#And neither is/pretends to be unsettled enough to risk the portal again

[mostly-vo1d]

Wait I have a steo wild hunt au that still gives us the why wouldn't I remember Stiles scene. Time travel.

Everything goes exactly as planned, the pack remembers and gets back Stiles. Stiles and Theo somehow end up fighting together when one of the riders gets both of them at the same time. But because magic is funny like that (read: whatever the dread doctors/the nogitsune did to them turns the hunt's train station dimension into wibbly wobbly timey wimey nonsense) they end up both alive 3 months earlier.

And promptly get taken separately by the wild hunt again.

So we not only get both of them being forgotten, we also get Theo being the one telling Stiles he was the only one who really remembered him.

[pitiflame-archived]

Drabble for @gellintalah bc neither of us have a soul. I hope this is alright adgkg Under the cut for length and totally not bc there’s a murder

Their relationship had to solely be kept behind closed doors. For both of their safeties, neither could publicly come forward with their feelings for the other. It was a hell they had to endure alone. The two tempted fate each time they found themselves together in public, trying so hard to resist the urge to touch the other. Even brushing their shoulders seemed too intimate a moment for the rogue and Grand Magister to share.

Rommath hated it. He hated the secrecy. He hates having to step carefully around her while others were around for fear of their relationship being found out. If their secret was discovered, it would be disastrous for the both of them. BOTH would be labeled a traitor. For Rommath, he could very well lose his position as Grand Magister. After how much work and dedication he had put into the title and ranking, it would be devastating to lose it.

Despite his paranoia around his and Nanthis’s relationship, he felt they had done a rather good job of hiding themselves from the public eye. When they wanted their solidarity with the other, it was no problem for either of them to take a quick portal to her garrison back in Draenor. Still, those moments spent there seemed too short just to go back to pretending they hate each other for factions sake.

Of course no matter how careful and precise they were, as fate would have it, there would come a day where the two starcrossed elves were inevitably found out. What neither could have predicted was the severity of their punishment for their “crimes”. It wasn't long after the announcement was made by Sylvanas to send troops to aid her in Ashenvale then up into Darkshore.

Rommath had explicitly spoke against her wishes though ultimately Lor’themar had to obey her command. The Regent Lord shared much the same opinion with the Grand Magister though he had no other option. At the risk of Sylvanas turning her back on the lands she once protected and called home should the Alliance make it this far north, he couldn't afford to run the risk.

Reluctantly, what numbers they could spare were sent to the warband that would assist High Warlord Saurfang in the March across Ashenvale. Through the entire debate, Rommath’s thoughts drifted to Nanthis. At this very moment she could very well be joining the other Kaldorei in the defense of their homelands. She could very well be walking to her death.

The thought made his stomach lurch heavily and he had to excuse himself for fear of his breakfast making an unsightly reappearance. The thoughts swirling his mind all resulted with her being hurt, maimed, or Light forbid anything worse. He had to see her, had to make sure she was alright..

He had to.

He couldn't.

He had to.

But what if-

No. The only way his mind would be eased was to make sure Nanthis wouldn't be joining those bodies that would soon line the shores of Teldrassil. While not directly able to go to her at the moment, as fate would have it, he got his answer soon enough. He himself had been summoned by Sylvanas herself to which his fears only grew stronger, knotting his stomach and feeling as if his heart would stop at any given moment.

She had recently returned from Darkshore. There were tears in the fabric of her armor. Scuffed and bloodied pieces of plate adorned her. Despite her disheveled look, the Banshee Queen looked same as ever. Glaring cold, expression unreadable, she sat with one leg lazily thrown over the other as she tapped impatiently for the Grand Magister’s appearance. Over all of this, she was covered head to toe in soot and ash. He desperately wanted to question what she’s done to be in such a state but for fear of the answer, as well as not wanting to irritate her further, kept his thoughts to himself. Instead, she was met with his own icy glare.

Before Sylvanas was Nanthis. Her arms were bound by thick ropes behind her back, more binding her legs together, and her mask had been stuffed into her mouth to keep her quiet. The furiously murderous glint in her eyes spoke enough for her, though. It took all of Rommath’s self control not to go to her, his first instincts being to comfort her. But with the eyes of their Warchief as well as the entourage that circled her within her chambers deep in the Undercity, he could not. As badly as he wanted to, he resisted.

