The Silent Rainfall

She noticed it far too late. It wasn’t a big thing; it wasn’t the end of the world, but it was, and she realized that when it was long, long past.

Khadgar decided to stay in bed.

It was perfectly fine; their picnic date had been interrupted by the sudden onslaught of a mass of grey above. The clouds were soft and dark, rippling over Karazhan’s towers, quiet and purposeful. The downpour slicked the stones and thrust against the mortar, but the structure was solid, and the magic within it was too powerful to die with the oversight of faulty walls.

It was true–their home did not usually get sunshine. They took their picnics out in Elwynn forest, and while she laughed and flew off as she always had, a large druidic bird of pink feathers, a small voice in her mind murmured that Khadgar hadn’t used Atiesh’s flying form in a few months. Perhaps it had been years, now? He smiled and chased after her, but it was on the back of one of their gryphons, sent off to graze and chase doe as they ate.

Gryphons, he’d often griped, gave him saddle-sores, which she had always laughed at and remarked something about kissing wounds that still managed to cast a blush over his features, despite their increasing lines.

“Mm–!” She stretched up from their bed, the covers falling down to her legs. The shirt beneath was soft and loose, and she yawned as the bliss of sleep faded back. Her white hair fell in a mess, and she hummed an old tune as she collected herself and braided it into a thick tail to lay over her shoulder and down her chest. The hum paused abruptly when she realized that she couldn’t remember the name of the song, or anyone else who might’ve heard it, so she looked out the paned window to the rain instead and listened to its soft tapping.

Her gaze drifted down lovingly to her husband, bundled up nice and neat so that only his white hair and the start of his face could be seen. Against his eyes there were crow’s feet now, and his cheeks had drawn in some, despite her best attempts to feed him well. He was far from gaunt–ooh, how he still could make her weak in the knees, casting a dashing gaze her way–but it was a noticeable difference in their portraits.

He shifted about and settled again, taking a long breath. “Morning.”

She leaned down, kissing his cheek. The light from outside cast shadows through the rain along his face, looking like the ghosts of tears. “Morning.”

She shifted about again, turning and lighting the candle at the bedside table, letting it shine through their apartment. Despite his stature, his achievements, and his complete ownership of Karazhan, he had chosen one of the smaller bedrooms for theirs, those many decades ago. Painted views adorned the walls of things long lost; Teldrassil’s beauty, Turalyon and Alleria, the childhood faces of Arator, Avalon, and Anaël.

“It’s raining?” he mumbled, voice still amassed in sleep.

“Mhm!” She nestled back down against his back, kissing his ear. “Clouds above as far as the eye can see–maybe even going into Elwynn.”

“Ah, they probably are–” with a grunt and a strong push, he finally made it over onto his back, looking up at her with a worn smile. Those blue eyes had never lost their tender sparkle.

“Hi.”

She giggled, putting a hand over his cheek to cover the rainfall. “Hi.”

He pulled her down into a kiss, and nothing in the world was wrong.

The hours passed by uneventfully, in bliss and warmth and comfort, without responsibility or anyone else at all. They stayed huddled in the rain, close, pleasing themselves with their company. Lunchtime came and went, and finally when the grey clouds started to get darker as the sun fell behind them, there was a timid knock on the door from one of the stewards they’d kept in their employment to tend to the vast reaches of their home.

Perry called back that everything was fine, and the steward replied that dinner was set for them downstairs. She thanked him, and they heard him wander away through the halls.

“Dinner time,” she said, kissing him once more before sitting up again and stretching. “C’mon~!”

She started out of bed and was to the doorway before she realized he hadn’t followed. She glanced back along the dark room to him, his face lit against the dark blue blankets by candlelight.

“C’mon, Bubbly~ We need to eat.”

“Hm.”

She blinked, blinked again, and her smile slowly faded against her cheeks.

“Are you all right, love?”

