So...

This has, possibly, been one of the better-kept secrets of Suncrown Storylines. With Theradiel having reached 30 days of inactivity I've decided to share the myriad of fics I had written about Agho'Linn and Theradiel in preparation for the day when their outrageous secret was discovered in-game.

The later, shorter fics were PMz that I sent to Lindarcia (Theradiel's Player) as a way of keeping her updated to recent events that Theradiel would have knowledge of through Agho'Linn. The last fic is my way of explaining where Theradiel is at the moment, as I'm using him as something of an NPC for the time being.

Please bear in mind that even though you all now know this information OOC, that your characters do not know this IC.

Enjoy.

The sun shone through the thin slits between the blinds covering the windows of her room, and Agho’Linn groaned in response to the daily signal that she should rise and start moving. Last night had been a late one, and in keeping her eyes shut just a little while longer, Agho’Linn could continue the fantasy that she had not destroyed her room in a child-like fit of anger. The sun still peeked at her through the windows. Giving in to the inevitable with a heavy sigh and second groan, Agho’Linn rose from her bed and strode to the nearest window purposefully.

Opening the blinds, Agho’Linn allowed the sun to shine on her face for a moment before turning around to view the exact effect of her wrath the night before. Wincing and grimacing, Agho’Linn surveyed many of her more expensive gowns strewn across the floor, having been torn from the closet and cast aside in a whip-like fashion. Carefully picking each one up, shaking it out, and putting it away, Agho’Linn was happy to note that she had not actually broken anything in her fit last night, which was surprising given her fury at the time.

Frowning to herself as she washed her face and hands, Agho’Linn’s thoughts turned to Lord Colban Fargatherer, and how she sincerely wished she could ball up her first and punch him as a man could. Despite everything she had done, everything she had said, and the complete lack of anything Evalani did, he still chose the young beauty over her. It was unthinkable to Agho’Linn that such a thing would happen, and yet she stood in front of her mirror looking at Agho’Linn the Widowed, not Agho’Linn the Freshly Betrothed.

Sighing and looking at her work-robe with a certain amount of trepidation, Agho’Linn carefully slipped the dusty garment over her head, and began to accessorize with her belt, wraps, britches, gloves, and boots. On her way out of the door to her apartment, she snatched her staff and coronet, strapping the staff to her back and settling the coronet on her head. These had become practiced motions; Agho’Linn thought with a grimace as she shut and locked the door behind her, perhaps if she had caught Lord Colban she’d not be moving through this routine any longer.

Striding out of the apartments and down the stairs, Agho’Linn waved a greeting and farewell to the Innkeeper, and exited towards the Royal Exchange. She would browse the Auction House for a moment or two, as she did every day, and then head off for the horrible dust bowl infested by Orcs, Trolls, and Tauren, which was so appropriately called The Barrens. Her thoughts of the dreadful place reminded Agho’Linn of something previously forgotten, and she looked down at her feet.

Staring back up at her was the small brown prairie dog that had chosen to attach itself to Agho’Linn as she traveled the Barrens. With a frown, Agho’Linn tried to shoo the silly thing away again for about the billionth time, and sighed as it stared back at her, uncomprehending. Deciding that the little creature was unlikely to ever leave, Agho’Linn scooped up the rodent and paced towards the fountain in the Royal Exchange.

Agho’Linn dunked the little prairie dog in the water there, until it was sufficiently soaked. Deciding that his dunk in the fountain would have to suffice for a bath until later, Agho’Linn wrapped the creature in a cloth from her bag, and began to rub it dry. Smiling thinly at the rodent, Agho’Linn decided that his name would be Reepicheep, and she set him back down on the ground before continuing out of the city.

She headed towards Farstrider Square, which she would pass through on her way to the Court of the Sun and then the Orb of Translocation. Nearly at the juncture between the exchange and the square, Agho’Linn felt a set of eyes on her from behind. She stopped, and looked at Reepicheep, who was busying himself with shaking out the last bit of wet from his bath. Turning around fully, Agho’Linn thought she saw a figure dart behind a bush, but she couldn’t be sure, and so she shrugged and kept on her way.

Hearing footsteps behind her, Agho’Linn’s heart began to quicken and her mind raced wondering who in the world would be following her around Silvermoon. At first, she thought that she would simply keep walking and pay no mind to this strange occurrence, but something made her turn around and face who it was that was behind her. Stopping and turning slowly, Agho’Linn heard the footsteps behind her end as well, and she found herself looking at a man, who was smiling roguishly, an impish looking wolf at his side.

He was blond, and had long hair that while brushed, certainly looked as if it had not been paid attention to for some time. Staring at his face, Agho’Linn could have sworn she had seen him somewhere before. He did not seem to want to break his concentration as his eyes traversed her figure, and so Agho’Linn began the obligatory conversation that she felt needed to happen.

“I am sorry, is there something that I can help you with?” Agho’Linn asked as politely as possible, despite the stranger’s overt rudeness.

Seeming to come out of a reverie, the unknown man responded with a short, “No, nothing, just enjoying the scenery.”

Agho’Linn couldn’t help but smile; she had never been complimented in such a crass and common way before, and she surprised herself by finding that she liked it. In a single, crude statement, Agho’Linn found a compliment more refreshing than a thousand sonnets another could have sung to her. Intrigued, Agho’Linn remained in place, shifting her weight to her left hip from her right and folded her arms in front of her.

“Oh? Find something particularly interesting,” Agho’Linn countered through smiling lips.

“I think so,” the blond man returned quickly, “And I am hoping it has a name.”

“If you mean to say that I am the interesting piece of scenery that has stopped you in your tracks, then my name is Agho’Linn, Agho’Linn Nerel’Thos,” Agho’Linn laughed, dropping a neat curtsey as she spoke out of habit.

Her admirer seemed startled for a moment before recovering.

“Nerel’Thos, you say? I should have guessed from the hair,” he replied with a widening grin, and he resumed his perusal of Agho’Linn’s more attractive features.

Agho’Linn stared back at the blond man, and waited for him to introduce himself, which he did not. Clearing her throat delicately, Agho’Linn tried to prompt him, and failed. She was just about to turn around and leave when the man started to speak again.

