Illidan's Private Journal - The Orchard's First Kiss
(Journal fragment, penned in Illidan's hand.)
The Ariakan table was set with quail and bread. Nothing grand. Yet it felt richer than any feast I have ever endured. Her father questioned me. Her mother watched me. I answered without pride, without posture. I feared I would ruin it. I did not.
When she laughed, I listened. When her hand brushed mine beneath the table, I nearly forgot to breathe. Even the fox and the raven seemed to claim me.
Later, in the orchard, fireflies stitched the dark. I asked if I might kiss her. The words caught, but I forced them free. She answered with only one: yes.
I kissed her with more care than I have given to any spell, any study. Gentle. Reverent. She smiled against my mouth, as if the choice had always been hers.
It unsettles me to write this, but I must. Tonight I was not chasing power. I was not hungering for recognition. Tonight I was content.