Aestiah,

Do you not think this little storm of yours has gone on long enough? I do not want little to do between the quarrels with your friends nor do I think I should suffer for it by not seeing my own granddaughter. Your hot headed manners is no longer needed. I think this has gone on far enough, don’t you? Think about what you are doing and get back to me…

The letter was quickly crumbled into a ball and tossed freely over her shoulder. It bounced against the wall and rolled slightly back, enough for the smaller one to take notice and pick it up from where it was thrown.

“What’s this?” Asked Lyraela quietly.

Aestiah glanced over her shoulder and mentally cursed herself for missing the fireplace by just mere inches. Her aim has been rather poor since giving up the bow. “Just some business. Nothing that needs concern.”

The letter was reopened and eyes that understood so little was only able to make out a few of the words on the crumpled sheet. “Is it from Grandpa?” She asked quickly after recognizing the V at the bottom.

“Probably.”

“Does it mean he’s coming?”

Aestiah frowned. “I wouldn’t bet on it.”

Disappointment was such an understatement as tiny ears began to wilt. The wrinkled letter was tossed aside so that her attention could return to one of her many dolls centered around her on the floor. But even as she began her imaginary play, the topic refused to die down with the small offspring. “We should go and see him! Say hi! A pirate Captain needs friends, too!”

Aestiah gave a shrug in reply and returned to studying the documents spread across the table. The guild crest of The Rising Sun was stamped on every one.  Ever since she received word from the head commander about his potential return to his position and leave from early retirement, the letters from other once members flew from every direction across the globe. Some showed interest, others merely curious. For Aestiah, it was reason to delve deeper and perhaps even indulge on the idea herself. While her own retirement has been fruitful, the call of battle was still there.

“And maybe we could even bake him some cookies!”

“Huh?” Eyes lifted from the documents to see that her daughter had planted herself in the seat opposite of the table. Every word that was uttered from her was drowned out until now. “Oh hun, not now. Mother has a few things she has to go over. Why don’t you … go play with the chickens outside, hm?”

“Did you hear me at all?” asked Lyraela with a disappointed frown.

“Yes, yes. You want to do something special for Grandpa! I’ll give it some thought later. But right now, Mommy has business. Very important business.” Aestiah explained with a reassuring grin. Yet it was met with a sour frown and the angry footsteps of a child leaving for the stairs. Aestiah sighed and waited until the angry stomping ceased before returning to her work. Just another tantrum and nothing more, she’s lived with her long enough to know it would pass by dinner or the morning sun.

“She won’t listen, Lucy!” Lyraela vented to the doll in her arms. “Mommy never listens to us! What are we going to do?”

The doll was nothing more than a plush with blonde hair and green eyes to signify its Sindorei roots. But as the dark-raven girl looked to it for advice, it did nothing more than stare back with a perpetual smile. Slowly the frown on Lyraela’s lips began to curve into an upward smile. The answer was so simple.

“Yes, yes you’re right! We should go look for him!”

After all, her mother had once told her the story of her she searched for him when she was young long ago. So why not relive the tale and make her mother proud. Quickly the girl dashed into her bedroom and began to gather a few belongings she treasured most. Yes, she was going to heed her mother’s advice and play with the chickens as suggested. It was the perfect excuse for venturing outside without stirring too much concern. It was so simple even if she didn’t have a clue where to look. All she needed was to question the right people and maybe, just maybe, her Grandfather would scoop her up and take her away on the ship. Just like her mother! Just like the stories!

“We have to stick together, Lucy! By tomorrow, we’re going to be pirates!”

 ——

He never expected a letter from her, especially one of such urgency. Hesitant at first to read the spew of slurs on the parchment sent by bird, he eventually gave in to curiosity and ripped the seal to see what words she had to share. But he never expected to read his granddaughter’s name as being the first line in the introduction. And what was worse, he never imagined being so stunned by the words ‘missing’ seen at the end.

“I don’t know what to do. I am more than positive she went out in search of you! Please help!

It was what he wanted, an end to the long grudge. But the price for it he did not expect at all…

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Practiced for years without fail or missing a day, a ritual he remained committed to and not a single soul knew. The ruins of Silvermoon were a history treasured or forgotten. Temples, pillars, and walls that stood proud now crumbled with erosion, just a memory and nothing more. But despite the lurking dangers of those who lost themselves to the addiction, it served as a place of remembrance of what was lost—they will never fall again. It was here that a certain Captain wandered amidst the damage and down the roads he once knew all too well.