Internally, he was reeling. His mind screamed, the fire he controlled so easily pushing against his entire being, desperate to be released and end whatever Sylvanas had planned for Nanthis and himself. But Rommath externally kept his cool the only way he knew how. A feigned disinterested look to Nanthis followed by a cocked brow to the Warchief, Rommath sighed in a feigned boredom.

“I do hope you haven’t called me here to waste my time, Lady Windrunner. What matter of business do you have with me?” He spoke.

Sylvanas simply narrowed her eyes in contemplation as she leaned forward, motioning with a gloved hand to Nanthis. “I believe you’ve left your mess lying around, Grand Magister.”

“Forgive me but I’ve no idea what you’re speaking of.” Rommath replied.

Now it was her turn to raise a brow to him, though hers had been accompanied by a disbelieving smirk. “Oh but I do think you know exactly what I mean.” Sylvanas said in a tone that was way too sweet for the otherwise bloodthirsty Warchief. It was unsettling to Rommath.

“I’m afraid I do not.” He rolled his eyes softly and tapped his foot impatiently. “I must insist, My Lady, if you only called me here on false allegations of whatever this ‘mess’ may be, I do have better things to attend to than red herrings. As I’m sure you do as well.”

The Banshee Queen shrugged her shoulders, leaning back once more. With a nonchalant wave of her hand towards Nathanos, her ever loyal hound it would seem even in death, the human drew a dagger from underneath his cloak. In a swift motion, he had grabbed Nanthis and pressed the dagger to her throat. Watching this, Rommath’s breath caught in his throat and the grip on his staff strengthened to the point he was almost white knuckled.

“So you’ve no idea who this Kaldorei is?” Sylvanas asked him.

Rommath shook his head, more to keep himself from sparing a glance at Nanthis and having the facade shatter. “Not at all, Warchief.”

Sylvanas’s gaze bore into him, as if she could peer into his very thoughts. Rommath felt a chill go up his spine at the intensity of her gaze but held his ground, matching her glare with his own. “Then so be it. Perhaps you were right and this was simply a red herring. But what’s one more bloodstain on the carpet, I suppose. Nathaos, dispose of this wretch. I can almost feel the poison in her eyes as much as I can see it now.”

“Wait-” Rommath said hastily. Too hastily. Nathanos still held the blade to Nanthis’s throat, a fine trickle of blood oozing steadily out where the tip dug into her skin though he had stilled his hand at the Grand Magister’s outburst. He was panicking. He could feel it. Perhaps he could still silver tongue his way out of this, as he had done most of his life in sticky situations. At least get her out of this.

“Well? What is it? If you’ve no knowledge of this girl, let her die quickly so she may join her loved ones with those that hadn’t been as fortunate to escape that unsightly tree.” Sylvanas said. Nanthis whipped her head to the Banshee Queen, growling at her. This seemed to amuse the Warchief, as she used a taloned finger to drag across her cheek. The action was slow and left a scratch where the claw had been, the first droplets of blood dripping from the wound as she continued.

Rommath took a breath to steady himself, the bottom of his staff ringing loudly throughout the throne room as he banged it on the ground. “What manner of crime has she committed that it’s punishable by death?”

Sylvanas smirked again towards the Grand Magister. “And why do you care so much, Grand Magister? I’ve always thought you the one to care little about our Alliance counterparts. What’s one more of their worthless lives ended so that we may prosper in their place?”

“I can accept it when it’s those that deserve it. Not defenseless innocent civilians. That marks the line between outright hatred and justifiable war, I think.”

Something sparked behind the Banshee Queen’s expression though Rommath wasn’t sure what exactly the emotion had been. Frowning, she continued. “You’ve no idea what’s justifiable and what’s hated. You, of all people, who have lived the luxurious life behind your golden walls and high spires. You have no idea what true war is. Petty battles, perhaps, I’m more than aware of your assistance in Suramar. Before that, the Isle of Thunder. But war is far more aggressive. Far more bloody. We kill the enemy before they have a chance to kill us.”

“She’s innocent.”

