Warcraft Under Moonlight

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**Under Moonlight**

"Kalaia? Are you alright?"

It was a foolish question. Tyrande knew that, and when your daughter was sitting on the terrace, as if waiting for sunrise, she suspected that any mother would know that. People were alright, nowadays. The world was healing, the threats to Azeroth removed, the line between Alliance and Horde in name only, the two power blocs otherwise at peace. But children were often not alright. In a world of peace, they could still find turmoil. And as she sat beside her daughter, the ruler of the kaldorei resolved to find out what.

"You can't stay out here forever you know," Tyrande continued. "You'll have to come in sooner or later."

"I'm trying to stop being nocturnal," Kalaia grunted.

"And is it working?"

"Not yet."

It might have ended then and there. Tyrande knew that she was entitled to leave and return to her life of quill and parchment. But she refused. It would be hard, raising a child she knew, what with her duties as priestess and ruler while Malfurion spent most of his time abroad, healing the scars of a world still feeling lingering pain from the Cataclysm. She couldn't spend as much time with Kalaia as she wanted, and while Shandris was always willing to spend time of her own with her, Tyrande knew she had to come first.

"Speak to me Kalaia," the priestess said. "I'm your mother."

"Really? I couldn't tell."

"Maybe not…but if you speak to me now, hopefully that will change."

Looking up at her mother, the young night elf seemed to be considering it. "Seemed" however, was the operative word. Kalaia had inherited her mother's figure, but her personality was often more akin to her father's or long dead uncle's-reserved, sometimes brooding, yet ready to let loose at a moment's notice. Or it could have been from nothing more than a young age.

"I heard something today. At the schoolhouse."

An age where impressions could easily be made.

"We were talking about Elune, and the Sisterhood…"

"My line of work," Tyrande commented. A statement of the obvious, but she wanted to show that she was indeed listening.

"And a comment was made…that sisters of Elune have to put their love of the goddess before anyone, or anything else."

Tyrande remained silent.

"Is it true, mother?" Kalaia asked, her amber eyes shining intensely. "Is that what you're doing all the time while father's away? Playing the good daughter instead of a mother?"

"There's no need for that," Tyrande murmured.

"Isn't there? It sounded ludicrous, but you're the proof in the orc broth."

Tyrande sighed. She suspected that Kalaia wasn't as concerned about the comment as she made out to be. Rather, it was the blade of grass that broke the saber's back. She'd tried to be there for her, but…well, it was time to shift her priorities, if only temporarily. King Anduin Wrynn was expecting a letter, while Baine Bloodhoof wanted Sentinel help to secure trade routes in the south, but as far as Tyrande was concerned, the world could wait. Her work could wait. Even Elune Herself could wait.

"Love of Elune…" Tyrande mused.

"That's right," Kalaia snapped. "You got some platitude or something?"

"No," Tyrande said. "I don't. And do you know why?"

"Enlighten me."

"Love…" Tyrande mused, looking for the best words to explain it. "Isn't a word I'd use for the goddess."

Kalaia raised an eyebrow.

"Do I respect Elune? Of course. Am I grateful for Her benevolence to all the life of Azeroth? Of course, and I'm not just referring to Her blessings during the War of the Ancients. Do I give praise? Yes, as circumstance demands. But love? I…do not think I could use that word. Not now."

"As opposed to…when?" Kalaia asked.

Tyrande smiled. "As opposed to when I could settle down and realize what love truly is. As opposed to what I feel for your father and yourself. Love is something that exists in the here and now, Kalaia. It's a product of this world. Of its peoples. It's a product that any being can feel if their heart allows it. It's something that we must give ourselves and give others, before offering it to whatever powers exist beyond this world."

Tyrande put her hands on her daughter's shoulders. "Kalaia…I'm a ruler. I'm a priestess. I'm in the middle of some important work right now, and I can't promise I'll be here as much as you need me. But I promise you…I _do _love you. I love your father, I love you, and I will never put anyone, or anything, before either of you."

The hands remained on Kalaia's shoulders. Or at least they did until the young night elf hugged her mother, Tyrande returning the favour.

"Thanks…" Kalaia murmured.

Tyrande nodded. "Anytime," she said softly. "I'm here for you."

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_A/N_

_If I have an idea or theme behind a oneshot, sometimes I explain it, sometimes I don't. Here however, I feel an explanation is warrented._

_Suffice to say, I do a lot of browsing of stories, on this site and elsewhere. And while I do indeed set aside time to give constructive (I hope) reviews, I will admit I don't review absolutely everything I read/glance at. What inspired me to write this however was a oneshot I glanced at, one where the 'moral' of the story was "love your family, but you must love God more." A moral that was explained/enforced on a young child._

_Before anyone gets in a tizz, no, I do not mean this to be insulting to anyone of monothiestic faith, nor am I insulting faith itself. However, I would still maintain that the here and now must always take precedence over personal belief and to me, this includes friends and loved ones. I'm not inviting a debate on the issue, this was simply me getting my own thoughts out. While this may come off as a troll fic, I would rather be honest in this case as to the idea behind it._


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Warcraft, Family, Hurt-Comfort