Freedom and Fel Embers

*Dalaran, present day*

Mirithel quickened her pace, her boots loud on the cobblestones of the magical city of Dalaran. She passed a number of shops, her fel green gaze straying to them only for a moment as she continued along her way. Her senses tingled, her heart beating a little faster as she continued to feel like someone was following her. It had started a few blocks back and the feeling had not abated, so she hurried along her way. While the city should be safe, there were always enemies about somewhere.

As she passed between two shops, her luck ran out. A hand grabbed her arm, roughly pulling her into a small alley between the buildings. She was pushed hard against one of the stone walls, air escaping her lungs as a meaty hand wrapped around her throat and held her there by her neck. She gasped, her hands coming up to the arm holding her, little fel embers already dancing on her fingertips.

"Fel magic in Dalaran? I don't think I'd do that if I were you, whore. You'll end up in an even worse position than you are now," a deep voice rumbled in Thalassian. The owner of the voice, a human man whose primary attribute was being large, glared at her from beneath a hood that partially shadowed his face. He wore a motley array of leather armor that had seen better days, and a number of knives rode at his belt.

Despite the hood, Mirithel's eyes widened in recognition of the human that was now man-handling her, her voice coming out in a choked gasp, "Tassen..."

He grinned, his hand squeezing a little and cutting off her air, "Oh, so you do remember me, do you? I'm surprised, given what I've heard of you after our parting. Of how you've stepped on everyone you could to become...this. I see you still dress like his whore though. At least you don't lie about what you are." He spit on the ground after the last part, as if to emphasize the point.

Mirithel's heart raced in her chest, her eyes locked on the sleet gray orbs of the human that held her. She tried to squirm in his grasp, but all that earned her was another choking squeeze and the feel of his hard body pressing her into the stones, "Y-you can't hold on to it forever..."

He snarled in her face, bringing his own inches from her, his fetid breath surrounding her as he leaned closer, "Only until you die. Although you've been dead on the inside for a decade or more so it's just waiting for the outside to go...or helping it along..."

She could tell he was serious. The rage and pain in his hollow stare was enough to telegraph what would happen. He'd choke her or knife her and leave her for dead in this alley, thinking it would kill the memories that haunted him likely day and night, haunted them both. She tried to say something, anything, to convince him otherwise. Her mouth opened, but every conniving, seductive, or even plaintive thing she could think of to say died on her tongue as she knew they would fall on deaf ears.

A moment later her surprise increased as a hand grabbed Tassen's shoulder, a second grabbing him by the back of the head. Before Mirithel could even process what was going on, Tassen was slammed face-first into the stone wall beside her, grunting before his attacker pulled him back and slammed him again. He was then whirled around and shoved out of the alley, his footsteps wobbly as he regained his balance from the surprise attack.

Before Mirithel stood another blood elf, his back to her as he stared Tassen down. For his part, the human merely sneered, spitting in the street and wiping some blood from his nose before growling at her, "You can't hide from it forever, whore. There will be a time when you won't have some charmed fool to defend you, and then you're mine."

With that he was gone, leaving Mirithel shaking with fear, her heart still pounding as her rescuer turned and looked at her, his voice calm, "Are you alright? How did that human know how to speak Thalassian?"

It took a moment for Mirithel to calm enough to register that she'd heard the voice before, her eyes wide as she replied, "You...you're that elf from the bar the other day..."

"Andithiel, yes," he replied with a smile. "I've been looking for you everywhere. An innkeeper in Silvermoon said you often traveled between there and here, so I came here to look for you in the taverns. You can call me Andi."

For a moment, Mirithel's mouth opened and closed without words as she processed everything that had just happened. A moment later she frowned, practically shoving him out of the way as she stormed into the street beyond. "You should not have searched for me. I'm not someone you want to be looking for."

She could feel him falling into step beside her, his longer stride outpacing her even as she walked furiously down the street. His voice was somewhat surprised, but calm when he replied, "Well, I guess a 'thank you' is not coming, but that's alright. I still want to talk to you."

She stopped abruptly, whirling on one boot, the fabric of her rather revealing outfit shifting in place as she jabbed a manicured finger into his chest, "A 'thank you'?! You don't even know me. Don't even know what you walked into. Do you think you're the hero, saving a damsel? Do you think I couldn't have protected myself, if I'd wanted to? Did you ever stop to think that maybe you saved the villain of the story?"

He blinked in surprise at the fury she leveled at him. Despite her raging anger, she was still beautiful, and he paused for a moment to admire the way her hair messily fell around that face. The way those pert lips spat fury at him with every breath. He blinked, realizing she had fallen silent, as if expecting him to answer her impossible tirade. He shrugged, his reply nearly making her eyes bug out of her head, "I want you to teach me. Your magic I mean. I want to learn how to be a warlock."

"You...you want me....to... what?!" Mirithel replied, her surprise so complete that Andithiel actually chuckled.

"I want you to teach me your magic. I gave a lot of thought to what you said, about being free, about finding my own path. I want to learn what you know," he replied in that same calm tone.

