COINCIDENCE & KISMET: CHAPTER 7

THE PLUNGE

Today had been an awful day. 

One of the worst since this wretched war really started gaining steam.  A stark reminder after a year of strangely enjoyable warfare against the Lich King.

Had it really been a year already?

Xan supposed it had. It felt like it was barely a month ago he and Enoki had been shipped off to the frozen hellhole known as Northrend and thrown headfirst into the fray. There were a few weeks there at the beginning where Xan had serious doubts either of them would live to see the next sunrise, though not for a lack of trying. He suspected that this new protege of Thrall's, some orc who went by the name Garrosh, who was leading the ground offensive was deliberately sending the new arrivals on lethal assignments in an attempt to weed out those he considered 'weak'.

Luckily for the two trolls, they were veterans, and had more than one trick up their sleeves when it came to survival. It also didn't hurt they occasionally had a pair of guardian angels watching their backs as soon as they managed to breach the extent of the Horde's encampment borders. Even if Xan never really saw Armesan, a lot of things would mysteriously fall over all of a sudden, and it was hard to miss the chaos bolts that somehow had a habit of zeroing in on anything that got too frisky with them.

And once Dalaran got involved…well, it was almost criminal how easy it was to play the factions against each other and simply get on with fighting the Lich King and his many…many…allies rather than each other. Unfortunately it also marked the point where Enoki and Xan were no longer sent on the same missions. As Armesan had predicted, warriors were being send to various fronts to reinforce the pushes into enemy territory. Rogues, meanwhile, were being sent to gather intel, or make sure someone or something of import stayed dead.

The silver lining was that at least warlocks were similarly being sent to the same vanguards as warriors, so it was a safe bet that wherever the Horde sent Enoki, Teegan would somehow be nearby, whether the Alliance liked it or not.

As for himself, well, it was child's play to arrange for his assignments to cross paths with Armesan's more often than not. He wasn't going to lie, Xan definitely slept better during those assignments knowing that he wasn't entirely on his own. And the two of them made a disturbingly effective team. Sometimes it would call for Armesan’s expertise in stealth and silent kills.  Other times, Xan’s strength and strike tactics were superior.  Either way, it increased their odds of success and survival dramatically.

Though Xan had noted that as time went on and their success rate continued to stay high, the missions he was chosen for were becoming increasingly dangerous.  Armesan had told him she noticed the same thing from the Alliance side.  An unintended side effect of neither faction's leadership realizing that they were working together.  Both had to take the credit for the success of the mission, and thus both were considered the best for the more dangerous assignments.

And yet, if it weren't for the near constant brushes with death, the absolutely horrible violations against nature occurring on an almost daily basis (because what self respecting troll tribe fucking EATS their Loa?! Even the Bloodscalp weren't that bloodthirsty!), and the very real sense of the survival of every living thing on this planet hanging by a thread, Xan might’ve been tempted to call it fun.

Stories traded over a fire, whether it was about poisons, weapons, or just…moments they spent together as friends on the road.  Not rogues, not soldiers, not a troll and a night elf. Times they were able to steal away whenever they weren’t stuck scouting or tracking a mark. Xan couldn't remember the last time he'd had a friend like this.

And when things got dangerous, they would fall into a pattern of watching out for the other, baiting and switching depending on what they were up against.  All in all, a great arrangement considering they were often fighting for their lives in a war against the undead.

But that had been before today.

Before they realized that there might be something more sinister behind the Lich King's campaign other than trying to obliterate the living with sheer numbers.

Initially this had been just another assignment to infiltrate a vrykul stronghold, assess their numbers and maybe nab a few battle plans in the process.  Nothing too fancy.  Both the Alliance and the Horde were sending operatives into various points to get as much information on the movement from this group as they could.  So it was no real surprise when he found the little marker he and Armesan used to tip each other off as to where they were going and it said Utgarde.  They needed a way to sever the Lich King's ties. It stood to reason that both sides would send their own pick of operatives to infiltrate.

It should have been easy, because as far as anyone knew, Xan and Armesan were nobodies to the Lich King and his allies. Shadows. Ghosts. Names with no face to go with them. Nothing anyone had seen or heard had indicated that the Lich King would take interest in individual foot soldiers or scouts.  His focus had been in calling out the leaders.  Thrall. Sylvannas Windrunner.  Varian Wrynn.  Tirion Fordring.  But never the rank and file. 

That assumption was why Xan had been waiting outside the chamber when it all went down. They had narrowed down their target to a central chamber, and unfortunately it was being guarded by a few sets of vrykul huntmasters and their beasts; one of the few scenarios where Armesan's superior skill in sneaking by undetected was required and Xan couldn't quite follow. As irritating as it was being forced to sit on the sidelines, Xan didn't think much of the extra guard at the time. It made sense, they had been gaining some ground, the vrykul in particular were starting to pool more resources into guarding their strongholds.

It was when there was some commotion in the next room and the guards didn’t go running that set the warning bells off in his head.  With a sinking feeling he’d bolted past the guards, animals be damned, and managed to get into the room. There was an active binding circle and a ring of necromancers chanting some vile ritual nonsense, and smack in the center was Armesan, clutching her side and throwing herself against the cursed chains in an attempt to get out. That in and of itself wasn’t great, but it wasn’t unmanageable. Necromancers were easy to pick off while they were maintaining ritual circles if they didn’t have guards. No, what was unmanageable was that they DID have guards. Lots of them. And one of them was a fucking Val’kyr hovering menacingly above the binding circle.

Those fucking things were NOT supposed to be here. They were all supposed to be accounted for elsewhere.

It had been a trap, and not just that, a trap designed to cage and corrupt. Not just kill and raise. Those they had seen before. This was different in that way that they'd have to look back on later and dissect to truly understand what he was seeing, but at the time all concern for the mission was thrown aside.

The worgs that had detected him dashing through the doorway had caught up and alerted the Val'kyr and the necromancers to his presence, and he'd had about three seconds to act before the element of surprise was lost.

So he'd made a choice and decided to deal with the consequences later. The important part was that at the end of all of it, he had a wounded Armesan cradled in his arms, and every necromancer and guard in that wing, including the Val'kyr, was torn to shreds. 

It was beyond dark when Xan was finally confident enough they had lost any pursuers to stop running.  He had managed to get them to where they had left their mounts, but even with the aide of the raptor and great war cat, they only managed to make it away from the fortress and into the forests that carpeted the Vrykul lands before it became clear they were not getting anywhere close to civilization that night.

“A’m, how ya doin’ back dere?” Xan called over his shoulder.  He could hear the soft foot falls of the tiger falling further behind as they went.