“I think this is the point in conversation where manners dictate that I introduce myself,” and he grinned wickedly, “Except that I do not have any manners.”

Agho’Linn smiled and laughed despite herself, “Let us pretend that you do for the moment, and give me your name.”

Clearing his throat and making a surprisingly smooth bow, the stranger introduced himself, “I am Theradiel Andilien.”

It was Agho’Linn’s turn to startle, and she blinked in comprehension. She had met Aigun and Ulian Andilien at the ball a few weeks previous, and the family resemblance definitely stood out. This Theradiel’s blond hair was just the same shade as Aigun’s, but for the life of her, Agho’Linn could not divine the exact familial relationship between the two.

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Master Andilien,” Agho’Linn chimed in response, her formalities taking over automatically, regardless of the very informal setting in which this introduction was taking place. Looking down at her robe, Agho’Linn smoothed it as best she could and straightened herself. Her eyes glancing to the side, she caught sight of Reepicheep trying to hide in her skirts, and remembered Theradiel’s wolf-friend.

“Ah, the wolf won’t eat my prairie dog, will he?” Agho’Linn asked, surprised at her own concern.

“Marduk? No. The lazy brute doesn’t like to catch his meals,” Theradiel responded with a companionable slap to Marduk’s shoulder.

Eyeing Marduk carefully, Agho’Linn slowly continued, “He’s tame, then?”

“Complet…”, and Theradiel’s response was cut short by Marduk trying to leap up on Agho’Linn’s shoulders. Agho’Linn squealed in surprise, and Reepicheep chattered in agitation as Theradiel grabbed the beast by the scruff of the neck and scolded him sharply.

“Ah… Completely. Sorry ‘bout that, I dunno what came over him!” Theradiel apologized with some color rising to his cheeks.

Laughing off her nervousness at Marduk’s outburst, “It is of no moment, Master Andilien, I seem to have gained something of a magneticism for animals recently. This little fellow,” and Agho’Linn motioned to Reepicheep, “followed me home from The Barrens.”

Theradiel quickly lost his embarrassed coloring and resumed his roguish grin, “I would certainly have to agree with Mistress on that count,” Theradiel replied with a wink.

“I didn’t think you would disagree,” Agho’Linn countered as she smoothed the skirts of her gown again, paying particular attention to her hips in the motion.

Marduk repeated his previous performance, but with more gusto this time. Agho’Linn stood her ground, gazing challengingly at Theradiel, who was busy trying to keep his wolf from mauling the fiery-haired beauty. A certain part of Agho’Linn, the innermost working of her mind, was laughing with delight at being scandalized in such a way and acting so scandalous in return.

Finally calming Marduk, Theradiel raised an eyebrow at Agho’Linn, “You certainly have him worked up about something.”

Agho’Linn affected a look of innocence, and hearing the chime of the bells in Silvermoon, winced. She was late, and now she would be spending most of her errands in the heavy-heat of the day.

“I am sorry for it, Master Andilien, and I am sorry to say that I should be leaving. Thank you, so much, for this first introduction,” and Agho’Linn politely folded her hands in front of her.

“First introduction? What in the fel are you talking about?” Theradiel asked in a particularly crass manner.

“First introduction; when a gentleman makes himself known to a lady. Second introductions usually involve dinner and more formal clothing,” Agho’Linn teased, offering bait and waiting to see if he would take it.

“Friday night, then, at eight bells in Silvermoon,” Theradiel returned flatly, with a serious expression on his face.

Surprised by his sudden serious tone, Agho’Linn could do little but nod her agreement. Making a neat curtsey as she turned to leave, Agho’Linn was glad that Theradiel couldn’t see her foolish grin, or the blush coming fast to her cheeks. It wouldn’t do to have him know how much he had piqued her interest.

She had seen him on several occasions since First Introductions. They always met in places where others surrounded them, and he always seemed more proper than his wry grin would suggest. He had sent her a bouquet of flowers after she thought to have some mutton sent to him for Marduk. The other night, he had presented her with a small white kitten. The gifts and flattering words were in line with what Agho’Linn expected of a gentleman courting a lady, but the way he eyed her and the way he grinned at her suggested he was looking for a simpler, less complicated arrangement.

Agho’Linn Nerel’Thos, queen of etiquette, was thoroughly confused as to Theradiel Andilien’s intentions towards her.

It wasn’t as if Theradiel was the prince that Agho’Linn was aiming to marry, or the lord that a lady of Nerel’Thos deserved to marry. He was a third cousin to the direct Andilien line, a line barely recognized by Silvermoon’s elite before the siege. Theradiel was not a man of enough station for Agho’Linn to even deign to allow looking at her, under ordinary circumstances. Yet, there was something so utterly raw about him, something she was attracted to instantly, and something that caused her to forgive all of his crass and forward nature.

It was Friday afternoon already, time steadily marched towards her “Second Introduction” with Theradiel, and Agho’Linn was still completely lost as to how to progress. Considering her options, Agho’Linn purposefully snatched her guildstone from her bureau’s top, and etched out the specific rune that would allow her to speak with Fiamma. There was no other that she could speak to, as she dared not bother Cyndesta with such a trivial matter. Besides, Fiamma seemed to travel with Aigun often, and perhaps she would have some insight as to Theradiel’s actions.

“Fiamma, ah, good cousin? Do you have a moment to chat with me?” Agho’Linn asked meekly into the stone, unused to using such a device for communication.

“Linn? Is that you? For you I have days to chat!” Fiamma responded with her usual cheery, if direct, tone. On her side of the guildstone, Agho’Linn smiled at the use of her nickname. It had been ages since another had referred to her as such.

“Lovely!” Agho’Linn exclaimed before continuing, “I don’t mean to be a bother, Fiamma, but I have to admit that I am terribly lost as to courtship ritual in the day we live in. Have things changed terribly? It has been some time…”

“Courtship? Is someone showing interest?” Fiamma broke in, moving directly to the meat of the topic.

“I believe that it is interest,” Agho’Linn replied, sounding unsure, “But that is why I am asking. I don’t want to make a fool of myself by misinterpreting.”

“Mmm, yes,” Fiamma returned, obviously in thought, “Who is it that has shown such an interest in my cousin to have confused her?”