"No one asks to become a warlock. That's....that's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard," Mirithel said, looking utterly confused. "Warlocks are people who grasp for power, who grind each other to dust to become ever stronger. Either that, or people so desperate they reach for whatever they can to survive, to..." her voice trailed off, her eyes alight with whatever thoughts crossed her mind.

"Miri, listen," Andithiel began. "For years, I've sat on the sidelines as my two sisters fought for our family, our house. Sure, I've helped out with my bow, and lead rangers in my time, but it was always magic assaulting us, destroying us both from without and within. Even now, magical plots surround us and I'm not strong enough to protect them, to help. I want to walk my own path. I want to learn how to address the problems that I know exist in my own way. I can't do that without learning magic, and I can't rely on what my sisters know because it's not enough. We've suffered too much. I need to do this both for my family, and to be free of my family if that makes sense. To be able to make decisions that are too hard for anyone else to make."

For a long moment, Mirithel said nothing, merely studying the elf before her. No longer in combat leathers, he wore a rather plain doublet and pants. He could have blended in anywhere really, and there was no hint that he came from a noble house or that he had the capabilities he was claiming. And yet he'd driven off Tassen, and now had the boldness to ask a warlock, to ask her of all people, to train him. Her voice was low when she replied, the rage having simmered down, "No one can be that altruistic with this power. It will take a hold on you. It may damn you. Are you willing to take that risk for your family?"

His nod was sincere as was the tone in his voice, "Of course I am. I'm not afraid, but I want to walk a new path. I don't know any warlocks who I trust to teach me. I don't technically even know you, but you seem to be wise enough to remain free from influences that I've seen other people fall to easily. If you weren't, you'd be some lapdog in one of the houses by now, not walking the streets, wearing whatever you'd like and doing whatever you'd like. I immediately envied that when I met you."

She smirked at him, her tone more amused and seductive, "Envied me, or really enjoyed what I was wearing?"

"Would having a ravishing beauty for a teacher be a bad thing really?" he grinned back.

A smile passed over her features for the first time since the encounter began, light chasing darkness away, "Flattery gets you everywhere. I will agree to teach you, but only you can decide how far you are willing to go with it. It will be dangerous, and missteps can cost you more than you can imagine. If you're willing to face that, meet me in Filthy Animal tomorrow evening, and I will show you the trials you face walking this path."

He nodded at her, returning the smile, "Tomorrow it is then. I promise you I will not disappoint you...er...do I have to call you a title or anything as my instructor?"

She laughed at this, shaking her head, "I'm no noble snot for you to fawn over. Call me Miri or don't talk to me at all. I will see you tomorrow. Bring an open mind and a willingness to overcome challenges and you will go far."

He nodded again, "Alright, Miri, I'll see you tomorrow." With that, he turned, striding casually away from her and down the street. As if he had not just made a pact with a devil. As if he hadn't just turned her entire world upside down in the space of five minutes.

She watched him, staring down that street long after he was gone. Watched him walk free for what was likely the first time in his life, and a smile made its way onto her lips. Regardless of what Tassen thought, she was in the business of freeing people. She couldn't set the past to rights, but the future was hers and she would let no one stand in her way. With that last thought in mind she turned, striding towards the nearest magic shop; she had supplies to purchase now for her new pupil.

Terrible Influences

*Silvermoon City, early evening*

Andithiel was beyond pissed off. Raging probably was the correct word to use as he stalked through the streets of Silvermoon and then took a quick left into the darkened opening of a building along Murder Row. Gauzy silken curtains parted to allow him entry into one of the seediest taverns in the city, the place filled with an array of shady looking characters that fit his mood just perfectly. Still wearing his practice armor, the tight leather vest and studded leather pants that hugged his muscular form let him blend in well with the patrons.

How dare she? How dare she send her little minions to issue orders to any member of his household? 

It was bad enough that they had remained allied with Kyliska and her sister for all these months. After all, they'd built them a light-damned spire in repayment for their assistance in battle at former House Felo'melorn's garrison on Draenor. How much longer did they need to repay that debt and curry favor with the unpredictable sisters and scrape and bow as if the two were of any benefit to Andithiel, his sisters, or the city in general?

And now this. In the middle of practice he'd received a missive from Braeth'el ordering him to assign spots to several new rangers and to ensure proper equipment was provided. Andithiel had had enough of Kyliska's latest bed-warmer, and to think of the arrogance of ordering him to take time and effort for her personal soldiers was the last straw.

He'd brought it up with his sisters several times over the past month, but to no avail. Selenthiel, ever the diplomat, had urged patience and expressed sympathy over his frustrations. Tyavel had merely huffed as if his irritations were less important than whatever plans she kept shuttered behind her fel green eyes. He loved his sisters dearly, but he couldn't understand why they didn't see how bad this continued alliance was for their family. Especially with Biara's 'mysterious' disappearance that was, to him, no mystery and another political implosion waiting to happen. He slid into a seat at the bar, practically barking at the bartender for some hard liquor. As an entire bottle was placed in front of him, he felt a pair of eyes on him, and glanced to his left.