“And how do you know this, Grand Magister?” Her tone was becoming increasingly annoyed. “How do you know she hasn’t singlehandedly taken out an entire squad of our own? She could have been responsible for a great number of deaths and yet you call her innocent.”

“I..” Rommath started. Truthfully, he knew Nanthis enough that she was far from the most innocent being. She had likely not gone down without a fight. Not easily at all. He wondered just how many it had taken to subdue her. “I suppose you’re right. I’ve no proof whether she truly is or not.” He sounded defeated much to his chagrin.

“You claim you don’t know her and yet you defended her.” Came the smug voice of Nathanos, still at Nanthis’s throat. “Could be a bit more obvious, Grand Magister.”

He shot Blightcaller a cold look. “I insist, I don’t know her. I was merely speculating that she’s done nothing to warrant being gutted on the ground like some animal is all. Despite whatever war crimes you may think of her, she doesn’t deserve to be treated like some mongrel lesser being.”

Nathanos just nodded his head, a sly expression tinting his face. In another swift motion he had lowered the blade though this time it was to dig into the Kaldorei’s shoulder, cutting from shoulder to collar bone. Scarlet gushed over the rogue’s clothes and she hissed around the mouthful of cloth. Rommath tensed again, this time his fingers twitched as his magic had been brought forth. Small sparks escaped his fingertips and a curse flew from under his breath.

They were doing this on purpose. Backing him into a corner and turning his words around on him so he’ll admit his knowledge of Nanthis before them. They know. How the hell did they know?! All his fears were manifesting as Nathanos once again brought the dagger to her flesh, this time from between her collar bones down to the center of her sternum. Nanthis threw her head backwards and there was a crack as her skull met the undead human’s nose.

“Fucking bitch!” He growled out. She was shoved to the ground before Nathanos dived on top of her. He brought the dagger back down into her chest into her ribcage opposite to where her heart would be. Rommath’s own heartbeat could be heard pounding in his ears as he watched the scene unfold. To at least keep somewhat of the illusion that he doesn’t care about this supposed mysterious woman, he shifted his weight from foot to foot as if he were growing impatient.

“Are we done here?” The words were forced out but at least his tone remained steady. Completely opposite to the swirling storm he could feel rising inside of him.

“Ah? If your words ring true and it’s correct you’ve no feelings for this woman, it shouldn’t bug you to witness her end.” Sylvanas said overly sweetly again.

They knew exactly what they were doing. Purposely trying to rile up Rommath to get him to explicitly state he was involved with this woman and out him as a traitor of the Horde and his own people because of it. As much as it shattered him to do so, to bear witness to this gruesome display, they would not break him more than they had already. His heart screamed out for Nanthis but, same as it had always been, he could do nothing but watch her writhe on the ground.

Nathanos had caught her cheek again, a long bloody scratch just barely missing an eye all the way down to her chin. With a last roar from the human, he dug the blade deep into Nanthis’s stomach. With no way to defend herself, she could do nothing but attempt to buck up and headbutt him again though the action just twisted the blade deeper into her gut. He twisted and pulled repeatedly, completely eviscerating her innards, until she was no longer moving. Rommath couldn’t breath. He stared forlornly at the Kaldorei’s body, finally daring a glance to her and whatever remained of his heart evaporated then. Her final expression was teary eyed and full of pain, looking directly to him. Blood poured from her nose, her mouth, the countless wounds across her body.

And he had done nothing to stop it.

“Are we done here?” He repeated. The words were flat. Without meaning. Devoid of emotion.

Sylvanas glared him up and down again, watching for some reaction or some twitch from the Grand Magister but he would give none. They had taken the one person he cared for most in this world. They wouldn’t have the satisfaction of seeing him grieve either.

“So be it. Dismissed, Grand Magister.”

He didn’t waste time with a courtesy or farewell. The sooner he got as far away from Sylvanas and Nathanos, away from Nanthis’s corpse, the better. A portal later had sent him back to Silvermoon, to the confines of his own home. The portal closed behind him and Rommath took in a deep, deep breath as his staff fell to the floor. It had barely hit the floor when the tears came to him, causing the Grand Magister to send every object on the desk nearest him shattering against the floor. Soon, he too, would join these objects. Broken, on his knees as he gasped for breath around the sobs that wracked him to his core.