He knew the little shop where the best bread was baked and the winery where he often picked up his favorite for dinners and trips. It was all there, all mapped out and seen like it once was. His imagination took him there since visually it was impossible. This was a reoccurring thing for him and had been for quite some time. During the early rise of dawn he slipped through the cracks and crevices of the ruins to enter what once was the estate of a highly favored family. Pristine floors were no longer pristine, and the statues and awards of their great deeds were burned and wiped clean from the walls.

His boots echoed the empty halls and alerted no one save the pests and the birds. Despite the fact that most of the rooms had been left to shambles, some were reserved enough for suitable exploration and more. But this path had been treaded before, a thousand times even, and he knew precisely where to go. Duck, crawl, inch between the walls, it was only a bit of work to get to that one room he treasured the most.

And there it stood.

Its haven may have been an utter and complete mess these past hundred years, but the piano still kept its luster if not for a few nicks, scratches, and dents. The bench was dusted with a wipe of his hand before allowing himself to sit and adjust. A moment of silence was given as his fingers hovered over the first key. Hesitation to play that last only for a second and finally came that first note, the beginning of her melody. The notes were a little off due to the erosion and rot of some of the bass strings. Some never played a single sound while others gave a much different tone that threw things of completely. His age was showing through the work of his fingers. Youth allowed quick flow while his age slowed that progress.

He still remembered the notes. It was impossible to forget the song of morning. The song of promise…

 

That tune flowed through the room and brought the overly lavish hall to life without a single need for light. It moved her and made her spin in the middle of the floor. 

“I love it! Did you write it for me?” she asked enthusiastically and did not wait a second to let me answer without giving a kiss. It was a welcomed one, her lips were lush and warm against my own. And when she pulled back I only dived in for one more.

“I did. Do you like it?” I asked with a grin. She kept me smiling, it was impossible not to.

Callisto just laughed and gave a vigorous nod of approval. “It speaks to me, it really does. You always had such a creative talent for doing that without words at all!”

“The song is yours, my love.” I stated with a smile.

“Will you play it again for me? I never want to stop hearing it!”

“As you wish! You will always hear it. I will never stop playing it… not until my dying breath.”

She laughed when I said that. Dramatic, she called me. But I meant every word of it, I’m not sure if she knew. Because you see that song never stopped. Each and every morning right at the same time, the song was played. Risky though it was to slip in unannounced, it was a risk worth taking just to see her smile and listen with content.  

“This is my song.” She once told me one morning when I played.

“And always will be.”

There were mornings I played it while she slept, a gentle way to rouse her awake without causing too much stress. Even after a night of arguing, I always returned that morning to play. She’d always sit and glare at me but never once demanded me to leave. Perhaps it was my own way of showing apology. In the later months when she announced her pregnancy, the song became a morning lullaby for our little one in her womb. I spoke of teaching him or her to play the piano and teaching this song so that when I got too old to play then our offspring will do it in my place.

Life will always live in this hall so as long as I have her and my music.

What makes a man walk miles through the ruins of Silvermoon without care of the dangers within just to find what once was considered home for someone hundreds of years ago? To slip through unnoticed by the guards and find reason to travel on foot alone just to venture into a crumbling hall and sit on a piano that was falling apart? To play the keys of a treasured melody written by the heart and do so at the very crack at dawn? Despite his notorious reputation and the life he mapped out for himself after that day, it was his own way of reliving life the ‘true’ way. The one he was meant to live, to share with would be wife and kid. To keep to a promise he made in this very room.

At long last that soft melody ended. The last key hit heavily so that it echoed its way throughout the room until finally silence. For those fleeting minutes the room had came alive if only for a short while. It never lasted. It never did. Once a youthful face filled with life now sat an aged face flat and cold as sin. Gone was the charm and elegantly ruffled shirts tailored to his needs, completely unrecognizable if anyone knew him … and that’s how he wanted it to be.

He could sometimes hear her… hear them. They still lived here, he knew. Her voice was still as sweet as her laughter and it made his heart shred when her voice whispered the words held in memory.

“This is my song…”

Hair of gold, eyes of blue. A smile to melt a heart and an infectious laugh that grabbed and made others join with her. He never understood why she favored the perfume that reminded him of the sea. That scent lingered even now, either that or it was coming off of him. Maybe it was that very scent alone that made him run to it for all these years … maybe. Maybe.

“Will you play it again for me…?”

There was no escaping that voice. Call it delusional, a memory, or simply her presence. It made his eyes close to hold back the pain of knowing no matter what she was not here. There was only one response to a request like that one. One he heard many times before and he gave into whenever asked. Thalassian was not his choice language, not since he picked up a thing or two with Common in early years and later that ruggedness of Orish. But for her he’d relive it and speak the slvete tongue just for her. Just for her to know he could hear her … that he was here.