She was beautiful. No, that word wasn't even enough, stunning maybe. Fel green eyes studied him from a distance, artfully styled strawberry hair framing her heart shaped face, with the light of the tavern striking her just so, as if she'd planned it. A long cigarette rested between her fingers, acrid smoke rising around her in a stream that left her seemingly shrouded in mystery, the scent clearly laced with bloodthistle. And her outfit... well, to say that Selenthiel would be horrified was putting it mildly. It the purple and blue material glittered with fel green runes, the sheer fabric tight and not nearly present in enough quantity to conceal soft curves and delightfully tanned flesh. And atop her head rested what he first mistook for a demon hunter's horns, only to realize a second later that it was in fact a tiara made of shorn off demonic horns resting atop that mass of hair like a crown.

She met his gaze, blood red lips parting in a smile as she glanced at the bottle, "Having a rough day?" Her voice was like a purr, and Andithiel was not foolish or inexperienced enough to know that everything, from her voice to her appearance to the way she crossed her legs towards him while talking, was all planned and calculated carefully.

He grunted at her, taking a drink directly from the bottle, "A frustrating one, if it's any of your business that is."

Her smile widened, the look almost predatory as she replied, "Sometimes frustrations can be cured more easily than one might first imagine."

He glanced over at her, a brow raised. Was she trying to seduce him after he'd just told her how annoyed he was? Despite himself, his gaze swept over her rather deliciously revealed body before returning to her eyes. For a moment there was amusement there, as if she knew everything he was thinking. He coughed and then gruffly replied, "I don't need your advice or help."

She shrugged, taking a long pull on her cigarette, the smoke trailing from her mouth in a sensuous, snaking trail as she replied, her eyes traveling over him now before meeting his gaze again, "You don't look like someone who needs 'help' or anything else. You look capable enough to handle your frustrations directly. But, your hands are tied, aren't they?"

He studied her for a moment; it was clear she was a deadly little thing with a razor sharp mind. The fel runes dancing on the fabric of her dress made him shudder, recalling every one of Tyavel's lectures about such things. And yet, for a brief moment he imagined that little slip of fabric on the floor of an inn room. Sighing, he took another sip of his drink and grudgingly nodded, "Yes, I would say that is accurate. I'm sure you wouldn't understand."

She shook her head, her hands spread wide in gesture, "But I do. This place, this city, it is like a prison at times. The rules, the politics, the expectations. My hands were once tied too, once bound to duties and service that would have ground me to dust. I know exactly what you are experiencing. Do you want to know what to do about it?"

He looked back at her, staring into that gaze and seeing the wheels turning deep within. She knew how to manipulate, how to play the games, and yet it was clear she was no noble, no one with a title or looking for a title. No one who had to negotiate or stay in bloody deals that brought nothing but irritation. His answer expressed it all in so few words, "And what is that?"

She smiled again, nodding at him, "You do precisely what you want to do. This city, these people, they are only a prison if you allow them to jail you, to hold you back. While I love our people, I realized long ago that it was far more important to love myself first and foremost. To put my needs first. Station, political power, all of that is temporary when you hold the power within yourself to grant your own desires."

He stared at her, considering her words, his next question partially fueled by the alcohol and partly by his frustration with everything that had happened the past few months with his family, with his station in life, "And what is it that you desire?"

Her smile melted into a smirk that some men would have died on their own swords for, her eyes trailing over the exposed muscles of his arm, "Why, everything of course. But I settle for my freedom first and foremost."

Freedom. That illusion that haunted him. His duties to his family, to his house, to his men, and unfortunately to Kyliska and her house bound him, restrained him. When was the last time he ran through the forest and hunted for the fun of it? Between fighting the Legion's forces, worrying over his men, their training and equipment, it was a never ending struggle. When had he last been free?

He nodded at her, at the wild thoughts she inspired in him to simply run away and abandon it all and be done with it, "That sounds like a wonderful dream for those who don't have responsibilities."

She laughed, the sound like a tinkling bell within the darkness of the shady tavern, "Responsibilities can only weigh you down if you let them. You should give yourself that freedom, even if only now and then. Take what you want."

He grimaced and nodded, grateful that she hadn't done something aggressive like lean forward and expose her cleavage. Instead she had sat back, and was just considering him for a time. When she spoke again, it was in a low tone, and with less playfulness, "You will never find what truly sets you free living in chains of your own making, or in the bottom of that bottle. Think about it for a time. What do you really want? It can be yours, the freedom can be yours, if you dare to reach for it. Maybe not today, maybe today you need that bottle, and perhaps one of my cigarettes, but the morning will come and you will need to decide if you want to get up and go back to your prison cell, or walk out of the door and into whatever you desire."

He took another long drink from the bottle before nodding at her, her words making a bit of sense to his surprise, "I will think on it. Maybe it is time that a change was made. Maybe there's a way, who knows. But...thank you. I didn't expect to talk to anyone this evening."

