No one will ever know what it means to bid farewell to a home you can never return to—only Maiev Shadowsong maintains that burden.

---

Maiev Shadowsong

Hiraeth

by a.f. swanson

—a short story—

***

Maiev—an exclusively feminine name with meanings such as diligent and tenacious.

And indeed, as much as her tenacity, Maiev had always been known for her diligence. Even as a youth, she possessed an unshakeable inability to let sleeping dogs lie when there was work to be done. And if there was no work to be done, she would find some.

Many others found managing this dedication an exhausting task which, in a way, she could understand. Though not truly from a place of empathy, as Maiev lived by the belief that those without resolve who would only wait for the world to come to them were doomed to fatigue under the most meager amounts of effort.

Despite her insecurities—or perhaps, because of them—Maiev believed herself to be above everyone else. Always the most clever of strategists, the most faithful of zealots, and of course, the most fierce of warriors. In a world of cowards, she would always stand her ground, even in the face of death, and strike without hesitation.

“Courage feels like fear,” her mother had once said, and never a day in all the centuries without her could Maiev forget the sound of her voice.

In her youth, her father had said Maiev’s hubris would be her downfall someday. The injuries from hunting a beast far greater than she should’ve taken would leave him overwhelmed with terror. He would scold Maiev, attributing her recklessness to her late-mother. Yet, he still tended to her wounds, knowing that Maiev would always return to the hunt before her bruises had even the chance to fade, and nothing he said could stop her.

Though, on the day of her coming-of-age ceremony in which she would choose her ancestral markings, her father ushered one final warning. “My daughter,” he’d said, “when you come at the world with rage, know that the world may someday come for you too.”

And on that day, Maiev chose the blades, for if the world were to come for her, she would not surrender without a fight.

Then he died as well, leaving Maiev alone to care for her beloved brother. It was she that would provide for him; clothed, and fed, and never a day without.

Admittedly, Maiev had always been tough on him, unable to express affection in traditional ways. When he said he desired to enlist in Suramar’s Guard, Maiev pushed back her move to Hajiri in order to train him herself. To Maiev, it was her duty to ensure her dear baby brother had been set up for success in his service. So she pushed him as hard as one could, training him as though she were captain of the Guard herself. And Maiev knew Jarod struggled, but she could not fail him by going soft.

Only when Jarod had enlisted did Maiev depart for her studies in Hajiri where they would be apart for the next few centuries. After she felt she’d learned all there was in the place the late-Kalo’thera ascended to high priestess, Maiev decided it was time she returned to Suramar, finally worthy enough to study under the current high priestess, Dejahna, herself.

But more than that, she missed her brother, and wished to be near him once again.

Though, it seemed as if Jarod had been content to maintain their distance, neglecting to visit her at the Temple of Elune during her service. She would never admit it to anyone aside from Elune herself, but his avoidance truly ripped her soul apart. Through the entirety of her life, anyone Maiev held dear never could reciprocate her devotion, and she knew she only had herself to blame. Love was a risk, but never a risk she was willing to take.

A warden of her own heart.

However, it didn’t matter if Jarod cared for her the way she did him. It wasn’t his duty to love her, but it was hers to protect him. He was her little brother, and she would dedicate the rest of her now immortal life to looking after him. Even if he wished she would look elsewhere.

And that’s why she was here, standing before a council as they decided upon the fate of one Illidan Stormrage.

Her knuckles were white as they violently gripped the hilt of Umbra’s Crescent to temper her wrath, countenance full only of resolve. She could not convince the council to sentence the Betrayer to a clean death, and so, Maiev would do the only other thing she could do.

“Maiev…” Jarod uttered so quietly, it pierced her steely heart. “Do you know what you’re offering?”

“Yes.” It was a firm response—unwavering and without hesitation. She did, however, avoid Jarod’s gaze, fixing those sharp eyes onto Malfurion Stormrage. “If this is the justice you have chosen, then I will give my life to ensure it is upheld.”

Malfurion stroked his beard, his eyes moving between Illidan, still ensnared in branches, and Maiev. “And how do we know you won’t kill him? You are the one who called for his death, are you not?”