“M’fine; I’m fine,” he said, voice softer than she remembered it being in recent years. “Just– don’t– I don’t much feel like getting up, is all.”

Perry giggled, sauntering back over to the bedside. “I see, so you want dinner in bed and to be pampered, dearest?”

A bemused, wistful smile played along his mouth in the candlelight. She giggled again and leaned down, teasing, stopping inches from him.

“Dinner in bed, then, and I’ll see what I can manage about pampering.”

He laughed and stuck out his tongue. She stuck her own out back at him, licking the end of his, then darted back with a squeak and a peal of laughter, overdramatically pawing at her mouth. “Ewwww!”

Khadgar heaved out a sigh and rolled his eyes, grinning.

Perry grinned back, moving out the door, thinking nothing of her husband staying in bed until the next day came and went without any change in his position. He was still cordial, but he was low-energy; the days of youth spent asking adventurers for exactly 2,500 Nethershards–IT HAD TO BE EXACTLY 2,500! were gone. He was mature.

He was slowing down.

The rain beat softly against the window, and she tried in vain to lift him from the bed. She laughed, making it a game, trying to hide the pit of dread growing in her stomach. She stepped out of his reach, sultry and teasing, biting her lip and waiting for him to follow–but all he could do was watch after her with a dramatic pout that faded slowly into a wistful gaze, and something caught in the edge of his eyes she couldn’t identify. She didn’t want to identify.

Fear.

Acceptance.

She threw the thoughts aside, clambering back into the bed with him and submitting that he wouldn’t chase after her anymore, making them both forget with momentary kisses and conversations of other things. Old reminisces were brought back; long-lost adventures, musings about where acquaintances had gone off to, what their foolish children had gotten themselves up to and how many grandchildren would come to visit next Winter’s Veil.

And all the while, the sick, cold pit lodged in her chest sat and festered, coming back to twist her nerves when he said again he’d prefer dinner in bed. She smiled sweetly and kissed his cheek, getting it, unable to shake off the feeling that she shouldn’t tarry along the way.

The third day came and went.

The fourth.

The fifth.

Khadgar had grown quieter. The rain had stayed all throughout, and Perry wished it would go away and cast the brilliant sunlight back into their home; that the stars would light up the night sky again and they could rush outside and onto a hill, lying down side by side with nothing but the wide vaults of the heavens above. She brought up memory after memory, and he listened and smiled and added on sometimes, but the days were overwhelmingly full of her voice and his love of it.

On the sixth day, she instructed the stewards to bring two old friends, the best healers she knew in Azeroth, and her children as soon as was possible, then hurried back to her husband’s side, afraid to miss a moment with him.

Word was brought back that both of her children and their families were in the midst of important work for the factions, and that they would come as soon as possible. A few hours later, Ajelee and Chún Moonleaf came, quickly joining her in the grand, empty ballroom downstairs. She had known Lee far longer; he was an Archdruid, as she was, a druid of balance as well as restoration. He was imposing and quite a bit taller than her, but he had always done his best to treat her and Khadgar with respect. She hadn’t seen much of him, though; he worked as an ambassador most times, and the factions took up much of his time.

Chún on the other hand, remained a lovely mystery. A pandaren priestess, she had studied extensively at Darnassus’s temple and was blessed by Elune. Perry didn’t put much faith into that–or that she had white dove’s wings, as many priests mumbled in awe–but she knew that she was widely regarded as one of the most powerful holy priestesses in the Alliance.

They greeted her with smiles, but the happiness was forced, and their eyes shed worry that made Perry’s heart thud heavily against her ribs. She had detailed Khadgar’s condition in her brief letter to them. They wasted no time asking to go up and see him.

Khadgar was looking out the window as they all came in. The greetings were cordial, and pleasant chatter filled the room while they found an easy way to break the ice on the subject. Perry clambered into bed next to him, sitting and smiling, hand finding his and squeezing a little too tight. The conversation lulled.

He knew, just as well as his healers.

