His head was full of mixed emotions - anger, resentment, confusion, and... He wanted to deny it, but, yes, there was also a bit of longing thrown in these too. He loved Tyrande but he had been without company for a very long time...
It was just the fact it was Maiev who had been next to him that really bothered him. And without all her dress.
Now that he had “seen” her face, he wished he had never woken up.
Skilled demon hunters had a modified way of seeing; it was almost like sonar, how bats “saw,” using sound waves. The only way it was different was that demon hunters used the flows of magic and spiritual presences to paint a very vivid picture of what went on around them. It was not the same as normal vision, but it worked better when there were strong magical presences around. That’s why demon hunters specialized in hunting undead and, of course, demons.
So he could make out faces and features. He had recognized Maiev’s face, mostly due to her short hair, as an “acquaintance” of his from many, many years ago. He must have met her before she had earned her position, before she had acquired that attitude and authority, because he remembered that face as always smiling. He remembered touching it with his strong hands and kissing it. He had teased the wench about her short hair and been given a few playfully exasperated slaps about his comments, which had later led to a long night.
He shook his head. He did not want to think about it. It made him feel as if he betrayed Tyrande, after she had put so much hope into him...
He slammed a fist into the stone wall, cracking the earth.
Did it really have to be Maiev??
He wasn’t sure he’d be able to even look at her now. He had enjoyed that night, so long ago... He grunted. There would be no long conversations after this. He didn’t want to think about the possibilities of what had happened while he slept, she had been so close to him, and touching him.
No wonder the whore comment struck her so hard.
Yet there was that nagging little twinge of desire in the back of his mind, something that wanted to just grab a hold of her and relive that night. Something that didn’t mind that she was there when he woke up.
He swatted at it, growling. It’s just another game of hers. Well, fine. I can play that game too. He just couldn’t tell with her. She was such a strange, erratic individual. He had never met anyone like her, and wasn’t sure how to deal with her, except to entertain her so she didn’t go crazy and deprive him of food and water or something of the sort.
He cradled his head in his hands.
-----------------
Well, he’s seen me, she sighed. I don’t have a clue as to how, but he knows who I am.
Was she worried? She wasn’t sure whether she was worried, or angry, or maybe a little hurt.
She froze. I left when he hinted at me to. That made her mad, even furious. She wasn’t sure why she has left so hastily, except that the tone of his voice was moderately frightening. She wasn’t afraid, just didn’t know what else to do.
She laughed at herself. I should’ve stayed there, just to see what he would’ve done. She swayed back and forth on her bed, humming for no reason. She was somewhat shaken, but it would be easy to calm.
She looked over at her armor. At least I don’t have to put that back on. Yet. She hoped no one came down the passage for a visit.
She tapped her fingers on her knees. Well, I certainly enjoyed that, so I really don’t care what he thinks. Even though he’ll probably be a bitter old grouch from now on. She shrugged. At least he had something to think on now.
Her hand found its way to her face, and she sucked on the tips of her fingers. Her eyes closed. He tasted good on her fingers, even though he had been locked down here for so long without bathing. Her lips still tasted like the salt on his forehead, no matter how many times she licked them. She thought she had blown her chance for any possibility of that whole “friend” thing with him, but that was okay. She could prey on him while he slept, stealing touches and things. She would miss the discussions (as she was sure he would probably never want to speak to her again), but as long as she could look at him, that was fine too.
She could not quite tell why, but Maiev was feeling her old, rather playful self at the moment. She wanted to play.
A sadistic grin crossed her face.
-----------------
Illidan didn’t even look up as he felt Maiev stride casually out of her apartment. He wasn’t sure what he would think if he saw that bare face again.
Maiev slowly knelt in front of the bars and wrapped her fingers around them gingerly, pressing her face into them. “Illidan,” she called softly.
He still refused to acknowledge her. She uncurled her fingers and purposefully slid them down the cold metal, calling to him again.
“I’ve no desire to talk to you, woman,” he snapped.
“Oh, come on, just for a little bit,” she pouted, pressing her upper body against the bars as well. “There’s no reason to not talk to me. At least do it now so I don’t have to force you into anything.” He looked up and she smiled at him. Her smile sent shivers down his spine for the first time.
He grumbled. “Since when do you need permission to annoy me, Warden? I thought that was your job.”
She disappeared suddenly, only to reappear in the same crouching position in his lap. He leaned away from her, startled at the abrupt pressure on his flesh. “You remember me, don’t you?” She said it almost as an accusation.
“Yes.” Her face was on level with his.
“Does it frighten you?”
He snorted. “Frighten me? Why in the Goddess’ name would it frighten me?”
A lacquered nail traced one of the swirls on his chest. “I want it again, demon hunter.”
Even though something stirred in his torso at the silky way she said that, he tried pushing her off of him. “I don’t want you, wench.”
She refused to budge, meeting even his power with an iron will to stay planted in his lap. “I think you’re lying.”
She was so close to his face that he could feel strands of her hair brushing his forehead. His hands remained on her shoulders, still trying to shove her away, but not with much effort or result. He had begun to take in the details of her half-naked body, her swaying breasts and the supple curves of her hips. He hadn’t seen her like this before; he had seen the girl, but not the Warden she was now, nor had he ever expected to. He tried to think of something to say, but the thoughts came slowly. He could not think why.
“No,” he said simply.
She laughed musically, something else he wouldn’t have expected from her. “You’re not pushing away anymore, Illidan, what’s happening? Are you giving in?”
Her comment and sly grin set him off. He turned his face away. “I’ll not play your game this time, if this is what you mean to play.” He said it quietly but strongly, hoping the words would ward her off.
She only laughed again, her face coming closer and closer until her nose touched his cheek. She slid her face forward and whispered into his ear, “Perhaps this time it’s not a game.”
She gave a startled but playful shriek as the hands on her shoulders suddenly hauled her all the way into his lap and wrapped around her. Her cry was cut off by a pair of lips coming for hers in a kiss that threatened to consume her face. Her hands found his face and cradled it as he pressed onto her heavily, almost violently. She went along with it and dug her nails into his cheeks.
Illidan grunted as her nails almost broke his skin, and bit at her bottom lip. He clamped down hard, but heard a moan escape her mouth and her nails slide down his neck, and let go, startled.
“Why are you stopping?” she said breathily, licking at the blood on her lip.
“Because I don’t dwell,” he said gruffly and finally succeeded in shoving her off his lap and standing.
Maiev stared up at him, a tendril a red making its way down her chin. “You refuse because of who I am now,” she growled.
His hands rubbed the sides of his face. “I forgot you liked the violent side.”
“Why can’t you just see me as a woman and not as a Warden!?” she screamed at him. “I want you, Illidan, and you’re too hard-headed to see it! Or just accept it and let me do as I please, I can assure you, you’ll enjoy it too!”
The words rang through his head, but he could not allow her to win. “I don’t dwell,” he said again. He dusted off his forearms as nonchalantly as he could manage. “I’m hungry, jailor.”
On her feet, she blew an angry scream at him and vanished.
He smiled inwardly. One point for him. It truly was back to the old games.
Chapter 1 -- Chapter 3