Agho’Linn stared at her guildstone, blinking in confusion. There was no reason not to tell Fiamma whom it was that she would be seeing tonight. But, there was something warning Agho’Linn against it. Shrugging off doubt, Agho’Linn replied, “Theradiel Andilien.”

There was a daunting silence on the other end of the guildstone before Fiamma’s ringing tones came back over the device, “What?!”

Wincing, Agho’Linn scowled at the air around her. Mumbling, Agho’Linn chided herself, “Err on the side of caution, fool!”

Fiamma did not wait for Agho’Linn to explain before going on.

“I am loathe to give you horrible news, Linn, but I would also be loathe to see you hurt! Theradiel is not for you, he is… well… he has a roving eye,” she tried to explain to Agho’Linn.

“He has been kind to me thus far, Fiamma,” Agho’Linn argued, inwardly surprised that she was defensive about the topic, “he gifted me a kitten just the other night!”

“A kitten,” Fiamma asked, clearly surprised, “Theradiel Andilien bought you a kitten?”

“And had flowers sent to me,” Agho’Linn was quick to add.

“A kitten and flowers? That is not the Theradiel that I remember, perhaps I have misspoken,” Fiamma intoned, still sounding confused.

Agho’Linn found herself smiling and beaming, and tried not to squeal aloud. Her head was a whirl of emotions; she was excited, as it seemed that Theradiel’s intentions were genuine, but she was upset as she knew that a man with a roving eye very rarely changed his ways. Most of all, she was confused that she was excited and upset in the first place. An Andilien was hardly the type of man Agho’Linn should be excited, upset, and confused about.

“You will keep what I have said in mind, though,” Fiamma demanded through the guildstone, “I’ll not have that scoundrel make you cry!”

Coming out of her reverie, Agho’Linn replied, “Oh yes, I will remember and I will be careful. Thank you, Fiamma; you have helped me greatly in this. Please be well until I see you again.”

“Yes, of course, Linn. We should do this more often, perhaps in person next time. Go well, dear cousin,” Fiamma returned in farewell.

Shutting off her guildstone as quickly as she could fumble with the bizarre thing, Agho’Linn tossed it into her bag and left her room as quickly as possible. There were errands to be done before tonight, and she had just decided that she needed to look perfect. Above all, she needed a new dress.

Making her way to the bazaar, Agho’Linn spotted a familiar looking blond-haired girl. The girl was striding towards her purposefully, and made a neat curtsey to Agho’Linn as she approached. Agho’Linn curtsied in return, still wondering whom the girl was.

“Lady Greenbriar, so good to see you again, safe and well” the blond elf opened with.

Agho’Linn felt thunderstruck for a moment. Why today, of all days, did someone need to remind her of everything she had lost, and all that she was trying to regain? Why today, when she was set to meet a man that would not regain those things for her, but leave her just as simple as she was now?

“Nerel’Thos, if you please, the name Greenbriar left me with the siege,” Agho’Linn replied, trying to keep the ice from her voice. The girl was not old enough to know just how hurtful she was being.

“Oh yes, Mistress Nerel’Thos, I am sorry. My mentor, Cyndesta, told me. I should have remembered,” the girl fretted in return, and Agho’Linn placed the face that seemed so familiar.

The blond haired girl in front of her was Aelfwyn, Cyndesta’s newest apprentice. Smiling wryly, Agho’Linn decided to forgive Aelfwyn her transgressions, as Cyndesta’s training was likely to exact whatever vengeance Agho’Linn would have dreamed of, anyway. Perhaps even more.

“Today is a lovely day, it must be lovely for your son or daughter! I never did hear what it was you did bear,” Aelfwyn carried on nervously, obviously trying to be companionable.

Agho’Linn choked back a sob, and tried her best not to lift her hand to slap Aelfwyn’s mouth. To mention Greenbriar was one thing, but her miscarried child was another entirely. Hanging on to the thought that Aelfwyn was not being cruel, that she was merely trying to make conversation, Agho’Linn regained control of herself.

“My son was also lost to me during the siege,” Agho’Linn replied shortly, and folded her hands in front of her.

Aelfwyn paled quickly and muttered several apologies before finally curtseying and taking her leave. Agho’Linn quickly found her way to a secluded spot of the city and began to cry and sob. Why today, of all days?!

Agho’Linn sat across the dinner table from Theradiel, trying her best to keep from fidgeting. She had plenty of questions to ask him, and his answers to those questions would determine whether or not she would spend any more time in his general presence. Her questions, however, couldn’t exactly be termed as polite and were not generally appropriate at this juncture.

Aelfwyn’s unkind, though inadvertent, words had lingered in Agho’Linn’s mind throughout the afternoon. It had, in fact, been a miracle that she had been able to put herself back together in time enough to meet Theradiel in the Royal Exchange. Until seven and one-half bells, Agho’Linn had been little more than a sobbing lump of a woman.

But, between fits of tears, Agho’Linn had been able to make some decisions as to how to proceed. Fiamma’s words warned her that she might just be another woman to Theradiel, and Aelfwyn’s words reminded Agho’Linn that she did not have time to waste in this courtship business. By the end of this second introduction, Agho’Linn would have to divine Theradiel’s precise intentions towards her, or she would have to let him walk away and not accept another invitation to dinner with him.

In line with her decision, Agho’Linn now bored her eyes into Theradiel’s, trying to use his eyes as windows to his soul, hoping to read his mind. It wasn’t working, and judging by the growing grin on Theradiel’s face, Agho’Linn knew that he thought her gaze to be one of sheer adoration for him. Annoyed, Agho’Linn snatched her wineglass from the table and uttered a curse into the rim of her glass.

“I heard that!” Theradiel exclaimed from his seat, his face astonished.

“Heard what?” Agho’Linn countered, trying to feign innocence despite the blush rising fast to her cheeks.

“I heard you swear! Goodness! I never expected a lady of class to know such words!” he teased, a broad grin forming.

“You should do some research then, and I think that you would find that most ladies of class can swear quite creatively when the mood strikes,” Agho’Linn returned with a sniff, trying her best to play down her indiscretion.