Armesan didn’t answer, which was worrying.  Whatever those necromancers had done to her was more than a simple injury.  Xan had seen her shake off worse before.  He pulled his raptor to a slower gait, letting the black war tiger catch up so he could check on the elf.  He thanked the loa that she was still sitting on the steed, if only barely, which meant she was conscious.  But she was swaying dangerously. 

"A'm?"

"'M okay," she slurred groggily.

"Uh huh, an' Malfurion's mah uncle," Xan snorted, not believe her for an instant. "We gotta get ya to a real healah. Where ya hearthstone be keyed ta?"

"Outpost…in…Icecrown…" she muttered, pausing in between words as if something were distracting her. "Death Knights. No healers there."

Xan swore under his breath. His wasn't set much better. In theory he could maybe have her ride with him, but Zuka was not that large of a raptor, built more for speed and stealth than strength. She'd struggle with the both of them. And while Armesan's cat had come to allow him to occasionally pet him, Xan had no illusions that he would tolerate him riding, even if it was to save his mistress.

“Den it looks like we restin’ here tonight ‘til ya heal up some,” Xan sighed, searching for a defensible outcropping.  

Armesan’s unfocused gaze shifted from Xan to her tiger, and she slurred something akin to 'haven' in Darnassian.  The cat rumbled in response and seemed to understand, immediately shifting his demeanor and taking the lead.  Xan had seen the cat do this a few times, where he would use his night vision and keener senses to seek out things they could not. 

The cat prowled and eventually was able to lead them to a shallow cave just under a hill, mostly obscured by an overturned tree and it’s vast roots.  Xan poked at it a few times with a few thrown stones to see if anything was flushed out, but thankfully it seemed unoccupied.

“Good kitty,” Xan muttered, patting the great war tiger’s flank.  The cat grumbled, but accepted the praise and laid down so his rider could get off. 

“Ya okay dere A’m?” Xan asked, watching as she more of less slid off the saddle.  

“I’m just…it hurts…” she mumbled, her speech slightly garbled.  Something was definitely wrong, but it wasn’t clear exactly what in the darkness. Xan hadn't thought her wounds were that bad, but it was entirely possible the necromancers had laced some disease or curse into whatever she'd been hit with.

“Should be clear inside.  Get a fire goin’ I get da packs,” Xan said, turning to unhitch their packs from the animals.  He grimaced when he reached and there was an uncomfortable tug of skin on the arm that had taken a hit from one of the worgs.

“Fuck…” he grumbled. In all the panic, he'd forgotten some of side-effects of those 'consequences' from earlier.  Glancing at his arm, he saw that it had already healed from the damage, but some of the armor hadn’t been fully removed before the skin closed up, and when he tried to peel off the shredded glove, it pulled at the freshly healed skin.  He felt a similar pull on his shoulder now that he was paying attention. Well this was going to get messy.

Grumbling to himself he decided that he could probably go a few hours before there was any real risk of infection. He could deal with it later. He grabbed his pack off of his raptor’s saddle, and gently lead her over to the mouth of the cave.  “You stay here girl, gonna need ya to stand guard tonight with the cat.  I got a bad feelin’ we got otha things ta deal with.”

His raptor chirped quietly, curling into a ball but her head still upright, watching in the darkness.  The great war tiger was already lying half in front of the entrance, ears perked and alert, his glowing eyes scanning the dark forests for threats.

As protected as they could be given the circumstances, Xan grabbed Armesan’s pack as well and retreated to the back of the cave where he could hear the ‘tink’ of flint and steel bouncing off the walls.  He found her struggling to line up the tools so she could strike a spark, pausing way too often to rub at her eyes as if something were clouding her vision.

“A’m?” 

“I got it…I got….I know it’s easy for you, not all of us can conjure flames to light a fire you know…” she muttered, glancing irritably over her shoulder into the dark of the cavern.  

Xan blinked.  “Who said anything about conjurin’ flames?”

The night elf whirled around, blinking rapidly at the sound of Xan’s voice, then shook her head and tried returning to her task, only to have the flint slip and hit the dirt again. “Fuck,” she grumbled.

Xan gently grabbed the firestarter kit from the elf, a little concerned she didn’t even fight.  A quick stroke and the tinder she had managed to put into a pile lit up, shedding some much needed light on their sanctuary.  He quickly added a few sticks and thicker branches they’d stockpiled on their mounts for just such occasions, getting the fire good and steady enough that he could finally assess their situation.

As he'd already figured, the arm and shoulder that had taken the worgs directly were now interwoven with the shredded remains of his armor and would require some…extraction. The rest of his armor might as well have been shredded too, for all the open holes and slices all over it. He really hoped Armesan didn't ask why there wasn't more blood on the armor.

Xan shook his head and decided not to worry about it until and unless it came up. Instead he started rummaging through his bags to see what their potion supply looked like and how fucked they were. He clicked his tongue against a tusk in disgust when he saw a bunch of empty vials that used to hold his greater healing potions.

"Fuck, hey A'm, whacha got fo' potions in ya pack?"

“You know I can’t, Ozzy.  You don’t have to make it a big deal, lots of people can’t heal like the priestesses!”

Xan froze mid-rifiling, and finally fully turning around to get a good look at Armesan.

At first glance she didn't seem that injured beyond the obvious, a large gash on her side and a hole in her calf where something had pierced the armor. They appeared to have clotted at some point but something else was still seeping from the wounds; some odd combination of blood and…ichor?    But what was worrying was the fact that she wasn’t actually focusing on anything in particular, and seemed to be talking to someone who wasn’t even there.  Every few seconds her gaze would shift and twitch as if there were things she could see and hear that he couldn’t.

“A’m?  Who’s Ozzy?” Xan asked, 

She didn’t seem to hear him, and simply tried to curl up into a tighter ball, reflexively pressing a hand over an ear as if to shut out whatever she was hearing.  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I swear I’ll get help, I promise I’ll get help.  I can’t…”

"Fuck,” Xan swore, grabbing the packs to see if by some miracle she had something that dealt with diseases or curses. Knowing necromancers, it could be either. He really hoped it didn't have anything to do with the Val'kyr. 

“I’m sorry Ozzy…I’m sorry I told you I wasn’t…It’s not my fault I don’t have magic…” 

“Okay A’m, no idea who dis Ozzy is, but just drink dis an’ ya feel better, okay?” Xan said soothingly, pressing a potion bottle into her hands.  Thankfully she took the bottle, and some part of her seemed to register what he said, because she did manage to down the contents.  Unfortunately, while the bleeding stopped, the wounds weren't quite healing. And whatever that ichor was…that wasn't going away either, and whatever hallucinations she was dealing with did not seem to let up. So not a curse, and not a disease. Whatever she was seeing, it wasn't due to a blight. Next possibility…magic.