She smiled, shifting and rising slowly, her steps cat like as she came nearer and leaned over him. The scent of her perfume and that tinge of bloodthistle filled the air around him, almost enough to make his head spin when combined with the alcohol. She leaned forward, her breath a whisper against his ear and making his skin heat, "Well, that is what friends are for, isn't it? My name is Mirithel Embersky. Should you need help winning your freedom, come and find me. I hate to see such a strong soldier of Silvermoon struggling in bonds he could so easily snap with his power. In the meantime, let the bottle remind you of those prison walls. Think on it."

Her hand ran up his arm, making his blood heat further, and then she had slipped around him, heading for the door, the swaying of her hips setting the delicate cloth she wore to revealing her upper thighs with each movement. He watched her until she was gone, and then turned back to his bottle, shaking his head. Before him sat her ashtray and the long bloodthistle cigarette, still trailing smoke up from its lit end.

Maybe it is time I talk to my sisters about the threat Kyliska poses to the stability of our house. Maybe it's time I make them listen, and if they won't listen, then maybe it's time I get away from this. I'm sick to death of watching her destroy our family as she and her sister take theirs down. There is more to life than this.

He glanced back at the empty door where the other Sin'dorei had left, smirking as he picked up her cigarette and took a long pull from it. He could taste her lipstick on it, a citrous flavor that mingled with the alcohol and the bloodthistle to relax him for a time.

Tomorrow. Things would change tomorrow. He was sick to death of Kyliska and her family's plots and schemes. He would take his freedom, as Mirithel had suggested.

One way or another. 

Besties

Melsana carefully sighted down the length of the long metal barrel, the strange rifle in her hands held firm and steady. Within it, powerful arcane forces built up, the magic rising to a point where it would emit forth from the front of the rifle in a burst of energy akin to a physical projectile. With a whumph of sound the magic sprang forth, traveling across the courtyard to slam into the practice dummy with a satisfying blast.

The Huntress grinned, studying the weapon in her hand and inspecting it for signs of damage from the magic. The goblin that had sold it to her had not intended for it to be used this way, but she'd spent several days modifying it with enchantments to her exact specifications. While she could use a bow, it had been so long since the Huntress had actually hunted with one that she preferred to try new methods. Besides, it would be awkward if she were to practice with one and fail to compare to the other rangers, and new times demanded new methods.

"That works pretty well," Braeth'el said as he observed Melsana's practice. Beside him one of the ranger captains nodded, the red-haired Sin'dorei having been shouting commands at her all morning as he assessed her prowess. Other rangers worked at their own target dummies around the courtyard, each using various ranged weapons for this day's routine. The estate grounds were filled with the sounds of taut bowstrings and the snap of arrows in the air, punctuated now and then by Melsana's unique weapon.

As she prepared to take another shot, silence descended on the courtyard. She turned, lowering her weapon and brushing an errant strand of pure gold hair from her face as she observed the source of the disquiet that had descended.

The curtains to the open doors behind them had parted and a blonde haired elf had stumbled out, the woman looking rather belligerent as she stalked across the courtyard, the look on her face one of death. Clutched in one fist she had a mostly empty bottle of wine, which she brought to her lips and finished off directly from the bottle before hurling the object across the courtyard, watching it shatter against one of the stone walls surrounding the area.

Her summer dress ruffling in the light breeze, she marched the rest of the way to that same wall, hoisting herself up before sitting on it and looking out at the forest beyond sullenly, clearly sulking. As Melsana studied her, quiet whispers arose around her from the other rangers until the bark of several trainers got them focused once more on their work.

Melsana frowned, casting a glance at Braeth'el and completely ignoring her own trainer as she spoke loud enough to be heard, "Who's that?"

"That would be the Lady of this house, Kyliska Sunblade," Braeth'el said, looking over at Kyli with concern in his eyes.

"And what's her problem?" Melsana asked, her tone causing Braeth'el to turn his head back towards the Huntress.

"She...had a falling out with a good friend. Most days she is fine, but sometimes she gets sullen like this and spends the day in her cups. I've tried to help her through it but...well, the pain is still fresh and there is little for her to do to fix things," Braeth'el said quietly.

Melsana considered this, her striking green eyes traveling to where Kyliska perched on the wall. When she responded, her voice was loud enough to carry across the clearing, "Well, if she wants to sit and sulk like a coward maybe she should do it somewhere that real soldiers can't see her doing it. We have work to do and if she's going to be a prissy baby over a fight with a friend then she should do it inside, pampered by the servants."

Braeth'el's mouth gaped open and a deadly silence fell across the courtyard as everyone heard the words. On the wall, Kyliska's head turned slowly, her eyes narrowed in rage. It was as if Melsana had known exactly what to say to draw Kyliska's attention back to the real world. In the silence, everyone heard Kyliska as she hopped down from the wall, her fists clenched as she stormed across the courtyard, her face inches from Melsana's.

"What did you just say?"

Melsana stared her down, her look unimpressed, "You heard me."

Kyliska got even closer, her chest nearly touching Melsana's, her alcohol laced breath wafting over the other elf, "I will break you in half if you dare say another word."

A smirk passed across Melsana's face, as if she had seen this all a thousand times before and knew where it was heading, relished it even, "You could try..."