“I may be brash, but stupid, I am not,” Maiev stated bluntly, before repeating herself. “If this is the justice you have chosen, then I will give my life to ensure it is upheld, Shan’do.”

“No,” Jarod interjected, “you can’t do this, Maiev. I won’t allow it.”

Maiev’s eyes flashed with a silver rage as she spat, “You do not tell me what I can or cannot do, little brother! Do not believe because you played commander during a single war that you can order me to do anything!” It was harsh—cruel—but it had to be done. If there were ever a time for her brother to retreat from her and steel his heart, it would be now.

There was nothing as cruel as losing a sister.

Still, the sting of tears sat behind her eyes, threatening to spill over the blades etched into her cheeks. And for the life of her, she could no longer look at him as he winced in the face of her severity. “Illidan Stormrage is far too dangerous to be left alone,” she positioned, commanding the room as she did. “We can all agree upon this.” 

Maiev turned to Illidan then, using her moonblade to lift his defiant chin. His unsmiling mouth was gagged with leaves, the apple of his throat bobbing uncomfortably as the blade grazed over his ruddy purple flesh. His once amber eyes had now been consumed by the glow of green corruption, but even still, Maiev could feel the vehemence in his gaze.

To think, she once beheld a deity in his image, spending decades memorizing the subtle aspects of his countenance. The sly grin, the muscles in his jaw, and the way his fingers stroked the very chin she now tempted with her blade. Maiev’s feelings of warmth had persisted despite Illidan representing a future she’d been denied long before he betrayed everything she stood for. But now, contempt had finally taken root; now, all she could see was her home consumed in felfire, whittled to ash, and her brother’s face gone pale.

Maiev narrowed her gaze upon the Betrayer, grimacing at his demonic tattoos before pouring her hatred into his own. “And what better warden than I—the only kaldorei amongst you—with the resolve to be the blade of justice?”

At that very moment, a silver light shone upon the blade of Umbra’s Crescent. With a smirk, Maiev spun to face the rest of the council. “Even the Moon Goddess herself wills it,” she declared. “If I am to live an immortal life, then let it be as jailer of the wicked below the salt of the earth—within the bowels of hell.”

There was a pregnant pause, but not a single protest was made once it came to an end.

“Very well. I will take the liberty of creating his prison within the Barrow Deeps,” Malfurion declared. “Much is to be taken into consideration, so we will proceed at once.” The druid looked to Maiev. “Make your arrangements, warden. Your duty begins now.”

Maiev nodded, spinning around to find her companion, Naisha, who would assist her. Instead, however, she fell into Jarod’s path as he looked upon her with sorrow. “Not now, brother,” she tried to deflect, “I have much to do, and it seems little time to do it.” She moved past him, chin held high to disguise her own grief.

“And if you perish, Maiev?”

It was then that Maiev Shadowsong, with all that fire coursing through her recalcitrant veins, froze in place. All the emotion she’d been burying began to build within her belly, forcing itself up into the base of her throat. Her body shook, though she willed it not to, and it was a long while before she could finally respond. “Then to perish is my fate.”

“But I would never see you again,” he murmured. “Does that not give you pause, sister?”

Those tears lying in wait behind her eyes, they began to burn as they went unspilled. If she wished to keep them unshed, then she couldn’t look at him. She wouldn’t allow him a glance at such an aggrieved expression upon her face. “Do you not understand, Jarod? The atrocities of the Burning Legion must never again come to pass, and Illidan Stormrage is the effigy of such tragedy. Someone must protect Azeroth from his corruption, and only I can do so.” She moved to leave, but something held her in place.

“If ever you doubt my duty to you, little brother, remember…” Maiev took a ragged breath. “You will bury me long before I bury you.”

As she listened to her brother weep behind her, a traitorous tear slipped down over her cheek. But as quickly as it had spilled, it disappeared with the flick of a single, contrite finger. Maiev willed herself forward, away from her brother’s grief and onto the path of her destiny.

***

Disclaimer 

I do not own World of Warcraft or any of its associated characters or properties. This is a work of fanfiction created for entertainment purposes only, and no profit is being made. All rights belong to Blizzard Entertainment.