“I’m sorry…I’m sorry….I shouldn’t have…..I thought we could protect you…We didn’t know…Armin….”

Xan froze at the name.  He remembered that name being her son’s. Okay so...magic that…makes you hallucinate. Or see the dead.

Oh gods and loa please let it not be that second one. 

“Hey, A’m?  Hey, no one be dere, okay?  It just be us, right now.” Xan said, trying to catch her gaze as her eyes darted all over the cave at whatever specters were haunting her.

“I couldn’t save them, I failed them.  I lived when they died and it should’ve been the other way around,” she whispered, half to him and half to herself.

“Ya dat be survivor’s guilt talkin, not any ghosties, okay?” Xan put a hand on her shoulder to try and get her attention grounded in the present again.  “Dat an'whatever shit dose necromancers put in ya.”

She hung her head low, but grasped onto his hand tightly, her grip much stronger than he’d expected, as if she were desperately trying to cling to sanity and he was the only lifeline she could find.  “It wasn’t… the necromancers.”

“Wait…what?”

Armesan uncurled enough to unlatch a shoulder pad and underneath Xan could see the cut that had been hidden before, by comparison a small stab mark, barely deeper than any of the others, but it seethed angrily with tendrils of dark magic.  It was cold and unholy, and corrupt in every sense of the word.

A cut that reeked of the same dread aura that surrounded the Lich King. Frostmourne's magic.  The Lich King had been there.

Oh shit, that had been why that Val'kyr had been there.  It had been new.

Xan blanked.  There weren’t enough potions in the world to cure whatever shit Frostmourne was slinging around. But...maybe there was a way to hinder it enough so she could fight it off.  In frantically running through his mental catalog of ‘what-the-fuck-to-do-about-magic-afflictions’, he vaguely recalled some of the lessons he’d picked up from the village witchdoctors when Sai’in had started showing signs of having magical talent. 

Magic, especially potent magic, was hard to control, but with enough willpower it could be brought in line.  Maybe it could work that way with intrusive magic too.  Enough will, and maybe she could shake it off.  He just had to ground her enough so she could get the upper hand.  Frostmourne seemed to be drawing on old wounds, lost friends and loved ones, and using them to break her will to resist it.  Add that to her injuries, and it was slowly consuming her.

“You’re gonna hate me fo’ dis, A’m, but it’s fo’ ya own good,”  Xan sighed.  He pressed hard into her leg wound with his free hand, eliciting a none too quiet shriek of pain from the elf.  Her nails dug into his wrist hard, opening a fresh set of marks in his already damaged arm, but he ignored it.  

“AAAAAH FUCK WHAT THE FUCK XAN?!” she seethed through clenched teeth, but her eyes were focused again, no longer roaming wildly in a feverish dream.

“Da fuck is, da Lich King's magic be corruptin’ ya.  Usin’ ya memories against ya.  I got a few healin’ potions left but dey ain’t gonna do much with dis shit eatin’ ya from da inside out, so ya gonna have ta fight it off yaself.”

The night elf groaned and pressed the heel of her palm against her temple.  “They’re so loud…..”

“Yah….I know….”

“You’re going to have to keep doing that…” she groaned through gritted teeth.  

“Yah…I figured,” Xan sighed, but grabbed a blackjack from one of his pouches.  “Might wanna bite down on dis.  ‘s gonna be a long night.”

---

Long was a generous descriptor of that night.  Excruciating, agonizing, perhaps might have been more accurate. 

Eye-opening, in the cruelest way possible.

As their friendship over the last year had grown, more and more tidbits of their lives had been shared between them, but the lion's share of Armesan's past, particularly before the death of her son, was always sort of a mystery to Xan. She'd always avoid or deflect whenever he'd poke and needle at that particular part of her life.

Now he knew why. And he wished this hadn't been the way he'd learned it.

He learned Ozzy had been a childhood friend of hers who had died in an accident. Apparently he had pleaded with her to try heal him, only to have her instead go to get help, and return too late.

He learned that one of her first jobs as an assassin had been to kill a housemaid and a bastard child of some highborne court noble that threatened a lineage. They'd pleaded with her until the bitter end.

Her best friend before Teegan had sacrificed her soul to stop Archimonde. Another had died defending Ashenvale when the Horde first started invading.

He'd also learned she was from the capital city of the Kaldorei Empire. Part of some lower highborne house, and that apparently Armesan didn't have any magical ability, the innate magic at the time so common in her kin. A trait that marked her as a stain the very instant it was discovered.

Xan also learned her ex husband's name. How he'd promised her the world. How if only she weren't defective, maybe they could have saved their son from the satyrs.

If only she would give up, she could make up for everything. Submit. Serve.

The delusions became more heart wrenching as the night wore on, the suggestions and twisted words getting sharper and harder to refute every time she would push back against the corruption.  The onslaught was unrelenting.  And each time, if she didn’t manage to catch the delusions before they became too strong, Xan would have to be the one to hurt her enough for the pain to cut through the visions.

By the time the first light of dawn came, the voices had finally started waning, and Xan had been able to grab an hour or so of sleep before he was woken up by the slightly muffled grunts of pain coming from Armesan, who was more or less curled up next to him.

“Sorry,” she whispered hoarsely.  She seemed both better, and worse, if that were possible.  The focus was back in her eyes, and she no longer flinched or recoiled from some invisible barb, but now the physical damage was taking its toll.  She had lost a lot of blood and had not slept in over 48 hours, and while there was no more ichor, she was still slowly bleeding from the wounds they hadn’t allowed to heal. 

“How ya doin’?” Xan asked, helping prop her up as he shifted.

“They’re quiet now.  I think the worst may be over….sort of….” Armesan groaned, looking at the fresh blood on her palm from where she had dug into her side.  “I can’t feel my fingertips…and we’re down to one healing potion. I’m pretty sure it’s a minor one.”

“Fuck,” Xan grumbled.

“How’re your wounds?”  Armesan asked, glancing up at the troll.

“Eh, I’ll be fine.” Xan shrugged, waving it off quickly.

“Cheating ass troll,” Armesan grumbled, but the corner of her mouth twitched in a weak smile.  “I would seriously take your regeneration over immortality right about now.”

Xan smiled back weakly, but then paused, the idle comment sparking the beginnings of an idea.  “Huh….”

“What?”

“How much ya know about Alchemy?” Xan mused, rummaging through the decimated potion supply until he found the remaining minor healing potion left.

“Basics. Which I am now regretting.  Why?”