“Do either of you want anything?” Perry said, voice bright and loud, filling the gap in their silence. “You both must have come a long way.”

Lee shook his head politely in silence. Chún just watched her patient, soft hands folded over her robe.

“Bubbly?” She turned to him. “Do you?”

Khadgar was looking out the window again. Her smile twitched and faltered, and her throat felt tighter. He took a breath, turning his head to see her with those wondrous blue eyes, getting wearier and wearier by the hour, and smiled. It was light, and did not stay long before his muscles relaxed again on his face.

“Perry,” he murmured. His voice filled the room, and she let out a shuddering breath, face drawn taut. The word was feeble and weak. Old. Unable to cast more than a few wishes.

His fingers moved gently against hers, interlacing, caressing. He’d held in his hands the power of gods. The skin was wrinkled and pockmarked. His fingers were thin and tired.

His thumb moved over hers, squeezing. It was light, but she realized with a tremble that it was all he could manage.

“Khadgar,” she murmured back, brow starting to tremble and press together, heat burning under her eyes as tears threatened to take away her gaze over him.

“How long left, do you feel?” Lee asked. The words barely registered in Perry’s ears, but they were crisp and clear.

Khadgar stroked his wife’s hand, glancing out the window again.

“Until the rain stops. One last storm to weather through.”

He turned back to Perry with a calming smile. It stayed as her lip trembled; it stayed when her sorrow fell against his face like the rain. He winced, pulling an arm out, trying in vain to reach up and brush her cheek–but his arm trembled, and his teeth pressed firm together to keep it up. She laid down next to him, curling up, and his hand moved easier, finding the tears along her face and brushing them away.

“We’ll bring your children as fast as possible,” Lee said, bowing. As he left, Chún tucked Perry in, and under the warm covers the elf curled up against her human husband.

“Perry,” Khadgar murmured gently, and the heat came to her eyes again. She blinked them away furiously, taking a shuddering breath. She wouldn’t let him leave her sight.

The pandaren moved back gracefully, tending to the food trays in the room. Perry glanced at her, lips trembling then pressed together firmly.

“You’re the best there is, Chún. Is there–” She gulped, catching her breath. “Is there something?”

Chún paused, turning back to them. “Milady Peregrïn, I can treat any wound. Any ailment. Even– Even raise the dead, when the body can still support life. But neither I nor– nor Lee, can prevent, alter, or stop the effects of aging. He’s lived– He’s lived long past any normal point of life for a human. Age is inevitable. I’m sorry.”

Chún turned away again, and before Perry could reply, Khadgar gently tugged her back down against him. She looked to him, fierce and determined and scared beyond anything else, but she was met with the same quiet smile he’d had when he’d first saw her. That old absent-minded stare. The quiet look of tenderness. His eyes were a home for her heart.

And where would it be without them?

She curled in tight against him, praying to Elune the rain never ended. She held him tight throughout the night, barely sleeping, listening to the soft downpour, slender fingers covering his heart to feel its beat.

Avalon and Anaël and their families came sometime towards dawn. She had fallen asleep finally, and woke when they came in. Lee escorted them, silent, and they stayed back, unsure, looking on. Perry blinked at them, then at the window.

The rain was lighter. The first rays of sun broke through the grey cover.

She looked to Khadgar, wide-eyed.

His eyes opened slow and heavy, as if the weight of the world was trying to press them back. Everything he had to give was to catch a glimpse of her, and against the pressure and heaviness of each muscle, he still managed that tender smile her visage brought.

“The kids are here,” she murmured, a crystal tear shining in the daylight and dropping against his chin.

“Please say hello to them.” The words were little more than a ragged whisper. His face was pale. Mortal. Ancient.

“He says hi,” she said, casting a glance and a pained smile quickly at them then turning back, afraid of looking away. They murmured their love, moving around to be next to their father. She felt them, but couldn’t turn away. She wouldn’t miss this. If she could hold him there, in her eyes, he’d never go.

