Chapter Text
The sunset was stunning, Cail noted, as it had been every one of the last twelve days that he and Zonya had been making a kind of holiday of their time at the remote, but superbly well-appointed summer home, tucked neatly away high up the Mulgore mountainside. He’d never been a great fan of Kalimdor, preferring his mansion in Quel’Danas, but even he had to admit the retreat was lovely; almost as lovely as the company, who he spied leaving the decidedly non-traditional building, and heading his way.
He grinned at her as she sauntered over, making no effort to hide his gaze as he looked her over - they’d spent most of their time here exploring each other’s bodies, but it looked like Zonya had something else in mind.
“We’re about to have a visitor,” she declared. Cail didn’t bother asking how she knew - she was a Bronze dragon after all, though she preferred to appear as a fellow Blood Elf - and he’d gotten used to her special brand of precognizance. “Cail, I’m sorry.”
He peered up at her from his sunchair. “Sorry for what?”
Zonya looked like she was going to answer, but a bright green swirl appeared beside her, the edge bordered with twisting vines, and through the portal stepped, Cail had to admit, a very attractive Night Elf. Well, if she were actually a Night Elf, and not a Green dragon, he would eat his finely tailored hat.
The green face paint, green clothing, and green magic had given it away. And after his time with Zonya, he had started to pick up on a certain sense of presence when a dragon was about.
The new arrival glanced about, her eyes locking into Zonya before she sighed in relief. “Zonya, thank Ysera. We have to t-talk…” She trailed off, having noticed Cail in his very brief shorts, offering a briefer wave of his hand.
Zonya gave him a fond, exasperated look, and turned to the newcomer. “Ylora, it’s been too long. What brings you to visit us, all the way out here?”
Ylora gave Cail a long, appraising stare, which he bore with wilful irreverence, before she turned to Zonya. “You know what happened. You cannot possibly have missed it.”
“Missed what? I’m Cail, by the way,” he butted in. “Did something happen, Zonya?” He asked pointedly. “While we were out here, far away from everyone? On a holiday that was your idea?”
“Cail,” Zonya began, weary. “There was nothing to be done. Not by either of us, at any rate.”
Cail looked at them both, the gravity of the occasion penetrating his good mood. Ylora was shaking, and looking closer, there were tears streaking her cheek - the Green was barely holding it together, by his new estimation. And Zonya seemed heartbroken, once he looked for it.
“What happened?” He asked softly.
Ylora shuddered. “They burned down Teldrassil,” she answered, and then collapsed into loud, wracking sobbing.
Zonya quickly reached out for her sister dragon, and hugged her in comfort as she turned to Cail to explain. “Your Warchief has launched her war against the Alliance. She brought her forces through Darkshore to the coast of Auberdine, and… brought Teldrassil to the flame. Very few survived. A few thousand.” Ylora wailed again, and Zonya pulled tight around her.
Cail stared at her for a long moment. True, the Night Elves were Alliance, nominally the enemy, and they were an arrogant, boorish lot to deal with at the best of times, but… well, Sin’dorei was more of a political distinction, and Quel’dorei and Kaldorei weren’t much more different in the end. Skirmishes and battles were one thing, but Teldrassil was their home, much as Silvermoon City had been his, and when the scourge brought Eversong to the sword…
Oh, Sun, he thought, their homes, their children. A few thousand, Zonya had said. So, this was genocide, then. The end of a people. He took a steadying breath, got up from his chair onto unsteady feet. “I’m sorry,” he said, feeling the words entirely inadequate. “I didn’t know.”
Zonya shook her head. “I kept you here, distracted. You couldn’t have known.” She pulled back from the Green, whispered something Cail couldn’t catch, and Ylora nodded, glancing at Cail.
“I… have a plan. It is dangerous and tricky, but it is necessary.” She swallowed nervously. “I know how was can resolve this. Fix this.”
Zonya raised an eyebrow. “You know what Nozdormu would say about any plan involving tampering with the timeline.”
Ylora nodded. “That is why I am asking you, noted intransigent, rebellious daughter of the Bronze, shacked up with a mortal, instead of petitioning the Lord of Time.” She ventured a small smile, itself a reminder of better times. On her, it looked like the birth of spring.
Zonya let herself return the grin, and gestured to Ylora and Cail both. “Come inside, the two of you, and we’ll discuss it.”