“Because I got a real stupid idea an’ no idea if it’ll work,” Xan sighed, flipping out a spare dagger from his belt.  “Know what one of da main ingredients in dose regeneratin’ potions used ta be?”

Armesan looked at the potion bottle and dagger in his hand and then after some quick mental math, groaned.  “Oh you cannot be serious.”

“Might not be much but it be worth a shot.  It just gotta be enough ta get ya back ta an Alliance outpost.  Cause ya sure as shit ain’t makin’ it like dis.  An’ I ain’t leavin’ ya,” Xan grumbled, blade biting into the meat of his palm enough to open a decent sized cut.  He uncorked the potion bottle with his teeth and set about the gruesome mixing task, letting as much of the blood drip into the healing potion as he could manage. In the back of his mind he noted that the wound wasn't closing up as fast as his others had and mentally sighed in relief. Everything had worn off and his regeneration was back to normal. At least there was that.

“This is such a bad idea,” Armesan moaned, but she seemed resigned to her fate, given her plaid color and how much she was shaking even when sitting still.  

“What, a little blood drinkin' gonna offend ya delicate elf sensibilities?” Xan smirked, trying to lift the mood some. 

Unable to come up with a witty retort, she merely threw some bandages at his face when he was finished and took the ad hocked regeneration potion.  “Well…desperate times.”

She threw back the concoction as fast as possible. There was a brief moment where it looked like she wouldn’t be able to keep everything down, but after a few seconds and deep breaths, she managed it. It was probably a good thing they hadn’t eaten anything yet. 

“Oh fu- goddess that is…wow…that urk sure is something…” Armesan choked. When she’d regained some semblance of composure, she turned to Xan, looking like death warmed over and said,  “Xan, I’m sorry but you are a shitty alchemist.”

The troll couldn’t keep the bark of laughter back if he’d tried. 

“Fuck I haven’t tasted anything that vile since I was a trainee in the dorms,” the night elf gagged slightly for comedic effect, but it seemed to be working as the shaking in her hands stilled as she handed the flask back to Xan.

“Ya elves had dorms fo’ ya class trainin’?” Xan asked, relieved to see her color start returning.

“Yeah, before the Sundering there were…I guess academies of sorts?  Class Halls?  I don’t know what you’d call them.  But I lived there with the other trainees.  It was a way to show we were all equals in the halls of the schools despite which houses we hailed from.”

“That’s a load a shit, ya know dat right?” Xan chuckled.  He settled back into his little nook against the wall, bandaging his palm until it could heal shut.

“Oh I know.  My house was not that prosperous and I was kind of…infamous by that point. I was not popular,” she shrugged.  

“So what’d ya do?” Xan asked.

“I decided the best way to try and score some popularity points was to try and smuggle in some alcohol.  I learned two things that night.  One, I was really good at sneaking.  And two, our instructor had absolutely shit taste in wine.” the night elf chuckled.  “Unfortunately it made us all sick so we got caught the next day when we all showed up with hangovers.  I aced my sneaking class, but ended up cleaning the poisons lab for a week.”

“Pffft, I see ya instructahs not be much different den ours,” the troll laughed.  “Ol’ Ma’li nevah drank any good stuff.”

“You ever get caught?”

“Technically no…” Xan hedged, grinning down at the rogue next to him.

She returned the grin weakly and settled in leaning against him heavily.  She seemed suddenly extremely tired but the conversation was enough to keep her conscious until the potion could finish its work.  “That sounds like a fun story.  Do tell.”

“Wasn’t caught by da instructors.  But uh….well I had a friend an’ we were both young and she had da jungle heat an’....yeah we mighta woken up da priests next door.”  Xan shrugged.

“Literally got caught with your pants down?” Armesan snorted.

“Ya do dumb t’ings when ya be 15 an’ horny, what can I say?” Xan laughed, amused by how hilarious the elf seemed to find this.  He suspected the mania of exhaustion was setting in.  “Ya tellin’ me ya elves nevah got up ta anytin’?”

“Oh they did, but I was the outcast, remember?  Even after the wine stunt, I was still only able to avoid the worst of the bullying.  No one wanted the scrawny magic-less thief from a peasant house,” Armesan shrugged.

“Ya tellin’ me ya were too pitiable even fo’ a pity fuck?” Xan gaped.

Armesan snorted again in that increasingly adorable way that had Xan grinning helplessly along with her.  “Magic-less night elf in a society of mages and magic and Highborne?  They probably thought I was contagious.  Why do you think I got so good at my knife work?” 

“Da ten thousand yeahs of practice?” Xan pointed out.

“Nahhhh.  I mean, sure the Long Vigil was….long but when I was young, I spent much of my time just...training.  Not much else.  Probably why I fell for Raphion so hard,” she said offhandedly.

“Yeah ya…mighta mentioned him.” Xan admitted. He wasn't entirely sure she was aware how much he'd picked up from her ramblings over the course of the night.

She glanced at Xan and smiled a bit as she shrugged helplessly.  "Well, you always kept prodding. Now you know." She seemed strangely calm about it, given how evasive she’d historically been, keeping everything personal at arm’s length. It might’ve been the exhaustion, or just to keep the conversation going, but this felt different than their usual bartering of information. Something seemed to have shifted between them and Xan wasn’t going to lie, he liked how relaxed and natural it felt. If Armesan noticed it too, she made no real indication, but she didn’t stop talking, so Xan didn’t look the gift horse in the mouth.

“Anyway, he was a mage from a much more powerful house. I’d been contracted out to them a few times in the past, but one day they offered me a position as a shadow retainer; basically a personal on-call assassin.  I had no idea why, in the beginning. Getting an offer like that, you never really expect it to happen to you, it was like winning a jackpot in the world of assassins. Eventually I found out it was at his insistence, and when I asked him about it he said the house was looking to hire on a retainer and he thought I was beautiful despite my...*ahem* ‘deficiencies’, so…he'd suggested me. I was furious, thinking this once in a lifetime opportunity was simply because some wannabe princeling thought I could be easily bought, so I told him to go fuck himself," Armesan chuckled softly at the memory.

"Bit of a spitfire in ya youth were ya?" Xan snickered, having absolutely no problem imagining her telling off some stuffy night elf noble.

"I couldn’t really turn down the job though. I was good, but not good enough to think I’d ever get another offer like that. So despite everything, I accepted.…and Raphion...well, he was not the first admirer to bring up my little 'oddity', but he was the first to keep trying to talk to me after I told him to fuck off. Multiple times. So, as time went on, one thing led to another and then kept leading to another, and eventually he asked me to marry him.”

"Sounds like one of dose romance novels da Goblins write. 'Da Assassin an' da Noble'."

“He wasn't a noble, technically! Just from a house that had the ear of some," Armesan clarified.