“As you wish…”

 

 

I will never stop playing it. Not until my dying breath…

The room was damp and more than just a little drafty, unfit for anyone to stay. But somehow the tavern in Booty Bay still maintained business despite all the damage from the Shattering well over a year ago. Repairs were slow and the men rebuilding even slower. Yet such inconveniences mattered little to those who were exhausted enough to ignore it, especially those without dwellings of their own. The smooth clack of metal boots weaseled its way through the mess of one particular room. The door was partially cracked open since the guest of said room was wedged in between passed out drunk and without a care in the world. Vaelrin’s attempt to retire to his room ended with him only making it part of the way there. Close enough but certainly no cigar, yet this mattered little to the drunk and the dumb.

“Damn elf…” muttered a gruff voice followed with the sound of clinking glass as he feet swept away the trash. Eventually his attention turned to the fallen at the door. “BLACK JACK, you ol’ beast, get yer ass up!” he bellowed with a swift kick to the Captain’s back. Vaelrin groaned and rolled slowly over the wooden-planked floor, his response nothing more than a grunt and a cough. Slurred words that hardly made much sense left his lips.

“I see time has done ye sum bit of good.” It was the sarcastic voice of a familiar “friend”. His wandering came to an end when he finally made himself a seat at the edge of the raggedy bed. “Tho’ yer new haven could use a bit of sprucin’.”

“What are you…is that?” Vaelrin stammered as he rolled himself into an upright position on the floor. His vision was blurred and his head was pounding, but it wasn’t hard to figure out who surprised him with a visit. Voices rarely changed with years. “You have a lot of nerve comin’ here, Skivvy. “

“An’ you hav’ a lot o’nerve not givin’ me any notice about yer whereabouts. “ Skiv retorted with a boisterous laugh.

Men of the sea came in varying degrees of races and ages. Some held their prejudice and restrictions for their men while others were diverse from trolls to humans. Skiv was among the many who held no animosity towards those who were not of his own kind. A human who’s history was as much a mystery as his nickname and earned his right as Admiral for the crew known as the Red Skulls. Yet age made his face wrinkled and belly protrude from his overcoat. Once copper hair now had a dull look of gray to it, and the coarse hair on his face spoke the tale of a man who loathed shaving just as much as he did. While not much had change in appearances for Vaelrin, it was hard to recognize the man once renowned and one of the few names feared at sea. If there was ever a reason why elves served as better leaders, longevity and youth was certainly a plus.  Nevertheless, one knew better than to judge so quickly. Even a frayed book worn from time was still capable of serving its purpose.

Vaelrin finally plopped himself into the seat behind his cluttered desk. A few artifacts and papers were scattered away to make room for a semi-clean glass and what was left of the whiskey he did not finish from last night. The best way to cure a hangover was to drink, of course. “What brings you here?”

“Jus’ a lil’ catch up! Nothin’ wrong with that is there?” he replied with a wickedly toothy grin. Vaelrin knew better than to believe that, but he held off in saying it. “I hear you’ve been playin’ undercover wit’ the Horde folks. Got a sweet deal in one of those mercenary orders in … what’s the name? Sunwill or Sunward, right?”

“Sunguard,” Vaelrin corrected, then chugged a good portion of the whiskey before continuing. “Why is that of any importance?”

“I should be askin’ you that. Weren’t you the one that babbled about hatin’ yer kind or somethin’ like that?”

It was a rather astute point, one that was answered with only silence. Vaelrin quickly washed down the small portion of whiskey from his cup then slowly poured himself another. Skiv gave a grunt and looked off. It was clear that wasn’t up for discussion. “At least you have yer fill of the women. Plenty of fish to leave a man never yearnin’ fer more.”

The elf finally broke into laughter, finally something he could agree on. He rose his glass in cheers before downing the contents quickly. “An’ plenty to go ‘round, but I’m sure you don’t need to know that.”

“O’ course not! What woman daesn’t  love a lil’ bit of heavy liftin’?”

Together their voices roared with laughter, that air of awkward lifted with the talk of women and suggestive things. Such was the humor of men with breasts on the brain.

“My men tell me ye got a lot of them hangin’ bout. Can’t get enuff, huh?”

Vaelrin grinned, “Or maybe they can’t.” For it certainly seemed that way with the way the tides were churning.