“Research? Why would I want to research ladies of class?” Theradiel questioned, his tone confused.

“To find things out about them,” Agho’Linn teased, setting down her glass of wine, “Much as I was able to find things out about you.”

“Oh, really now?” Theradiel asked, his eyebrow rising in interest.

“Mmm, yes. My cousin tells me that you are quite the hunter, and that the game you chase is rather varied,” Agho’Linn stated flatly while running her finger in circles around the rim of her wine glass.

“Your cousin? Fiamma?” Theradiel asked with a gulp. Agho’Linn merely nodded in confirmation, still playing with her wine glass as she held his gaze. Theradiel shifted in his seat before bringing a hand up to scratch the back of his neck.

“Ah, good of Fiamma to talk to you about me,” Theradiel began carefully, “But she seems to have put me at a disadvantage, as I didn’t think to research you. Perhaps I should take some time to do that right now.”

Agho’Linn blanched, even as she picked up her wine glass and began to swirl the crimson liquid inside of it. Perhaps, if she were to tell him everything, she would be able to tell exactly how genuine this stalwart hunter was. After hearing her saga, he would run, if insincere, and that would be that.

“I will tell you what you need to know,” Agho’Linn began with a wry smile, “In the time before the siege I was Lady Agho’Linn Nerel’Thos Greenbriar, one of Silvermoon’s elite. The siege robbed me of my husband, and the vultures that are the surviving nobility of Silvermoon made sure that I was given none of my due as a widow. I was lucky enough to be able to find Cyndesta and she, being the doll she is, had me tucked under Rellen’Thas’ wing in moments.

“And, now I sit across the dinner table from a certain stalwart huntsman, wondering if he’ll continue his hunt, or if he’ll find other game to chase,” she finished with a sip of her wine.

Theradiel rocked back in his chair a moment and whistled low, before springing out of his chair and quickly pacing his way to the chair next to Agho’Linn. He sat in the chair he had moved to and took up one of Agho’Linn’s hands in a formal fashion, kissing it. Sure that this was his farewell to her, Agho’Linn quickly schooled her expression so that she would not show any disappointment.

“The game I hunt now is, by far, the best prize I’ve chased in my life. She interests me with the way she moves and the way she tosses her hair. I’ll not chase another while I pursue her, and only end my chase if she disappears from my sight,” Theradiel explained in as poetic of terms that he could muster.

Agho’Linn’s heart lifted, and a bright smile spread across her face, “Well then, my Stalwart Huntsman, I think that I will remain within your sights, but just out of reach.”

It had been a whirlwind since the night of their Second Introduction. Agho’Linn had been honest with him, told him all of her past, and in exchange he was open in sharing his past transgressions. It was easy for Agho’Linn to confide in Theradiel. There was something about his easy nature that allowed her to be completely at ease with him in ways she had never been with another.

There had been ups and downs between them, of course, and more than once Theradiel had weathered the storm of Agho’Linn’s fury. Similarly, Agho’Linn had overcome Theradiel’s complete indifference to most things once or twice. Despite everything in the unlikely pair’s past and present, Agho’Linn Nerel’Thos and Theradiel Andilien were fiercely devoted to the other.

The suddenness of Fiamma’s suitor had caused a hiccup in Agho’Linn and Theradiel’s plan for a leisurely courtship while both waited for Cyndesta to turn a kinder eye towards Theradiel. As Lord Whiteflower pushed his suit on Fiamma, Agho’Linn worried that Cyndesta had plans for all of her marriageable cousins, and sought ways to make herself as unmarriageable as possible. Agho’Linn quickly saw that all of her herb store and her recipe book disappeared, leaving her with no cure for her infertility, absolutely barren, and therefore worthless in the eyes of all possible suitors.

Still, Theradiel and Agho’Linn decided not to leave anything to chance, and began to make rushed plans for their wedding. They had promised each other Thunder Bluff for the occasion, a place with clear skies and green grass. Agho’Linn had found a Tauren Shaman to officiate the marriage, and had even managed to persuade the she-Tauren away from certain Tauren traditions… such as both bride and groom presenting themselves in the nude.

Now, Agho’Linn stood with Theradiel on Spirit Rise, with Oneida, their officiant. Agho’Linn had chosen to wear red, as was allowed to a widow. To wear white seemed wrong to her. It was a simple, linen dress, and matched Theradiel’s simple black pants and white shirt in its informality.

“You come before me as two souls that wish to become one. Do you each come to this place of your own free will without coercion?” Oneida intoned, beginning the ceremony.

Agho’Linn smiled and nodded with a barely audible, “Yes,” in answer.

Theradiel nodded, his expression as serious as Agho’Linn had ever seen it before.

“I shall bind you in the traditions of my people, and thus I bind you in the eyes of the Earth Mother. Theradiel, do you have a cloth with which to bind yourself to Agho’Linn?” Oneida asked of the nervous groom in front of her.

Fumbling a bit, Theradiel provided a piece of black cloth with golden trim, and Agho’Linn’s eyes welled to see it. He had taken a piece of his Andilien Tabard for their binding. Aigun was sure to make a fuss if he ever found out.

“Agho’Linn, do you have a cloth to add to the binding?” Oneida asked of the bride as she joined Theradiel and Agho’Linn’s hands and wrapped the black cloth around the joined hands in an intricate twist.

Agho’Linn handed Oneida a handkerchief with a bashful smile. The handkerchief was needle-worked in one corner, and judging by the spots of blood throughout the design, Theradiel could tell that the craftsman was an amateur. Judging by the blush rising to Agho’Linn’s cheeks, he surmised that the work was her own and decided not to comment on it as Oneida added the handkerchief to the binding.

“Agho’Linn, follow me in speaking the sacred vows of marriage to Theradiel…” the she-Tauren continued, her tone melodious, as if the words she was speaking were a song.

“Theradiel, I freely pledge myself to you. I pledge to you the first bite from my meat and the first drink from my cup. I pledge to you my living and my dying, each equally in your care. I shall be a shield for you. I shall honor you above all others. I pledge to you that yours will be the name I cry aloud in the night, and yours will be the eyes into which I smile in the morning. This is my wedding vow to you,” Oneida said aloud and Agho’Linn followed each phrase in turn.

