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Andorhal was uncomfortably warm at all times, oddly muggy and sitting at that "it's too warm" temperature. Not the best place for a couple of death knights to be stationed. Both Thassarian and Koltira were now built for the cold, one of the many changes that happened after their resurrections.

Koltira would've never liked this weather anyway, far more keen on the blanket-like warmth of Quel'thalas. Thassarian was more used to it, however, having grown up in Lorderon. Uncomfortable humid warmth was regular on the farm.

In their quiet moments, they barely touched each other, the humidity sticking their skin together. Rather, they would simply lie near each other, hands just barely brushing. It wasn't much, but it made them smile. They just had to wait it out, get back to Acherus. Maybe even Dalaran. The city was far emptier now that Arthas had fallen. Thassarian smiled softly, thinking about being able to escape, not having to fight each other.

.

.

Koltira was gone.

The battle ended.

And he was gone.

Thassarian paced nervously behind the dilapidated barn, where the two would usually meet. For a moment Thassarian had thought that Koltira had simply gotten caught up in his work, there had been a few times that either one had been late meeting up. But never this late.

His mind flashed through a conversation they'd had. Koltira saying something about some of the Deathguards giving him odd looks. Had they caught on? Oh. Oh, Light, what if they had? Sylvanas wasn't really a benevolent person, not anymore. Thassarian doubted that Koltira having been a ranger before could save him, nothing from her past mattered to her anymore.

.

.

Thassarian had gotten confirmation from a few other horde Death Knights. Koltira had been caught by Sylvanas, though it didn't seem she understood the true nature of their relationship.

.

.

He knew where Koltira was. And he couldn't do anything to help. He couldn't just march into the Undercity to rescue the elf. No one responded to his pleas. Not even Bloodhoof, who, alright, maybe he couldn't have done much, but Thassarian couldn't- he couldn't just stand by as Sylvanas did Light-knows-what to Koltira.

But what else could he do?

He was still only one person, and even if the Ebon Blade helped, it would sever ties between them and the Forsaken. Surely several Horde knights would be displeased about it, even if it was one of their own men down there.

He had to wait.

It felt more and more like abandonment, betrayal, but he couldn't do anything more. Not yet.

.

.

Koltira leaned against the bars of his cage. Bruises littering his skin, somehow even paler than before. His hair was knotted, clear that Koltira tried to keep it tame, tried to hold on where he could.

He blinked up at Thassarian, eyes not quite seeing him.

"Thass?"

His voice was quiet, raspy, and so small. It hurt a little bit, even the commanding, elegant voice had been taken from Koltira.

"Ye- yeah, it's me." Thassarian took in a shuddering breath, helping Koltira up, "It's me."

Shaky arms wrapped around his torso, and Koltira hummed, "Missed you."

Gingerly, Thassarian wound his arms around the frail elf, just barely cradling the back of Koltira's head. "I missed you, so much my dear, but it's alright, we're going back. It's ok."