Skiv simply laughed at the elf’s sense of humor. As witty as ever and quick with his words, not much had changed between now and years ago when their paths collided more than just a few times in battle. A sudden thought made him snap his fingers. “What’s that woman’s name, the one you sent yer men out to grab a year or so ago?”

It didn’t require much memory to know exactly who the plump Admiral was speaking of. His mood quickly soured at just the thought of him knowing about her. Just one of the many reasons he kept her at arm’s length. If knowledge of his feelings came to light to those who loathed him, she served as a perfect dish for vengeance. The tilt to his bottle gave only a few drops of whiskey to his glass. Hardly enough to wash out the bad taste this discussion was now leaving in his mouth.

“I hear she has tits that makes a man go right back into infancy.” Skiv croaked with a surly grin, amused by the stirred reaction of a man that was said to be without a single weakness. Perhaps a few things had changed since they last parted. Now only one voice rung out in laughter while the other sat brooding behind his desk with eyes burning with the energy of left over fel. A sense of humor was only there to things that did not hold significant importance to him. That awkward laugh was cut short when he realized the Captain was not going to budge, and quickly he cleared his throat and gave a wave of his hand in a dismissive manner. Women could be discussed another time.

“Whatever, that’s hardly tha’ reason I’m here” he stated, and the jovial look of his plump little face was quickly hardened to one of serious intent. “Where you lay yer dick is hardly a concern t’me. Not when there are much bigger plans for the two of us to feast upon like gallant kings.”

The change in his tone and demeanor sparked the Captain’s interest significantly, even if his empty expression said otherwise. “Go on.”

“Yer place puts you in a very valuable position, friend. One that can see to makin’ things happen on both of our ends. You need yer ship, an’ I need my riches. Things have been stale these last few months. Shipments scarce an’ people are more cautious durin’ these times.”

Those words brought a quick frown to the lips of the washed-up Captain. It was apparent that the Admiral did his homework before seeking him out. There was no hiding from the wise man and his tactics.  Vaelrin was forced to listen, more out of pride than interest. “So what’s yer offer?”

“Find reason to brew a war at sea. Giv’ the men somethin’ to keep their eyes off the port an’ focused on yer lil’ mercenary group. Think about it, Black. You do me a favor by givin’ those dogs a reason to turn a blind eye an’ in return, you gain enough to finish the repairs on that dump of yers called a ship.”

“So you want me to cause a fight for no reason?” Vaelrin questioned with a snort. “Yer dum’er than I thought if you think that’ll work.”

“An’ you’ve lost yer touch if you think it—“

Words were cut off as fists pounded the desk loudly. “I haven’t lost ANYTHIN’!” he snapped in response. The reaction stirred silence between the two men and finally a grin on the Admiral’s face.

“Glad t’see you still got that flare in ya… Firestorm,” Skiv replied with a hearty laugh only to end it in a hard cough into his fist. He cleared his throat and hacked up something wicked before finishing. “But it won’t do you any good playin’ roles you don’t fit in.”

“It’s got me far enough. Enough t’gain yer interest.” Vaelrin retorted.

“Tru, tru’. But for how long? Time’s tickin’ my friend. When the rest of Azeroth gets back t’movin, will you be left in the dust?”

“Nay, I’ll be sailin’ abroad with the rest of the men. You’ll see.”

“Then giv’ the idea some thought, Black. You wanted a solution an’ I’m givin it to you wrapped in a bow. Make use of yer position an’ put yerself back on the maps again. Time waits for no one and certainly not for a Captain.”

With that the Admiral rose to his feet from the bed and grasped for both his cane and his corsair. “I know you won’t keep me waitin’, Black. I’ll give ya some time to let it sink. Yer not a stupid elf. Hell, yer one of the few I can actually respect despite all yer magical shit. Jus’ don’t keep me waitin’ fer too long.”

Vaelrin sat quietly and watched as the man rose to his feet helped with the assistance of his cane and noted the slight limp in his walk. Age had certainly done this once fearless leader in, but where he lacked the strength he made up for with his wisdom and secrets.

As he reached the door to his room, Skiv turned and gave a nod of his head and a tilt of his corsair upon is head. “Until next time, Black!” he bellowed. “Sorry t’leave on such short notice. But if you’ll excuse me, I have a ship to maintain.”

The halls filled with laughter as he left the Captain to simmer in his own bitter hatred at the old man. But even he couldn’t deny that the human made a good point. Things needed to change and happen soon before it was too late. Perhaps it was time he took advantage of his current situation. There was certainly a lot to gain and little to lose.

All he needed was an idea and a plan.