Xan grinned at her. "Sai' mighta been onta somethin' wit dose stories she was makin’ up ‘bout ya."

That earned him a weak snort of amusement from the night elf, but the humor shifted quickly as her expression fell. "And...this house, no matter how good at killing their enemies I was, did not approve of one of their scions choosing an assassin with such a blemish on her lineage as a wife." She said it with a mock sneer, but there was that all too familiar bitterness that said despite everything, this still stung. Xan gracefully said nothing and let her continue. 

"But we were in love, and Raphion was already sort of the black sheep of the family, so he offered to run away with me, just the two of us, outcasts together.  At the time I couldn’t be happier.  So off we ran.  Hid in a village far away from either of our houses, our guilds, our responsibilities, and disappeared into a quiet little life.  We were happy, for a time.”  She trailed off a bit at the end, and for a moment Xan thought she had fallen asleep, until he looked down and saw her eyes still open, but far away.

“Den da saytrs hit ya?” Xan prodded gently when the silence stretched a bit too long. 

“That was…certainly the nail in the coffin.  But we had our ups and downs.  Young love burns bright and fierce at first, but the ashes it leaves behind can sometimes turn barren.  We had to make a living and without the backing of any houses and with no real trades to speak of, we had limited options.  Raphion was a mage, and that helped some, but being an instructor, it was just barely enough to get by.  So I  joined the town guard and…well the Magistrate took notice of my particular skill set and offered a more lucrative position.  So long as no one was the wiser, he paid well enough that we could afford to give Armin a real life. Raphion…was not thrilled about this."

"Ya'd think given how he met ya, he'd have seen dat comin'," Xan pointed out.

"You would think," Armesan nodded in agreement. "But I guess the idea of his wife sneaking off in the middle of the night to spy on political rivals or arrange an 'accident' wasn't as appealing as he thought it'd be. Or maybe with Armin he thought it was too dangerous, that it would put too big a target on our son if I was ever discovered. Who could say. I never got a straight answer, if there even was one.  There were just…many nights spent arguing… but we were willing to work through it for Armin's sake. Until…well…you know.   Goddess I haven’t thought about this shit in ages….what was in that fucking potion?”  Armesan weakly jabbed Xan in the arm in protest, eliciting a chuckle from the troll to help break the mood.  

“Well fo’ what it be worth, not havin’ magic ain’t a deficiency, an’ I can’t imagine how da fuck anyone found ya pitiable. If ya’d been a troll ya’d probably have had men linin’ up fo when da heat hit ya.”

“Pfffft now THAT’S an image,” she snorted.  “What even is that anyway, I hear troll women make that joke all the time.  Isn't that just a way of saying you’re horny?”

“It be a bit mo’ den dat,” Xan laughed, imagining the elf, supposedly on a spy mission, trying to parse troll slang into something usable.  "It’s…kinda like a matin’ season t’ing." 

"What are you guys, like cats where the women just yowl and screech until they get some?” 

It was Xan’s turn to start giggling in the start of sleep deprivation induced mania.  “Da fuck kinda stories dey tell about trolls ovah dere in da Alliance?”

“Well what then?!”

“Most troll women get inta a mood when da heat hits dem and most o’ da time dey burn it off by fuckin’ anyone willin’ ta try an’ survive 'em.  Otha times, dey kill everythin’ in their path for a few days.”

There was a distinct pause before Armesan just looked up at Xan and said,“What the fuck is wrong with your species?!”

Xan just laughed, the knot of fear and concern over the past 12 hours finally starting to come undone.  “Dun knock it till ya try it,” he shot back between giggles.

“Yeah sure, I’ll just put that on my wishlist,” Armesan snarked, but her voice was starting to trail off a bit.  She seemed to settle in against his shoulder, more or less using him as a headrest.  “Death by sex.  What a way to go.”

“There are worse ways to bite it,” Xan shrugged, adjusting so she could get more comfortable. “I'll keep watch, ya git some sleep.”

He needn’t have said anything.  Armesan was already fast asleep. Xan chuckled and settled back against the wall, making sure not to shift too much and disturb her.  It was rare to see his friend so completely asleep.  Like many rogues, she tended to be a light sleeper, some part of her always on alert for hidden dangers.  Right now, she was so utterly exhausted that she seemed like a completely different person.  Her face was more relaxed, giving her expression a serene and oddly peaceful look, despite the dried blood and dirt all over.  He wondered idly, as he tossed another log on the fire, if she'd always looked this pretty.  

---

It was dark outside again when she woke up, though if it was because it was night or if the storm Armesan heard pounding outside their cave was actually that bad, she couldn't tell.

"-ey, A'm. Ya gotta get up."

The muzzy sound of Xan's voice drew her attention away from the echo of the rain bouncing off the walls and back to what had actually woken her up, which was the troll's hands gently wrapped around her shoulders trying to help her up out of his lap.

She didn't recall falling asleep in his lap but apparently at some point she must have shifted and ended up draped over his legs rather than just against his side.

“Whassat?  Attack?” she slurred, lurching upright and fumbling around blindly for her daggers.  

“No attack,” Xan said simply as she finished waking up, the clumsy half asleep movements smoothing out as the moments went on.  Gods she must have been beyond exhausted to be this out of it still.

But she was moving, and without the familiar sear of deep stab wounds. Glancing down she noted that her side had scabbed over, not entirely healed shut, but the deeper parts felt more put back together. The stab wound through her calf might actually only need bandages to get her back to a real healer who could finish the job. Maybe that vile concoction Xan had mixed up last night had actually done more good than they'd thought.  

“Then what?” she yawned, her brain slowly catching up with her body.

“I need mah legs back fo’ a little bit.”  He accentuated the point by pulling out his dagger again and going to work on a destroyed pant leg, slowly cutting it away above the damaged area and peeling it off.

“Oh fuck….right….” Armesan grumbled, wiping the last vestiges of sleep out of her eyes and turning her focus to her own armor.  The last thing they needed was one of them getting an infection from dirty leather in untreated wounds. Her leg she could see merely needed her boot taken off and some of the underlayer patched up. The wound itself was mostly clean, anything serious pushed out by the potions. She could take care of the rest when she got back to civilization. Her side however, she was struggling to see without twisting too much, conscious of how it was only barely healed enough to permit movement, which apparently Xan noticed.

“I'll help ya wit yours in a sec…I’m gonna need ya ta help wit some of ma armor first,” Xan said, tossing aside the destroyed leather.

“What's wrong with your  armor?” 

“Dis.”

He lifted the shredded glove so she could see the torn leather woven underneath some of the healed skin.   She curled her lip in mild disgust and widened her eyes a bit in surprise.