Khadgar took a breath. She heard the air drawn in, wheezing like it was moving through a dusty flute, then press out again and rest. He blinked, and didn’t open his eyes nearly as far.

“Khadgar?” Her voice was quiet, shivering. A second stream glistened down her face.

“Perry.” There was all the love in the world in that word. All the tenderness of centuries. All the joy and hope and brilliance of the sunrise. It lit up his blue eyes one last time.

“I love you,” she said, blinking hard to try and keep him in her gaze as it filled up opaque.

He smiled wider, blissful, blinking again slowly. He breathed out with a murmur. “Love y…”

The word trailed off. The breath was gone to the air, unable to pull back. The room was silent as the rain ceased, and the sun crept forth from the grey above. His blue eyes were shut. His heart was still.

The world was still.

She broke. Tears tumbled wildly, breath jagged in her chest, and her head fell against his. Their white hair wove together, and time unwound. Sometimes there was an empty sun in the sky; sometimes cold stars and the bitter face of Elune. Her family gathered around her, and weakly she noticed that there were many more now; kings and rulers he’d helped standing in the ballroom whose names she couldn’t recall–that they were at the crypt now, his coffin being carried down coarse stone into the depths of the earth–that they were gone again, until her children around her bid her goodnight and Chún gently tucked her in an empty bed.

The cliffside was beautiful.

“But it’s not as beautiful as you,” he said.

Perry laughed, the long braid along her chest bouncing along gaily. “Khadgar, has line that ever worked on anyone living?”

Khadgar grinned, pearly white teeth shining in the sunlight under a well-kept brown beard. His white and brown mane was tied back neatly–she’d prided herself on it looking incredible–and a single bang of white hair crept down over his forehead. His robes billowed out in the wind, and his strong hand took hers.

“Well, you stayed with me, and I have lines far worse than that, I assure you, darling…”

She giggled, rolling her eyes and squeezing his hand tight. His grin faded into a loving smile. She looked out at the ocean ahead, then at him, then at him, smile fading slightly. She blinked, brows furrowing slowly.

“Khadgar?”

“Perry.”

She gulped. Logic and reason came flooding in, and the winds blew cold against her legs. She managed a shy smile.

“Since when did you start dying your hair brown? Since when did you get a beard?” She smirked. “It looks… scratchy.”

He scoffed. “I think it looks nice!”

She grinned. “Oh, I never said it didn’t look very, very nice, dear; just might be scratchy against my skin.”

He made a show of huffing. “Well then I shall keep it extremely nicely kept so it doesn’t scratch your tender skin!”

She giggled, and he laughed along. It faded a little too fast. She squeezed his hand tighter.

“Perry,” he said again, voice tender and strong.

“Tell me I’m awake,” she murmured. “Please, Khadgar, tell me I’m awake and that everything else was a dream.”

He smiled, eyes tinged in sorrow. “I can’t. One of my wedding vows, which I’ve been very dutiful to keep, my love, was that I would never lie to you.”

A tremor ran through her, and he tightened his grip on her hand, steadying her.

“I don’t want to wake up, then,” she said.

“You have to,” he said simply.

“No.” She shook her head, frowning slowly. “The world without you–I can’t describe it, Khadgar. The colors are raw, and hard. The birdsong is nothing but lamentation. The food is ash; the wine is tasteless. I can’t see where I’m going, anymore; I just look around and realize where I’ve drifted.”

Khadgar brushed her cheek, and she realized a tear had lingered there.

“I will wait for you. And some nights, you may dream of me; every day, I will watch over you with every being of Light there is by my side to keep you safe.”

She held his hand tighter. “I may live for centuries more, alone. Every day would be an aching wish that the night might bring you back to me.”

“You’re never going to be alone, Perry,” he said, palm resting along her cheek. “Centuries or not, there is nothing that will keep me from being at your side. Even if you can’t see me; can’t hear me; can’t feel me holding you, nothing will change in all those small affections I’d give you.”