The last vow in the paragraph was terribly amusing to Agho’Linn and she grinned wickedly at Theradiel as the words flowed from her lips. He first seemed surprised and then returned the grin in his usual roguish manner, a slight blush coming to his cheek. Agho’Linn squeezed Theradiel’s hand lightly in a silent assurance that she had meant every word she had spoken.

“Theradiel, follow me in speaking the scared vows of marriage to Agho’Linn…” Oneida said as she turned to Theradiel, unaware of the silent exchange between the pair.

“Agho’Linn, I freely pledge myself to you. I pledge to you the first bite from my meat and the first drink from my cup. I pledge to you my living and my dying, each equally in your care. I shall be a shield for you. I shall honor you above all others. I pledge to you that yours will be the name I cry aloud in the night, and yours will be the eyes into which I smile in the morning. This is my wedding vow to you,” Theradiel repeated the words carefully, making sure not to miss one along the way.

Oneida then placed her large, Tauren hands around the Agho’Linn and Theradiel’s clasped hands, and closed her eyes in a blessing, “This cloth is a symbol of your binding, treasure it and keep it sacred. Use it to wipe your tears in times of joy and in times of sorrow, as both are encountered in marriage.”

Untying the binding, Oneida gave Agho’Linn the piece of the Andilien tabard Theradiel had given, and handed Theradiel the handkerchief Agho’Linn had obviously labored over. Agho’Linn took the black cloth and immediately tucked it into her bodice, just above her heart, in a winking challenge. Theradiel brought the handkerchief to his lips before tucking it into his belt, accepting the challenge with a grin.

“Leave this place joined as one soul, filled with love. Let no other question your binding to each other, for the Earth Mother has witnessed this union and has made it lasting,” Oneida intoned in a parting fashion, leaving Theradiel and Agho’Linn to their first kiss as husband and wife.

Theradiel smiled as he heard the measured running step of Spirit, Agho’Linn’s sweet –if flighty- Hawkstrider. That unmistakable sound coming down the path to their small cottage home meant that his wife had returned from her day’s activities. Having known that the last few weeks had been trying and troublesome for her, Theradiel was careful to make sure that his typical bachelor’s mess was cleared from the cottage’s sitting area and that there were flesh flowers on the kitchen table.

The door to the cottage creaked open, and Agho’Linn entered the sitting room of the house. She was wearing clothes that he knew she fondly referred to as her “fishing outfit”, a pair of brown boots, black pants, a stylish red shirt, and a russet colored hat that she purported to keep the sun from her eyes, and her hair safe from the wind. Theradiel had seen the way that she looked at herself in the mirror with the hat on, however, and while he appreciated the apparent functionality of it, he knew that Agho’Linn’s fondness for it was mostly aesthetic.

As his eyes wandered across his wife’s form, Theradiel’s gaze landed on Agho’Linn’s face, which was distraught and tear streaked. Sobbing, she flew across the space between them, and threw herself into his arms.

“He is just so stupid… he won’t leave me be! I can’t stand it anymore! I’ve tried everything,” Agho’Linn choked out between sobs.

Theradiel tensed as he realized that Agho’Linn was, once again, referring to Zalindrian’s overt interest in her, and her various attempts to dissuade him of the notion. Sitting Agho’Linn down, Theradiel waited for her to calm down and elaborate on the topic. Taking some time to collect herself, Agho’Linn continued to explain.

Words came tumbling at record speed as Agho’Linn explained that she had been fishing and Zalindrian came to join her. She had thought to use the time to cement his direction towards Jarida, but rather she found herself traipsing through the Ghostlands helping this or that friend of his. Later, Akiba and some others of the house gathered at the Silvermoon Inn and she had excused herself from Zalindrian to go and visit with some of those that she had not seen recently.

Though out of character for her, she had decided to experiment with bourbon and drank what was apparently too much. Regardless, Zalindrian had showed at the impromptu gathering and began teasing her about the way that she folded her hands and stomped her foot on occasion, like a schoolboy would tease his playground crush. Frustrated, she had left the gathering early and came immediately home, crying most of the way.

“I just don’t understand how to make him stop! I am trying to be friendly! I am Andilien now, and Andilien have been allied with Dawncaller for so long… but he keeps confusing the issue,” Agho’Linn finished, exasperated.

The door to their cottage just outside of Falconwing Square swung open, and Agho’Linn floated her way inside. Theradiel grinned as he watched her enter, his wife’s trick of levitation never failing to amuse him. It was a talent that was particularly endearing, given that she often employed it while extremely happy or pleased with herself.

Agho’Linn continued her entrance, a dreamy smile on her face, and as she drew nearer to Theradiel, he could begin to hear her humming a dancing tune. She closed in on him quickly, and all too soon it was too late for Theradiel to attempt escape. With resistance impossible, Theradiel succumbed to Agho’Linn’s sweeping him up off of his comfortable chair and into the rocking, measured pace of the waltz she was humming.

“Good evening, dear, have a good day?” Theradiel asked after a moment into the swaying dance.

Agho’Linn nodded, her smile still dreamy as she paced through the dance.

“Zalindrian and Jarida are sealed. He’s asked permission of Velurian to speak with Cyndesta and begin formal arrangements,” Agho’Linn breathed with a sigh, “She’ll not deny him, it is too promising of a match.”

Finishing the dance with the flourishing courtesy she saved for dancing, Agho’Linn raised her eyes to meet Theradiel’s. Stepping close enough to him to kiss him lightly on the lips and being playing with his errant locks of hair, she continued with a grin, “I will have to begin readying myself for the whirlwind of wedding preparation. Not all weddings can be as simply done as ours.”

It was past ten bells in FalconWing Square when Agho’Linn finally crept home. Theradiel had long since been in bed, accustomed to rising with the sun, but years of sleeping in the wood allowed him to dose, ready to rise at the first sound out of place. The tell-tale squeak of their front door notified him that his wife was finally home. The constant stream of sniffles and sighs notified him that it had not been a good evening.