“Ungh.  That’s a new one.  I guess there are some side effects to that whole regeneration thing,” Armesan squinted a bit at his arm. "How in the hells did it get that shredded?"

"Had ta get past da worgs somehow," he replied casually, checking the mess of his arm as if to see if he could get it out himself, to no avail. "An' I fo’got all about it between da curses an’ potions."

He'd taken on the worgs?

"Okay…well…what do you need me to do?” the night elf said after a moment, deciding the puzzle of how Xan's glove became leather scraps with his arm still attached could wait.

“I cut, ya pull,” he raised his mangled arm and picked up a dagger. 

Armesan nodded and carefully wedged her fingers underneath the remains of the glove as Xan positioned the dagger.  “One….two….”

“T’ree.”

Thankfully the dagger easily destroyed the remaining shreds of the glove allowing Armesan to pull the larger chunks free, but the long flaps of leather were entwined too tightly with his skin and wouldn't budge. Eventually Xan just gave up trying to grit through it and cut into his arm to free the shreds.  It was gruesome, but necessary work. 

“Ffffuuuuuck.” Xan hissed, finally letting go of the breath once the last shred came free.  He fell back against the wall as  Armesan tossed the destroyed glove on the growing pile of unsalvageable armor.  “Shit dat hurt.  Hate it when dat happens.”

“You’ve had this happen before?” Armesan raised an eyebrow at him briefly, inspecting his newly bleeding arm for any remaining pieces.  

“Few times, ungh…damn dis one was in deep,” he hissed as she prodded him.  She hummed in acknowledgment and while she didn’t stop her prodding, she was more gentle and slow.  

“Well seems it came out clean enough,” she sighed, grabbing a few frostweave bandages from her pack and setting to work.  “I don’t suppose you’re left handed, are you?”

“Wish I was.”

“Heh, of course,” she chuckled.  She fished something out of her pack and opened it up to reveal a slightly translucent cream of sorts.  Without a word she started spreading the poultice along the fresh cuts on his arm.  Xan seemed surprised how quickly the balm turned the burning pain into a simple cool throb.  Armesan caught his expression out of the corner of her eye and smirked at his reaction as she worked.

“Numbing salve.  Helps when I have to keep moving and pain would get in the way.”

“Shit ya gonna have ta teach me dat one.  Works like a dream,” Xan murmured, flexing his fingers deftly and seeming to marvel at the lack of pain from the movement. 

“It does, but if you use too much you could end up going into paralytic shock,” She chuckled.  Xan paused for a moment, then shrugged.  

“Eh, worth it.”

She worked gently, careful not to move the flaps of skin too much, wrapping his arm once she had finished with the application. She paused momentarily as she tied off the end of the wrapping, noting the absolutely decimated shoulder pauldron barely hanging onto the same arm, and the mess of more shredded leather underneath.  

“Is your shoulder okay?”

Xan tried to roll his shoulder and groaned.  “Define, 'okay'.”

“Turn around you big baby,” she chuckled, affectionately pushing him.  He sighed, unclipping the belt buckles that secured his shoulder pads to his chestplate as he shuffled around to put his back to her, but when he did, Armesan actually had to blink a bit in disbelief. There was very little left of the back part of the armor that should have covered his shoulder. Almost like something had either torn or bitten a large chunk of him clean off. And yet she could see the unmarred skin underneath no worse for wear. No missing pieces or anything indicating that he himself had taken any real damage.

“How bad is it?” Xan asked suddenly. Armesan shook herself out of her stupor and shifted to her knees so she could more easily access the actual armor rather than just gape.

“Are you sure you just tangled with worgs? Because you're going to need a new set. Even I can't fix this,” Armesan said, gently lifting the layers of the pauldron so she could see the rest underneath.

Ah, there it was, more of that twisted melding of healed blue skin over the scraps of treated leather.

"Yeah you've got more under here. Less bad than the arm it seems, but there are a few layers of it. The pauldron's in there too. We'll have to take the layers off one at a time to see which ones though."

Xan grumbled but complied, fumbling a bit with his injured arm as he unlatched the buckles keeping the chestplate in place.  Normally Armesan was grateful for the multiple layers of armor that went into most rogue armors.  They allowed for maximum movement without giving up protection.  Unfortunately now, this just meant that there were a lot of layers to peel off.  Chestguard, neckguard, the underlayers.  Each had to be peeled off slowly to make sure they didn’t rip open any wounds, and to find the ones that were wedged into his shoulder. After most of the outer layers had been gingerly maneuvered off, Armesan sighed a bit in relief.

“Okay this isn’t so bad,” she mused, her fingers prodding at his shoulder where the problem layers were stuck.  “Just give me a minute.”  There was a ‘shink’ of her dagger as she flipped it out and set to work surgically loosening the scraps of leather from his shoulder.  She worked fast and by comparison to his arm, it seemed relatively painlessly. There was no movement or hissing from Xan as there had been earlier. After a few minutes, she sheathed the dagger and gently peeled the leather off, fully exposing his back to the night air.   

“Okay, looks like we got it all,” the night elf said, her hands running along his back to inspect her work. She'd managed to extract the armor with minimal cuts, leaving only a few cuts that would probably be healed in a few hours at most. She definitely was envious of the fast healing trolls possessed.  She felt along his back almost idly, ghosting along the planes of his shoulderblades before she came to a sudden stop at the opposite side.  “Did you dislocate a shoulder?”

“What?  No.”  Xan choked out trying to move out from under her hand but she grabbed his shoulder with one hand and wedged her fingers along his anatomy until she found her target.

“Yes you did, what the hells? Hold still as second,” Armesan grumbled, and dug her fingers into the muscle until there was an almost audible click and the taunt muscles relaxed some.  Xan hissed a bit initially but the sudden pop and release of tension turned it quickly into an almost purr, which Armesan couldn't help but laugh at. 

He groaned, shifting the shoulder she had just adjusted as if to test it out. "Okay…yeah maybe I did."

The night elf snorted in amusement. Men were all the same, no matter the race. Always trying to tough it out. She noted another spot where the musculature wasn't quite moving as smoothly as the rest as Xan shifted around and gently poked at it. It earned a light hiss and a twitch as the whatever pinched nerves the muscles were wrapped around were triggered.

“Goddess you are a mess,” Armesan sighed. Xan seemed about to respond, but was quickly distracted as she dug into another knot.  This time he couldn’t help but purr as the tension he didn’t even realize he was carrying was suddenly released.