Kyliska's fist was swinging before Melsana finished speaking, the blow connecting with Melsana's left eye and rocking her head back. The Huntress burst into motion, her own fist coming up and giving Kyliska a hit to her upper body, rocking her sideways.

Kyliska growled in rage, throwing another punch which Melsana dodged, the Huntress stamping down on Kyliska's sandal and making her grunt as she ground her heel into the other's bare skin. She followed it up with a punch to the face that Kyliska managed to jerk back from enough that it only split her lip. Retaliating quickly, Kyliska's knee came up, slamming into Melsana's nethers and causing her to double over in pain, a few more punches to her chest rocking the Huntress.

Melsana grinned, wiping blood from her eye, her voice a purr, "Now that is how a warrior acts when they are down. But let's see what else you've got..."

Kyliska merely growled before hurling herself at Melsana, punching the other elf repeatedly in the face as they traded blows, both of them becoming more and more bloody.

Around the courtyard, no one dared move or interfere; no one had spoken to Kyliska like that while she'd been in one of her moods, and no one but Braeth'el had practiced with her. Everyone had been afraid to say anything, to do anything to upset the fragile balance of their Lady's emotions. Except this new hire, who they watched with awe as she and the Lady of the house beat each other to bloody pulps.

A lucky blow to Melsana's gut had her doubled over again and a second later, Kyliska pounced, slamming into Melsana and bowling her over. The two fell to the ground with an 'oof' of air escaping them, rolling and punching each other. In his shock, Braeth'el had not thought to step back, and the two fist-fighting elves quickly tumbled in his direction before he had time to think, their weight slamming into his legs and sending him cartwheeling sideways. He tumbled over them, tripping and then falling on his back, the sound of him hitting the pavement and the gush of surprised air escaping them punctuating even the sound of the fight. The two elves paused for a moment, their eyes wide as they realized what they were doing.

"I knocked my boss over," Melsana drawled from beneath Kyliska, the other elf's hands around her throat. "That's totally going to come out of my paycheck."

For a moment Kyliska said nothing, just staring down at the elf beneath her. The audacity of the woman like a splash of water to her face. Slowly, ever so slowly, a smirk spread across her face and in a low voice she replied, "Well, he's the Master at Arms, not legs apparently..."

A smile met a smile, two pairs of green eyes locked on each other for another moment before both burst out laughing, everyone else staring in stunned silence. From the ground, Braeth'el sat up, rolling his eyes, "I'm glad you find this amusing..."

Kyliska rose, standing over Melsana and offering her a hand up, her eyes straying to Braeth'el, "What is this bitch's name?"

Melsana took the offered hand, rising beside Kyliska, her voice full of amusement, "Melsana Featherwind, at your service. Good thing too, because you hit like a human girl."

Kyliska grinned, her face a mask of blood, Melsana's not much better, "Fortunately your face gives me a lot of places to practice. The question now is, how do you stave off the pain of battle?"

"Not by drinking that fancy crap you just had. Ale maybe though," Melsana purred back. "And then we could talk about who you really want to hit, and get started on doing it in a productive way, hmmm?"

Kyliska laughed again, linking arms with the Huntress, her eyes gleaming for the first time in many months as she lead her towards the open door, her voice trailing back over the dumbstruck elves they left behind, "You know, I'm already starting to like you. You know me so well. Ale it is!"

And with that they were gone, Braeth'el picking himself up and shooting Melsana's trainer a look that basically told him to never speak a word of this to anyone, ever, if he wanted to live, before he followed them inside with a long suffering sigh.

Finding Good Help These Days

Sunlight sparkled off the flashing blade as it descended towards Braeth'el's head. With a deft move his dagger came up, deflecting the blow away from him. The sword's path stopped abruptly, it's wielder sliding it back around to his right in a vicious counter-attack that forced him to dodge, the sound of his second dagger's hilt parrying the blow ringing through the courtyard.

In front of him, Kyliska panted, her blade coming up again and her own feet sliding backwards as she avoided a vicious slash to her belly. She growled and charged forward again, her blade coming down and the double ring of two daggers crossing its path to stop it singing across the marble paving stones of Dayfire Estate's practice yard. Kyliska laughed, the sound low and vicious as she pressed on Braeth'el's daggers, forcing him to put extra effort in keeping the blade from his head. Muscles bulged in his arms as he forced her blade up, her body slamming into his as their weapons went up over their head.

Pressed face to face, he grinned at her and she leaned forward, kissing him for a lingering moment, the mixture of violence and passion making her blood sing, their weapons hanging over their heads. After a time he released the pressure on her sword and she took it in one hand, letting it drop beside her as they kissed again, one of his arms snaking around her waist as he sheathed his daggers.

"That was fun," Braeth'el breathed into her ear. "We should practice indoors next time..."

Kyliska nearly purred, her smirking lips parting to say something truly outrageous when a polite cough from the open curtained door leading into the estate caught her attention. She turned to see one of the servants there, the poor Sin'dorei looking extremely uncomfortable as he shifted from foot to foot, observing the lady of the house in her training leathers and Braeth'el in his cut tank top and leathers embracing.