Before he could rise, Agho’Linn had made her way to their bedroom, slipped out of her robe and into her nightgown, and slid into bed beside her husband. She immediately curled into a ball, holding him to her, and began to softly sob. Her sobs became more wracking as time passed, and Theradiel murmured all the words and phrases he thought would help as he stroked her tresses.

He had seen her enraged, seen her worried to the point of being physically ill, he had even seen her saddened, but nothing was quite like the despair she seemed to display tonight.

Finally seeming to gain some control of herself, Agho’Linn wiped at her face and seemed to relax in Theradiel’s arms.

“Catalia lost her baby,” she muttered quickly, her voice thick with recent and threatening tears.

“I didn’t know she had one on the way,” Theradiel responded, surprised.

“Yes, she wasn’t that far along, not many knew. She didn’t really know herself,” Agho’Linn babbled, “I had only just figured out the other day.”

Quickly surmising the reason for his wife’s distress, Theradiel tightened his arms around her, unable to say anything even remotely helpful.

“I can imagine it was difficult for you to see another go through what you had to endure,” the stalwart huntsman stumbled into responding

“I was with her through the whole thing,” Agho’Linn replied in a hushed whisper, “It was terrible. There was nothing I could do to help her, nothing I could do to stop it, nothing at all.”

She sobbed again, and new tears began flowing as she buried her face into her husband’s chest. He kept up his routine of soothing murmurs, kissing away tears, and stroking her hair until Agho’Linn stopped shuddering and had fallen into sleep. Outside, he could hear the bells in the square chiming, announcing that it was now the next day. Theradiel sighed and lulled himself into sleep as he listened to his wife’s quiet breathing, he wouldn’t be rising with the sun tomorrow.

Agho’Linn stepped through the door to the cottage she shared with her husband still thunderstruck. She had told him that Ulian was missing and that she was worried, but he had shushed her, saying that Andiliens were a hardy lot and that Ulian was fine. But now, the entire Andilien Estate had been ransacked, and Aigun was nowhere to be found, either.

“Welcome home, my love,” Theradiel’s voice rumbled from the kitchen. It was a blessing her husband knew how to cook. Never having had to prepare a meal for herself, Agho’Linn had desperately sought to learn to cook in order to become the wife Theradiel might expect. The end result of her training was that Agho’Linn could cook if necessary, but it was not a desirable thing, over all.

“The Estate, Theradiel! The place is a wreck and Aigun is confirmed as missing!” Agho’Linn exclaimed, skipping over greetings and the usual kisses and embraces they shared at the end of the day.

Theradiel turned to his wife and frowned. In slow, measured motions he rinsed and dried his hands, setting the meat he was preparing on the stovetop to simmer in a pot. Finally, he came to Agho’Linn and put his hands on her waist, kissing her on the forehead.

“Don’t let the meat singe, darling, only let it cook for a half an hour. It, and the vegetables, will be done after that,” he instructed her, even as she scowled up at him for his patronizing tone, “I don’t know when I will be home tonight, if tonight. Don’t try and keep dinner warm for me, Linn, you’ll only burn it.”

Agho’Linn scoffed at Theradiel as he strapped on his gear and exited the cottage, whistling for Marduk. So distracted by his thinly veiled insults to her ability to cook, it was minutes before Agho’Linn realized that Theradiel had managed to leave her behind on his hunt for Ulian. Enraged, Agho’Linn raced back to the front door and threw it open, looking around wildly for her erstwhile husband.

Seeing nothing, Agho’Linn let out a gusty, frustrated sigh and walked back into the cottage, closing the door behind her. Flopping into one of the chairs in the sitting room, Agho’Linn cursed her husband. She knew she would never be able to track him once he reached the deep wood, and so her only option was to remain at home… waiting… and watching dinner.

One of the puppies Marduk had presented Agho’Linn and Theradiel with hopped up into Agho’Linn’s lap, and in the silence of the house and the wood surrounding it she could hear the others scampering about. Smiling despite herself, Agho’Linn played with the puppy and laughed softly as she remembered Theradiel’s astonishment when Marduk had sheepishly brought home his mate and a litter of pups. The puppies were nearly ready to be separated from their mother, and she would need to find homes for them all.

She allowed herself to be distracted by the pup. It would keep her from worrying and wondering. It would keep her busy for a time.

Even as Lord Blackswan turned on his heel and walked away from Agho’Linn, she made a gesture with her hand that summoned her guards to her side. Just after they had been married, Theradiel had taught Agho’Linn a number of different hand signals used for training animals, and she made sure that each guard assigned to her understood the signals for “stay”, “come”, and “help”. In this way, she didn’t really have to talk to them, and could pretend that they weren’t there. In this way, she didn’t have to feel as though she was living in a moving prison.

Her guards obediently flanked her, and she let out a whistle, calling her cobalt talbuk, Arlen, to her side. Mounting up quickly, it was moments before Agho’Linn was tearing through Silvermoon, the guards tailing behind. She headed towards the Rellen’thas Manor, and once inside the gates she dismounted in a flurry of skirts, allowing Arlen to find his own way to the stables before storming through the manor to her chambers.

Slamming the door to her chambers behind her for dramatic effect, Agho’Linn paused a moment to listen for the sound of her guards settling themselves into their posts at her door.

“What do you suppose got into her?” the younger guard asked of the older.

“I don’t have an idea, boy, but I’ll wager a week’s pay that she’ll come out of that room like nothing ever happened when she’s good and ready to,” the older guard responded with a confirming grunt.

A sly smile crept up on Agho’Linn’s lips and she smothered a giggle. Her show of being enraged about something or another worked well, and now she would be free to do as she wished, so long as she didn’t leave by the door to her room. Throwing some items in a pack as she moved around the room, Agho’Linn slipped into the gear that she wore in the field, trying to keep her elation suppressed the entire time. Today, months and months of worry and waiting might come to a close.

Checking over herself and her bag, Agho’Linn decided that she was ready to leave, and leaned out of the window to her room. Making a low whistle, she was immensely pleased to see Arlen prancing his way to her a moment later. Sliding out of her window, Agho’Linn landed softly in Arlen’s saddle.