“I guess we found another side effect of troll regeneration.  You heal fast, but it doesn’t always settle back into place correctly,” She chuckled lightly, trying to ignore the way the taut muscles moved under her fingers.  She'd never really had unfettered access to his skin like this and it was…well it was certainly nicer than a troll's skin covered in blood. Everyone felt the same when they were covered in blood. It felt weirdly intimate given he was her friend, even if it was just his back.

“Shit if ya ever give up da assassin life, ya could make a killin’ in da massage parlors,” Xan muttered, rolling his shoulders absently.  She chuckled in response but didn’t stop touching his bare skin, fingertips slowly flattening into palms as she idly explored the planes of his back. After a moment or two, she heard the rumble of Xan's laughter as he glanced back at her over his shoulder with smug amusement in his eye.

"Ya getting’ distracted back dere?"

It took her brain a full minute to realize what she was doing and when she did, she had to do a mental double take. 

"Oh! Um…right…" she stammered.

"'Ey ya don' gotta stop on my account," he laughed at her flustered face, but didn't make to move away from her, which at least helped ease her concern that she'd offended him somehow.

"Sorry I just…" she started, fumbling over the words as she debated explaining herself. "…It's just rare…I don't touch many people if murder isn't involved."

There was a small pause before she felt Xan chuckle under her hands. "Da glamorous life of a rogue, eh?" he said. It wasn't really a question, more an agreement.

"Everyone thinks a spy's life is all about seducing your way into some plot or intrigue. Not sitting in the rafters for hours so you can grab a notebook or stab someone," Armesan agreed ruefully.

"Tell meh about it," the troll laughed easily, in a way that had her laughing along with him. It was that easy, relaxed sort of laughter one could only have with someone who really understood, and it was rather intoxicating. She usually didn't let her guard down like this. Not since…well not since Raphion. But she was older now.  She knew better.   And yet…she couldn’t seem to help herself.

It had been a harrowing experience, wading through ghosts of memories that would scream at her faults and dig at her insecurities, chipping away at her will until she would succumb and they could consume her soul.  When they had finally ceased, the relief was so intense she didn't even bother chastising herself for taking immense comfort in the presence of the troll at her side. 

"I ain't leavin' ya." He'd said.

Rogues by nature were loners, and in the grand scheme of things, most people did not trust them.  People were intimidated, or suspicious of everything a they would do.  Nothing was seen as anything but a con or a ploy to either find a mark or find information.  As such, they did not encourage a lot of camaraderie between them or others on the battlefield.  If someone was going to be left behind, it was a rogue.  To have Xan, a fellow rogue and a troll to boot, who was VERY aware of all these things, do the exact opposite and stay with her through the whole ordeal…it was rather bewildering. And appealing, knowing that perhaps she could trust him, even at her most vulnerable.

And yet…something was bothering her. Now that she was free of the corruption and had a moment of clarity to sort through the mess of events, there were a few things that weren't quite adding up.

That room had been FULL of necromancers. Vrykul, undead, casters, and one very nasty newly ascended Val'kyr. She had been incapacitated. Xan was alone against all of that, and yet somehow they were both still alive.

And now that she'd really looked, she realized he wasn't nearly as injured as he should be for how much damage his armor had taken. For one thing, his arm should be gone with how much damage that shoulder guard had taken. For another, there was very little blood on his armor, and while she knew trolls had regenerative abilities, she'd slain enough to know what lethal damage should look like. This should have been lethal, and his armor should have been more blood drenched than hers. Hells, he should even at least still have marks on his skin but he barely looked scratched.

How?

"Xan….what…" Armesan started, pausing uncertainly, but ultimately deciding that she needed to ask. Too many things were out of place with no explanation. "What happened back there? In the fortress."

There was a bit of a flinch, just enough to confirm Armesan's suspicions that he was hiding something. "Ya dun remembah?" he said simply, but she could feel him tensing up under her hands.

"I remember most of it, to a point. The information we had was wrong. This wasn't a gathering to muster their forces, it was to watch one of their commanders ascend. The Lich king...or some fraction of him at least, was there. It was bait. They’d expected someone to try and infiltrate. When the Val'kyr knocked me down they had their ritual chains ready. The Lich King said something strange…something about being eager to see the potential…but after he pointed Frostmourne at me and that stab wound, things get a bit foggy," she said carefully. "But I remember the screaming after that."

"Was a hell of a lot of screamin'," the troll chuckled, glancing over his shoulder, but Armesan noted that unlike before, he had turned on his blind side so she couldn't see his eye. She grimaced at the attempted dodge.

"The Val'kyr was screaming, Xan," she said bluntly, deciding to just get to the point and get it over with. "And it wasn't in anger. It was afraid."

There was a pause and heavy sigh from the troll in front of her, but at least he didn't try to hide it this time.

"What did you do?" Armesan clarified, testing to see if cornering him would get him to fess up or shut down.

They sat there in silence for a long time. Or perhaps it wasn't that long, Armesan couldn't quite say for certain, but when he did finally move, he leaned forward out from under her hands and studiously did not look at her.

Armesan couldn't really say she was surprised he withdrew rather than answer, but she was surprised that it hurt so much. It shouldn't have.

This is why she preferred to work alone. Everyone always has a line where secrets are more important than trust, where truth is too ugly or messy to handle. Working together…it blurs those lines, makes it easy to forget that little detail. Make it personal when it isn't. Armesan sighed and sat back after a moment and started fumbling with the latches on her own armor, trying not to twist too much lest she risk opening up the slice on her side again. She hissed a bit when she tried, the buckles being just too far out of reach for her to get without angering the wound.  

“I gotcha,” Xan’s voice rumbled quietly, and she felt his fingers flick open the latches and pry off the outer plates.  After a brief pause of surprise that he hadn't completely retreated after she'd pushed the issue of their escape, without really stopping to think about it, she relaxed, allowing the troll access to the rest of her armor, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. She mentally chided herself.

Maybe she was getting a little too comfortable with him.

Once out of her armor and down to just the tank top she wore underneath to keep from chafing, Armesan set to the task of bandaging the wound on her side and inspecting the armor to see what, if any, was salvageable. Xan had moved over and was rummaging through the packs, probably trying to find something that wasn't destroyed that he could wear in the interim until he could replace his own. They sat in silence like this for a good while, long enough that Armesan had gotten lost in the peaceful monotony of repairing her armor. It always helped her sort through her thoughts this way, look at things from all the angles, plan her approach. She always liked being three steps ahead of anything; if you weren't you were likely to end up dead. And she very much needed to sort through this mess in her head before she moved forward.

"Ya remember how ya phrased ya question when ya asked meh 'bout mah family?" Xan said suddenly, his voice like a crack of thunder through the silence of the cave and the clouds of Armesan's thoughts. The night elf jumped slightly out of sheer reflex, and silently thanked Elune that Xan hadn't been looking at her when she did.