"Yes? What is it? We're really very busy right now," Kyliska nearly growled.

"T-there's a visitor, Lady Sunblade. Er.. for Master Braeth'el. He's needed for a short time only, I'm sure," the servant stuttered.

Braeth'el nodded at the elf, giving him a wink while expertly giving Kyliska a pinch on her bottom that made her squeak and then bite her lip. "Of course. Bring them to my office if you would. I'll be there in a moment."

Reluctantly he released Kyliska, picking up a towel and rubbing it over his face and neck to remove the sweat the practice had worked up. If a visitor wanted to show up unexpectedly, he was hardly going to dress to impress. He nodded at Kyliska as he headed for the door, "I'll see you later."

Kyliska grinned and nodded herself before turning back towards the practice yard and heading for a training dummy to work off her excess energy.

******************************

Braeth'el's office was simple yet elegant enough to be impressive by Sin'dorei standards. The hardwood desk had neat stacks of paper, and filing cabinets made of fine oak stood to the right of the desk. Behind it was an armoire, the top of the piece of furniture open to display a collection of elegant wine bottles. The office itself was carpeted in a deep red that matched the lighter red and gold motif of the walls and door, and sunlight streamed in from the closed window overlooking the woods.

Braeth'el was seated behind his desk in the high-backed chair there when the door opened and the servant reappeared. Behind him walked a golden haired beauty of a Sin'dorei that he'd never seen before. The servant gave him a bow once, his voice more solid now as he announced the guest, "Dame Melsana Featherwind to see you, Master Braeth'el."

Braeth'el waved the servant away, nodding his thanks; he always hated the use of titles but sometimes it was necessary when guests were around and some of the servants wouldn't stop even when they weren't. Master at Arms indeed.

The golden-haired Sin'dorei stepped into the office as the door closed behind her and Braeth'el studied her for a moment. Dressed head to toe in gold and red mail armor that looked like it had been poured over her body while molten, it left little to the imagination. Where Kyliska was athletic and toned, this elf was lithe and wiry although she curved in the same places as his lover. He could sense a restrained agility and grace in her movements that would rival many of his rangers. The only thing that marred her beauty was a vicious looking scar beneath her right eye, the flesh there a faded pink color from whatever had made the wound.

She gave him an unreadable look before she shifted in place, removing a sack that had been slung over one shoulder and dumping it on Braeth'el's desk. He noted that she was armed to the teeth with golden daggers, a red and gold spear, and some collapsible traps strapped to her red and gold belt.

He shifted in place, reaching out to take the sack's drawstrings, his voice a rumble, "What is this then?" His question was answered a moment later when severed demon heads tumbled out and onto his desk. He could see other heads in the recess of the bags; likely demonic felhunters. He looked back up at the elf, a brow perched.

"Your estate is overrun with these creatures," she replied in a musical voice. "I've taken care of them, but your own rangers need to do a better job if you don't want your manor house infiltrated. They are hunting for something or someone on this property."

Something or someone on the property... Braeth'el's suspicions were aroused, but not at the huntress and not for a topic he'd care to discuss with her. He studied her for a moment before replying, "And you want compensation for these I take it?"

The elf shrugged at him as if it didn't matter, and he found himself grinning at her boldness, "I don't really care. I hunt what needs to be hunted. Coin is always nice but I can make due without."

Braeth'el nodded; he liked this huntress immediately, "And whom do you work for?"

"I work for Quel'Thalas, for Silvermoon. I'm not 'employed' by anyone if that is what you are asking. I was a Farstrider for a time," she replied.

"I see. Well, you've certainly done us a service here, and I would certainly be willing to give you some coin as bounty. Further though, we could use a ranger of your capabilities amongst our forces. If you think you'd be interested in staying for a while, at least until the reason for this incursion is resolved, I'm authorized to hire staff for the House and estate," he replied.

She tilted her head, her hair like a golden curtain shimmering in the sunlight, her eyes boring into his unflinchingly. When she replied, he nearly laughed, "One hundred gold per week, plus accommodations and access to your armory for equipment repair as needed."

Braeth'el leaned forward and grinned, "Fifty a week, plus the rest."

"Eight-five or I will return to the woods," she countered smoothly.

Braeth'el nodded, enjoying himself, "Very well, it is agreed then. There is just one more thing..." He reached under his desk and pressed a magic rune, summoning the staff. "For security reasons we need to check you over."

She stiffened and then nodded, "Fine by me."

A moment later the door to the office opened and a black haired mage entered the room. Braeth'el nodded to him and then looked at Melsana, "Melsana, meet Rayleth. He is one of our apprentices here and he will be examining you."

Braeth'el leaned back in his chair, studying the golden-haired elf for a moment. There was not even a twitch on her face, not a hint of recognition. She merely nodded, her voice flat, "A pleasure. You're here to 'check me over' as Braeth'el just indicated?"

Braeth'el grinned; she hadn't even used his title, definitely someone to keep on staff. For his part, Rayleth merely nodded and then stuttered, "Y-yes, if you don't mind m-miss. I just need you to hold still..."