Stepping quietly out of the Rellen’thas Manor’s grounds, Agho’Linn urged Arlen to a break-neck speed as soon as they were clear of the gate. She only looked back once, when she and Arlen reached the Orb of Translocation, and she was very pleased to see that no one had followed her. The guards assigned to her for the day were probably still standing in front of her door, waiting for her to emerge.

With a laugh and a toss of the hair, Agho’Linn teleported herself and Arlen to the Ruins of Lordaeron. Her timing proved to be perfect, as the zeppelin to Grom’Gol Base Camp in Stranglethorn Vale arrived at the flight tower just as she did. She purchased a ticket for herself and for Arlen, made sure that Arlen was made comfortable below deck, and then settled herself in on the top deck for the ride.

Lulled away from the feeling of elation that Lord Blackswan’s words had brought her by the rocking motion of the zeppelin, Agho’Linn finally began to wonder how it was that Blackswan had found Theradiel when, after months of searching, she had nothing. Replaying their brief conversation in her mind, she recalled the infuriating way he would refer to her as “Mrs. Andilien” and wondered at that as well; how was it that he seemed to know the truth? Shaking her head and banishing those frets and worries, Agho’Linn focused her thoughts on her upcoming reunion with Theradiel.

The zeppelin came to its floating stop, and brought Agho’Linn’s mind back to her surroundings. She collected Arlen, led him out of Grom’Gol on foot, got her bearings, and then mounted and headed towards the camp of Nessingwary, Jr. She found the dwarf and his small band of explorers where their main camp was set, and reached into the depths of her mind, trying to remember the common language of the humans. Inwardly, she grimaced to think that the language of the orcs came easier to her now than the human-tongue ever did. But then, Agho’Linn would have never dreamed of traipsing through the jungle before the siege. It was a wonder, how things worked out.

She described Theradiel to the dwarf, and made sure to mention Marduk. Theradiel would not have gone anywhere without Marduk, ever, making the worg Theradiel’s most distinguishing feature. Her assumptions correct, Nessingwary, Jr. did not note a thing about a “Sin’Dorei man with long, blond hair and a goatee”, but mention of his “gray furred wolf” summoned immediate recollection. Nessingwary, Jr. pointed Agho’Linn in the direction of Booty Bay.

Frowning considerably, Agho’Linn rode hard on her way back to Grom’Gol and purchased a flight from the base camp to Booty Bay. Finding her way to the shipmaster, Agho’Linn again described Theradiel and Marduk, and once again it was Marduk, and not Theradiel, that was remembered. An amused smile crept over Agho’Linn’s lips as she was told that Theradiel and Marduk had left on a boat for Ratchet a day or two ago. Her heart soared as she assumed that Theradiel had been heading home. She quickly determined that she could ride harder and faster than Theradiel could run, he never had learned the knack of riding, and she could catch up with him easily.

Agho’Linn spent the night in Booty Bay that night, her heart light enough for her to actually enjoy the antics of the pirates and goblins who spent so much of their life near or on the docks. She slept soundly that night, comforted by the sound and smell of the ocean for some reason, and dreamt wonderful dreams of her upcoming reunion with her husband. Even in her sleep, Agho’Linn smiled.

At dawn she purchased a voyage from Booty Bay to Ratchet, and although the shipmaster told her it would be a two-day voyage, Agho’Linn didn’t care. She paid the fee with a smile and happily stepped her way aboard. Two-days at sea was a bit of time, but she could still catch up to Theradiel. Perhaps, she thought with a sly smile to no one in particular, she would catch up to him in Ogrimmar and they could hide away in a room of one of those orcish inns for a few days.

Thoughts of Theradiel and the inn kept Agho’Linn’s mood buoyant during the dreadful sea voyage to Ratchet. She was sea-sick during most of the trip, and generally miserable to be packed aboard a boat with so many other individuals. But, it only took a glance at the black piece of cloth, the scrap of his Andilien tabard they were bound with at their wedding, to make all of the discomfort seem inconsequential. Agho’Linn was on her way back into his arms.

The ship finally made its stop at the docks of Ratchet, and Agho’Linn stepped off the boat and immediately mounted up and rode into the port town. Her eyes caught the Blackswan tabard on an orc, and she blinked in disbelief. Reining in just in front of him, she asked, “Excuse me, but have you seen a male blood elf with long blond hair, accompanied by a gray-furred wolf?”

“You’re the Andilien?” the orc grunted in return.

Agho’Linn narrowed her eyes at the green skin and crisply replied, “Let’s say that I am, for simplicity’s sake.”

The orc then recited a prepared statement that sounded vaguely like a poem, and directed Agho’Linn to the Valley of Spears. Trying her best to contain her excitement, Agho’Linn made a curtsey to the orc and thanked him before racing to the windrider master and purchasing a flight to Desolace. The Valley of Spears was that small area of Desolace that housed the Maraudine Centaurs, and while Agho’Linn could not imagine why Theradiel would have gone there, again she didn’t care.

Landing in Shadowprey Village, again she raced, this time through the mountains, urging Arlen faster and faster over the rocky terrain. She could feel that she was close, so close, to ending this nightmare. Breezing past centaurs so quickly they barely noticed her, she had to rein Arlen in violently as she reached the doors to Maraudon.

Time stopped and Agho’Linn’s heart sank as her eyes took in the scene, her mind not yet fully realizing the meaning behind what she was seeing. There were bodies everywhere. There were centaurs and there were Sin’Dorei. The Sin’Dorei were all similarly armored and geared, and each sported the Blackswan tabard, so it was easy to pick out Sylock amongst them. Diving for Sylock, Agho’Linn’s eyes caught a gray smudge on the ground amidst the bodies. She refused to look in that direction, concentrating first on grabbing Sylock by the shoulders and shaking him. He was still breathing.

“Sylock?” she asked, at first gently.

There was no answer.

“Sylock?!” she asked again, her voice rising in volume and panic.

“SYLOCK?!” she screamed, tears starting to fall from her eyes in panic and frustration.

She tried healing him, tried waking him, but everything was unsuccessful. His condition never improved. Standing again, Agho’Linn decided that she would take him back to Silvermoon… some way or another… and would see him back to health. Maybe then she would know what happened.

Turning slowly, Agho’Linn started towards the lump of gray fur on the ground, her feet unsteady. Her knees felt weak, and her stomach roiled in nervous anticipation. As she drew closer, she could make out the form. It was a wolf, a gray furred wolf.