Another tear fell against his thumb, and he brushed it away with a reassuring smile.

“I’m going to try and not be an annoying haunt; I promise.”

She laughed, moving in and resting her head to his shoulder. The laughter turned to shivers, and he soothed them away.

“Don’t you worry about how long I might wait. Time is of such little concern: all that matters to me is being with you, and seeing you happy. And if– if that means you find someone else, then don’t worry about that–”

She wrapped her arms around him tight, fierce. “No one else. No one else would ever replace you.”

He paused, then hugged her tight, petting along her back.

“I don’t want to wake up. I don’t want you to leave again.” She trembled against him, and he nuzzled against her.

“You have to, my love,” he murmured. “Because this world would be a much colder place without the warmth of your smile.”

Chún prepared breakfast with the stewards. Lee helped, seating Perry’s children and making sure they were being well cared-for. The distress of their mother being distant so soon after Khadgar’s passing–

A light footfall came to their ears, and everyone paused.

Down the curve of one of the many staircases, Peregrïn stepped gracefully, a soft smile along her features, white hair long and braided, pink slender form tucked away in a blue robe that sparkled like her husband’s eyes. She set her feet down along the rug at the base of the steps, glancing up pleasantly at them all.

“Mom?” Avalon murmured, getting up slowly. Her brother followed suit, worried, hopeful.

Perry cleared her throat.

“I’m sorry–” she paused and cleared her throat again, starting louder. “I’m sorry if I gave anyone trouble. I feel much better now–I’m sure, of course, Lee, you’ll want to verify that.”

Ajelee blinked then nodded slowly.

Perry chuckled. “Well. Either way, I say we all have a wonderful breakfast and a good day from then on.”

She walked gracefully to the table. As she approached, the group noted a paper, rolled up in her hand. Anaël asked gently what it was.

Perry laughed and sat down. “Oh, Elune–it’s something I’m realizing I’m actually rather timid to confess.”

Avalon frowned quickly. “Mom–”

Perry held up a hand, for once perfectly calm. Avalon relaxed slightly, perplexed. Perry set the paper down, opening it and folding her hands.

“It’s the first song I’ve written in a good fifty years, or so. I used to write them all the time, thinking I could sing them to Khadgar, or as lullabies–and every time, I squirreled them away instead.” She grinned, an impish lustre in her eyes. “But I suppose I should try and actually present this one?”

The party clamored that yes, yes, please, she should.

Perry smiled, looking down to the paper:

Softly along the winds above/ A darling bird descends / And on its wings there is a prayer / Of which I’ll comprehend

On a tree outside my window / This raven stops and sings / The gentle tune I start up now / With joy I’ll try and bring

“Come” says he, this Raven fair / “Come listen for awhile / To tales long gone within my song / And cast to me your smile.”

Says I, “My dear pretty bird, / I’ll thank you for such gifts” / And on he sang of brilliant things / And darkness ‘round me lifts

So on he sang, this Raven fair / And I his captive one / And through the dawn his feathers bloomed / Until his song was done

Says I, “My dear pretty bird, / I’m blessed that this you shared, / But why, pray tell, did you choose me / To give such tender care?”

The Raven laughed upon its perch / And stared me in the eye / And without word he flew away / Towards the autumn sky

But as he flew a feather fell / And landed in the earth / Upon the tomb of one I loved / Who bid me live with mirth

So on along my days I’ll tread / And dance whene’er I can / And drink and love and merrily / ‘Til I see him once again.

Perry ended her verses and looked up sweetly to them all. They were silent, and along their faces she could see awe. She glanced over to Khadgar’s seat, where he normally dined. The blue velvet across from her was faded and empty–and yet, she could almost see the outline of his shoulders, facing her.

She could almost feel his smile. So she put on hers, and faced the day anew with all she could give.