She nodded again and then stood where she was, her arms at her sides. Rayleth moved around her, leaning in close to study her face, his eyes lingering on that scar as if wondering what could cause such damage. His hands waved in the air in front of her as he chanted, magic trickling out across her. Her spear, her daggers, and the traps at her belt began to glow a brilliant blue color.

"Hmm, s-she has enchanted weapons, Master Braeth'el," Rayleth said nervously.

Braeth'el waved a dismissive hand, "Of course she does, she's a Sin'dorei. You know what we're looking for."

Rayleth nodded, stepping closer to the elf, his voice apologetic, "S-sorry I need to p-place my hands on you."

"Whatever. Just get it done would you?" Melsana rasped.

Rayleth nodded again, his hands on her shoulders, his fingers running down her arms while he chanted. He then moved to her sides, hands running down her hips. He paused for a moment, hesitating, his hands moving towards her belt as if something around her navel had attracted his attention but he didn't know what to do about it.

In all his life, Braeth'el had rarely seen someone move as fast as Melsana did. Her knee came up into Rayleth's crotch so hard and fast that he almost felt it. As Rayleth fell over, Melsana's hands grasped his hair and guided his face very un-gently towards the edge of Braeth'el's desk, the crack of his face hitting the wood echoing through the room. As Rayleth crumpled to the ground, Melsana's hands slammed on Braeth'el's desk, her voice furious, "You asked me to do a job as a huntress. I'm not working at a damned brothel for you. If that's what you think, find someone else!"

Braeth'el held up a hand to calm her, smirking in amusement as one of Rayleth's hands shakily clung to the edge of the desk, the apprentice slowly pulling himself upright. His nose was bleeding and his glasses were broken. When he spoke, it was with a wheezing wince that made Braeth'el cringe in sympathy, "S-she's got...no magic I can detect on her....other than...the weapons...."

Braeth'el nodded and then offered Melsana a smile, "You've passed our test. Congratulations, you're hired. You can meet with Andithiel, our ranger captain, for your assignment and quarters. I'll have someone show you the way."

Melsana stood upright, as if considering whether or not to walk out. After a moment she nodded, her voice clipped and sarcastic, "Fine. I will see you soon then, sir."

As she turned and strolled out of the room, stepping over the still crumpled Rayleth, Braeth'el could only chuckled to himself. That one was going to be trouble for sure, but certainly useful. And amusing.

The Huntress

*Eversong Woods, within the boundaries of Dayfire Estate*

The forest was silent, even the birdsong dulled and distant as the golden leaves of Eversong swayed in the breeze. The silence was telling, was a sign that all was not right within the forest. That creatures with no place in this world stalked through the tall brush and despoiled the fertile land beneath with their very tread.

In the silence, a pair of fel green eyes watched, looking out into the impenetrable foliage that surrounded the outer barriers of property that contained Dayfire Estate. The owner of the eyes had been motionless and silent for over an hour, her plans well laid, her traps set well in advance of the things that stalked the forest on this fine spring day. None knew she was there, although some might appreciate what she was about to do.

In the distance, a shriek rose up, abruptly cut off. The sound of a creature in mortal pain suddenly meeting its fate. It came from no throat of any denizen of Eversong though. The sound was foul, a growl of rage even in death that could only have come from the mouth of a demonic creature. Roars rose up after the initial sound faded, sounds of anger, of panic as another shriek echoed through the forest.

The owner of the fel green eyes was suddenly in motion, her lithe form darting between trees as if she were a breath of wind amongst them. Red and gold armor hugged her body, the metal artfully crafted as if by magic to hug her every curve while keeping in place and remaining silent. A gold and red stormcloak flowed out behind her as she leapt a bush, her golden hair cascading around her face as she landed with practiced ease. In her hand she carried a spear, the tip already bristling with the deadly magic enchanted within the haft, within the razor sharp metal point.

In the distance, the roars of rage turned into more shrieks as the second part of the Huntress's plan unfolded. The demonic felhunters that had entered the forest had already found her traps, and now they had found her pet. It was no beast, no creature from the forest that gave her its loyalty, instead it was a thing of magic, a manawyrm with razor sharp teeth and a pearl colored opalescence that sparkled in the light. She saw it as she cleared the last of the foliage between her and her prey, the magical creature's jaws clamped on the demonic throat of the last of the three felhunters, feeding off of its magic as the felhunter might do to a mage.

Beside it were two Eredar, their eyes wide and raging as they brought weapons up. Two more felhunters lay dead, caught in traps made of arcane magics that had torn them asunder as soon as they had closed, tiny little fires still burning around and on their corpses. One of the Eredar brought his staff up, about to cast a spell when the Huntress's spear drove through his back and out of his chest, his black, corrupt blood spattering the forest floor. The tip of the spear flared with magic, a spell within the haft sending flaming arcane power roaring through the doomed creature. He screamed, for a moment, before the spear was torn out of his back in a shower of black gore, already dead before he crumpled to upon the golden leaves on the ground.