Standing over the body, her knees failed her and she fell to them. She suppressed a sob as she ran her hands over the lifeless body, and lifted the head of the wolf so she could see the animal’s face. She dropped the body almost as quickly and screamed. It was Marduk.

She tried to deny it at first, but as she patted and stroked the lifeless Marduk’s head, trying to coax him back to life, her fingers ran across a scrap of cloth. It was dyed a crimson red, and she sobbed again at the sight of it. The color and the golden trim along the edge left no question. It was a piece of Theradiel’s Rellen’thas tabard, stuck to Marduk’s fur as if it were used as a makeshift bandage.

Looking over her shoulder, back in the direction of Sylock’s body, Agho’Linn gasped as she realized that he had simply disappeared. Standing and frantically searching the area, there was no trace of Sylock to be found. There were residues of arcane, indicating a portal had been made, many of them in fact, but there was no way to say that Sylock had gone through any one of them, or where they might have gone.

She whistled for Arlen, unable and unwilling to walk even the short distance to his side, completely broken at her discovery. Theradiel would never have allowed Marduk to die. If Theradiel were still alive, she knew, he would have retreated with Marduk and come home. He would have come home to her and she would have healed them both. But, Marduk was dead and with him, Agho’Linn was quite sure, her husband.

Arlen came obediently to her side, and she allowed him to pick his own way out of the valley. Some distance from the bodies, he stopped and began to paw at the ground. Agho’Linn peered sadly down at what Arlen was fussing with, and blinked as she realized it was a bag. A bag much liked the one Theradiel used.

Slipping down Arlen’s side, Agho’Linn sank to the ground as she lifted the bag and began pawing through it. She found the handkerchief that she have given him at their wedding and began to cry. Wrapping the handkerchief around her hand, she kept rummaging through the pack, sniffling and wiping her eyes profusely.

Her hand brushed against a piece of parchment and Agho’Linn snatched it out of the bag as quickly as she could. It was a letter, which she read through tears. It cut off abruptly at the end, blood staining the lower right corner of the parchment. He had been coming home to her, as she had thought, but something ambushed him and now he was gone. The letter confirmed it.

Pulling herself into Arlen’s saddle, Agho’Linn secured Theradiel’s bag along with her own and nudged the talbuk forward. She couldn’t see for the tears streaming out of her eyes, and she couldn’t stop the tears, either. Soon, both her handkerchief and the black piece of cloth she always kept with her were soaked in tears.

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“You don’t need to fuss over me.”

“Yes I do.”

It had become a daily ritual. The words, the breakfast tray she would bring, the gentle way she would change the dressings on his more grievous wounds. Every morning for the last two weeks, it was the same.

Agho’Linn never frowned in front of Theradiel, though she knew that he knew that the corners of her mouth would take a distinctly downward turn when she would uncover the lash-wounds on his back. Some had become grossly infected, so much so that she had to cut them open again and treat them as if they were fresh. She had cried when she had to split the barely-healed skin, but she refused to let any other make the cuts, not even Lirissa.

The treatment had worked, though, and the wounds were no longer raised, red, or warm to the touch. Light dressings covered Theradiel’s back now, instead of the heavy netherweave that had when he first returned. Each strip of linen was treated with some exotic mixture of herbs that Agho’Linn had concocted, meant to heal, to soothe, and to erase.

“Truly, Linn, don’t fuss, I feel far better,” Theradiel complained gruffly.

“Mmm, yes… of course, dear,” Agho’Linn replied dismissively, “Eat your breakfast.”

He still hadn’t determined if the lord’s breakfast she served him each morning was prepared by her own hands, but Theradiel had decided it was wiser not to ask. Putting the finishing touches on the linen dressings, Agho’Linn smirked to herself as she watched Theradiel eat from her vantage point behind him. Carefully, she tried to gauge his appetite, determining the amount she would need to cook for lunch.

She had purposely kept him in the dark, regarding the cook that made his breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Part of her was sure that he wouldn’t have been all that excited to eat the meals she brought him if he had known that she had fixed them herself. Her cooking had much improved during his absence, but there was no need to clue him in to that detail just yet. It might have been too much shock for poor Theradiel just then.

“Will you be back for lunch?” she asked, her tone modulated to make it seem as though the answer didn’t matter, when Theradiel knew very well it did.

“Ah… yes. I will be,” Theradiel answered with a swallow of the restorative tea ‘Linn fixed for him each morning.

The day that Theradiel’s bandages had been swapped from mageweave to silk, he had begun to itch for the woods and for open air. Agho’Linn had seen it on his face, and knew better than to stand in his, and Marduk’s, way. Still, she worried that he would lose himself in the woods and the familiarity there. She worried that he would seclude himself in a corner of Eversong and bury himself there, surrounded by his thoughts of revenge.

She had maneuvered carefully since that day, allowing Theradiel to sneak away from their apartment in Silvermoon as though he were sneaking away from school-lessons. She would feign crossness with him upon his return, and chide him for leaving, telling him he wasn’t well enough to be out and about. Her words only drove him to become “well enough” again, to sneak out more, and to regain his former strength and agility. His single-minded determination kept his mind off the matter of Blackswan. In short, Agho’Linn’s plan had worked, and now, instead of waiting for him to sneak away after breakfast, she openly asked when he would be back.

With a brushing kiss and a wave, she watched as he left their rooms, Marduk at his side. Theradiel’s step was firm, and the cock-sure swagger that he always exuded was settled into his pace with ease. Sighing heavily, Agho’Linn closed the door behind her as she turned and reentered the apartments.

Sinking into an overstuffed chair, she buried her face in her hands and began to cry. She’d kept them all in, all the tears of worry, of frustration, of rage, and now… now that Theradiel was recovered, she could cry them. She’d thought she’d lost him forever, and he’d returned to her steps away from a starved and horrid death. Now, she had seen him back to health, and they could continue as they once were.

But this time, Agho’Linn thought with a still-tearful smile, we won’t have to hide it all.

Read more on this fic here: http://suncrown.mmoguildsites.net/members/4109/journals/413