"What?" she stammered, mind racing to recall what he was talking about.

"Last year, at Brewfest. Ya said 'What was it about us dat scared da Horde but made dem want us ta fight fo' 'em at da same time'," Xan clarified.

"Um…." Armesan rubbed her eyes and shook her head in an attempt to regain some composure. "Yeah, I suppose I did. I imagine it had something to do with Enoki being a berserker." She turned so she could see Xan properly. He'd found some half-decent chestpiece in his pack that more or less fit him and had apparently just been sitting back against the wall, staring at the fire thoughtfully.

There was what Armesan could only describe as a pensive look on Xan's face that quickly fell and just seemed tired and resigned before he said, "Enoki…wasn't da one dat scared 'em."

The night elf blinked and set down the half patched armor, scooting over to sit beside Xan. When she met his gaze, what barely passed for a sheepish grin attempted to cross his face but he just couldn't seem to keep up the facade, and just sighed. "I was."

Armesan's breath caught in her throat. "What?"

"I told ya my Ma was a Blooddrinker. Well, it got passed down ta me. Dat an'…somethin' else." Xan sighed, shifting his focus to the flickering firelight. "Most folks t'ink I'm just dat; annudah Blooddrinker, one of da ones dat gets a frenzy an’ a bit of a strength boost from it. An' if I'm careful dat's all dey see."

"And if you're not?"

The troll glanced over to Armesan, who simply returned the look, waiting patiently to see if he would continue. Eventually, he did.

"If I'm not, den dey see dat its strongah den dat. Lasts longah den it should. An' dat mah…gift…can mess wit spirits. Enslave 'em, bind 'em…consume 'em fo' powah if I have ta," he lifted a hand idly and just flexed his fingers, lips curling a bit in a self-depreciating snarl as he added, "Nothin' like havin' ya own Blood Lord Mandokir undah your command."

There was a sudden drop in the pit of her stomach.

"The Val'kyr. You…" Armesan trailed off, trying to find the right word to follow up with, but the pause earned a snort from Xan.

"Ate. Dat's da word ya lookin' fo'," he snickered, though there was a bitter tinge to the humor. "I ate 'er. Used 'er powah ta tear through dat room an' break da bindin's on ya befo' whatevah spell dey were workin' got finished."

The night elf was quiet for a moment, allowing that information to settle. More missing pieces moved themselves into place.

"It boosted your regeneration. That's why you were able to take them all and get us out by yourself." she said quietly. When Xan didn't bother to correct her, a sort of tense silence settled over them.

Armesan would only be partially lying if she said she wasn't slightly unnerved by the revelation. On the one hand, she'd been alive since Azshara was playing footsie with Magtheridon. Very little surprised her anymore. On the other…one of her closest friends just confessed to being a souleater. An extremely powerful one.

And on the third hand…he'd saved her.

In all her long years, no one had ever really saved her. Aided in combat, sure. Kept company, definitely. But deciding to risk life and limb not for the sake of a mission, but simply because she had been in danger?  He could have run once the mission turned sour. He could have done the merciful thing and killed her before she turned.  He could have kept his secrets. Instead he stayed. Instead he'd told her the truth…and he'd saved her without asking for anything in return.

This was a first.

"What was the price?"

Xan jumped a bit, clearly not expecting Armesan to have anything to say after his confession. "What was what?"

"The price," Armesan repeated. "For consuming a soul like that."

Xan sighed again.  “Besides riskin' healin' wrong? It’s less a price, an’ more a slope.  Da more ya do it, da slipperier it gets.  Ya burn ya own soul out aftah long enough, an' den dat's all ya exist fo'." That distant look returned briefly before it hardened into an angry glare at nothing. "An' I swore a long time ago dat I'd ratha be dead den turn inta anotha one like him."

"Then why?"

"I couldn't jus' leave ya dere. It just…was da only t'ing I could think of," Xan said with that same resigned tiredness in his voice from before. He glanced at the elf and grinned weakly, some meager attempt to bring levity back into the conversation. "What kinda friend would I be if I let ya die because I was afraid of a little voodoo?"

Armesan paused for a moment, taking note of the worry that his weak grin was trying desperately to hide. This scared him. She’d never seen him scared of anything before. Armesan decided to file that away for later and accepted the deflection for what it was, snorting with amusement and relaxing her posture as she leaned against Xan's shoulder much as she had the previous night. "Sounds like more than just 'a little voodoo'."

She could feel some of the apprehension leave the troll as he sighed and sat back, adjusting so he was more comfortable. Not all of it though, and she felt compelled to say something to ease the tension.

"I…" she began after a moment, not entirely sure how to phrase what she wanted to say without sounding ridiculous, but she tried anyway. "Thank you. Xan. For saving my life. For saving my soul."

The troll shifted to look down at her. "Ya ain't used ta dat are ya?"

"Would you believe me if I said I think that might be a first for me?" the night elf chuckled, shrugging helplessly.

"Befo' last night, probl'y not."

"My apologies. Normally I try not to burden others with my woes," she sighed, a small twinge of embarrassment at the recollection of how much of her baggage Xan had been exposed to in one night.

"Eh, we all got our sob stories," he shrugged, but then nudged her gently and smirked at her. "At least mine's shortah."

Armesan snorted and weakly elbowed him back in the ribs, earning a mock grunt. "Shorter, but scarier."

"An' yet…" the troll mused, a thoughtful look replacing the humor. "Ya still ain't runnin'."

Armesan didn't respond right away. It was a veiled question, if it even was a question. Maybe more a feeler set out to gauge where they stood now. She ran over the last few hours of revelations and realizations in her head, and despite not really having those clear three steps ahead in view, she let her hand fall heavily on his leg in a sort of reassuring pat and softly said, "I….don't have any reason to run."

This seemed to surprise Xan, but she felt the troll heave a heavy sigh of relief and before she realized it he had taken her hand and held it tight. "Den I guess we both be dealin' with firsts."

It was a simple, benign seeming gesture, but it surprised her none the less. It surprised her even more that she almost reflexively wove her fingers between his and he easily accepted, squeezing her hand back. Neither said anything for a moment, Armesan’s entire focus suddenly being on Xan’s hand holding hers before she finally managed to break the spell and change the topic.

"Our reports are going to have to be reeeeeeeeally fucked up to explain all this without mentioning what happened to that Val'kyr," Armesan said after a beat.

The laughter of agreement from the troll brought a genuine smile to her face that she forgot to hide, and suddenly the rest of the tension evaporated, as they started trying to hash out what exactly they were going to relay to their superiors.

She didn’t let go of his hand for awhile though.

---

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->