Good Brother

"Well, I guess that makes it a draw then," Alleria conceded, hands on her hips, a faint blush creeping up her neck.

"No, dear sister, we both lost," Sylvanas corrected, a sly, crescent-moon smile playing on her lips. That smile sent a shiver down Alleria's spine, a premonition of impending doom. "Have you forgotten the sacred family motto of the Windrunners? We must be the best rangers. If we can't hunt the best prey, we've failed."

Failed? Oh, for the love of the Light, that's just peachy! What was worse than failure, though, was the agonizing thought of having to call Duke "good brother." Blast it all! Alleria, an almost immortal high elf, thousands of years old, couldn't bring herself to utter such a blasphemy to a mere human boy. Especially not with tens of thousands of eyes seemingly boring into her, watching her every move! The feeling of being the center of attention made Alleria's scalp tingle, a truly uncomfortable sensation.

On the other hand, it wasn't just the Windrunner family motto; it was the ingrained pride of being a powerful individual, a truth she couldn't deny. If you didn't give it your all, you lost. If you didn't bag the best prey, you failed. She should have just swallowed her pride and admitted defeat like a champ. But Duke… only Duke… Alleria absolutely did not want to call him brother. Deep down, in her subconscious, Alleria felt that uttering that word would shatter some unspoken taboo, twisting their already vague relationship into something far more dangerous.

Even if Alleria hated to admit it, she couldn't deny that Duke had her hooked, hook, line, and sinker. His audacious plans, his sharp wit, and his endless stream of bizarre, fascinating new ideas had her, the ultimate seeker of novelty, utterly captivated, almost to the point of obsession. She was scared. Scared that she, an immortal, would fall head over heels for a human being, as brilliant and fleeting as a fireworks display, with a lifespan that was a blink of an eye to her. For high elves, whose lives stretched out almost infinitely, a few decades felt like a mere moment, a human lifetime. Human lifespans were simply too short. Too short for any high elf to bear the inevitable, soul-crushing loneliness that would follow decades of passion and love, leaving hundreds, even thousands, of years of solitude.

The only thing that kept Alleria from completely losing her mind was her age. A fifteen-year-old human boy should be nothing more than a babe in the woods to an elf who had seen millennia come and go. But her attention, damn it all, was always drawn to Duke. And the worst part? Her infuriating sister seemed to see right through her, constantly poking and prodding, teasing her mercilessly. Clearly, Sylvanas was playing a typical older-sister prank: "I'd rather suffer myself than let my elder sister off the hook."

"Oh, my dear sister," Sylvanas purred, a wicked glint in her eye. "Haven't you always lectured us about minding our words and deeds, about keeping our promises? Accepting defeat gracefully is a key part of fulfilling a promise, isn't it?"

The Great Demon King Alleria pursed her lips, saying nothing. This was a blunder, a colossal mistake. She had agreed to the bet in a moment of supreme confidence, utterly convinced of her own superior skills. Who would have thought her sister had grown so powerful? Now that she thought about it, it had been ages since she and Sylvanas had truly competed, or hunted together. Opportunities had been few and far between in the last decade, especially after her mischievous second sister had become a glorified desk jockey in Quel'Thalas… Come to think of it, Sylvanas had probably held back on purpose during that last battle in Southshore too, hadn't she? Alleria finally realized she'd been played for a fool, royally betrayed by her own flesh and blood.

Biting her bright red lips, Alleria finally lifted her head, her gaze sweeping across the tens of thousands of eyes seemingly staring at her from all directions (in truth, this was her own panicked illusion; the human warriors were mostly busy mopping up the orcs on the bridge). "Yes," she conceded, her voice barely a whisper, "we both lost. But I… I have the right to wait…"

"Haha, still talking about accepting defeat… you're not even this straightforward when it comes to paying the bill, are you? Well, I'll go first then, shall I?" Sylvanas giggled, a sound like wind chimes made of pure mischief. Sylvanas was absolutely delighted to see her elder sister squirm.

Here, the sisters fought, and Duke won. Even though he knew Sylvanas was deliberately razzing her elder sister, Duke couldn't help but feel a secret thrill. Sylvanas! This was the Sylvanas, the one who would become legendary in later generations, worshipped and revered by millions!

Even if it wasn't from the heart, Sylvanas truly leaned in, her left hand resting on Duke's left shoulder, her right hand gently stroking his stiff neck. Her two red lips, full and tempting, brushed against Duke's ear. She shot a provocative glance at the flustered Alleria, then spoke in a sweet, honeyed tone that no one had ever heard from her before.

"Good brother! Good brother! Good brother…"

There was no pause, every word dripping with exaggerated affection, each one ending with a deliberately drawn-out, suggestive purr. Duke's entire body went numb, a pleasure like an electric shock shooting through his brain, making him almost lose the ability to think. Let's not even get started on the reactions of those around them who caught this scene. Just looking at Alleria, you could tell the Great Demon King was in a state of utter disarray. This female hero, who had risen to fame during the Troll Wars, could cleave through thousands of trolls without batting an eye. She was always the picture of dignified, steady composure in front of outsiders, but at this moment, her face was a masterpiece of shock and mortification.

For some inexplicable reason, watching Sylvanas draped charmingly against Duke, hearing her call him "good brother" in that embarrassingly sweet tone, Alleria felt a fever spread through her entire body. Her skin was burning hot. Gazing at her sister's delicate face, eighty percent identical to her own, it felt as if Alleria herself was leaning into Duke, shamelessly fawning over him. It was as if countless eyes, from the sky and the ground, were staring at her, and a string of shame in Alleria's heart finally snapped.

"Ah!" Alleria, the Ranger General, the eldest sister of the Windrunner family, secretly adored by countless men, let out a shriek like a startled little girl and bolted, running away without a backward glance.

"Hahahaha! Funny! So funny! Big sister, do you always have to lecture us about being serious?" Sylvanas, her wicked plan a resounding success, clutched her twitching waist, bending over with laughter, a coquettish, almost uncontrolled cackle bubbling from her lips. "I'm laughing myself to death!"

After three minutes of uncontrolled mirth, Sylvanas finally straightened up. She suddenly looked at Duke, who was still standing there, utterly bewildered, and said, "Well, I was just trying to tease my eldest sister. If you think I, Sylvanas, am interested in you, I'm really sorry."

Sorry? Has anyone ever apologized like that? Duke was practically on the verge of tears as a sharp, searing pain shot through the soft flesh on his waist. Sylvanas, that little devil, had just twisted his love handles a full 360 degrees with her two slender fingers, all to declare that she was cutting all ties with him.

"Ah!" The poor Duke let out a yelp of pain, but it was quickly muffled as Sylvanas clapped a hand over his mouth.