The second Eredar growled, slashing at the Huntress with a sword before dodging away and into the forest beyond. He was no fool; he'd seen what she had done to their three felhunters, to his companion. He knew that he had to win free to call up reinforcements if his task was to be completed. For her part, the golden-haired Sin'dorei merely brought her spear up, deflecting the slash and falling back on her heel as the Eredar turned and fled. The manawyrm growled, releasing the dead felhunter and preparing to give chase when the Huntress held up her hand to silence it.

"No, Spellsong. This one is mine," the Huntress purred, her voice like a sultry song in the still forest. The thrill of the hunt was within her now. The feeling of power, of revenge against the creatures. It would not be long now before her spear drank again and the magic within it tasted another victim.

The manawyrm gave a small purring noise, turning to continue feasting on the fallen felhunter as the Huntress moved swiftly after her fleeing foe. It was clumsy, its footfalls cracking every twig, every branch. Her long, tapered ears could hear it breathing, hear its almost silent curses as the bushes seemed to claw at it, to pull it back and slow it down. She could feel it, feel its presence as a dark stain within the forest's heart, her magic drawn to it as it was to hers. They were fated to meet, had always been fated to meet, would always return to that meeting again and again it seemed, each time a little different.

She found it in a clearing a moment later, its path blocked by fallen boulders. Not enough time for it to escape it seemed. She slowed her pace, grinning as she readied her spear. The Eredar spun, sword in hand and a curse on its lips, "You cannot win here, foolish mortal! We will claim the blood that we came for, and you will die by my hands."

She said nothing, wasted no time or effort on words. She'd said enough words over the years, done enough talking. Those days were done now, were past. She didn't need to justify, to pretend, to be anything other than the Huntress, whose hand held the enchanted spear, whose body tensed as it remembered movements learned long ago.

She dove forward, and the Eredar brought its sword up. Slowly, oh so slowly. Almost too slow. The spear narrowly missed its face, grazing a gouge out of a cheek as the sound of fel-tainted steel hitting the enchanted haft of the spear rang through the clearly. The Huntress grinned; she hadn't missed, she was toying with it for a moment.

The Eredar began to chant, and her grin faded. No spells. Spells were for another distant time in the past, another place, not for this mortal dance between them. The spear swung around again, crashing into the side of its head, the enchantments on it making it move so quickly he hadn't had time to block. He stumbled sideways on his clumsy hooves, the spear's haft coming down to entrap his ankles and trip him.

As he fell to the ground, she relished in the sound of his bellowed curses, in the feel of her body, the speed and agility. It had not always been like this, and her magic had not always been put to such uses. It was fresh and new and gave her a rush the likes of which she'd not felt in forever. As he tried to rise, she brought the spear's point down, slamming into his chest and pinning him to the earth.

Black blood foamed from his mouth as he struggled there, pinned like an insect. She stood over him, graceful and triumphant, a smile gracing her lips again. He struggled to choke out words, to curse her, the sounds barely heard, "You...will not stop us....we will have them, and make them suffer....."

She glanced down at him, the sunlight beginning to dance across the clearing as a cloud moved away, the amber light glimmering on her scaled armor, on the gold, on her flowing hair. The Eredar's eyes widened for a minute as understanding dawned at the moment of his destruction, his voice a whisper now, "You... We'll come again and again....we'll have our revenge...."

She smiled, the sunlight striking her face. Glittering in her hair. Illuminating the scar on her cheek beneath her right eye, her voice a venomous hiss as she twisted the spear and ended his life, "Then I'll be here waiting for you. Forever." 

First Blood

The cart jerked as it hit another rut in the road, most of the passengers unconcerned by the brutal beating the axles were taking. Sitting in the rear of the wooden conveyance and thankfully far from the smell of kodo, Lagasha Wolfclaw found herself needing to grasp the cart's sides to avoid falling out onto what passed for a transportation route through the barrens.

The trip had been a long one, and for the young shaman, an exciting one. She'd only traveled once in her life and that had been at a very young age when she'd fled one of Lordaeron's internment camps with her parents. Born in such a place and then living only in Durotar, she'd grown up on tales of the wider world of Azeroth and even of the homeworld of her people, Draenor. Tales full of honor, glory, and pride in one's clan and people. Tales that had, eventually, been tarnished by the gruesome acts committed by her own father under Garrosh's leadership.

She turned, brushing some of her long, flame red hair from her face as she glanced at the other passengers in the cart. Most were orcs like her, with a tauren or two mixed in. All were headed towards the distant Crossroads where Lagasha hoped she would be able to put her budding skills with the elements to use helping the people there. She looked away from the other passengers, glancing out over the endless distance of the barrens, her hands subconsciously playing with one of the stone fetishes attached to her belt. Although the lands were beautiful, the trip was long and boring, with little more than the jingle of the scales of her mail armor to keep her company. Certainly the others weren't interested in speaking to a new blood out on her first adventure when they had several months of boring guard duty to contemplate instead.

Unfortunately, her long and silent vigil at the rear of the cart was suddenly interrupted as a cry arose from the front of the three cart caravan. Although there were many dangers in the barrens, no one expected to encounter any so close to the outskirts of the Crossroads and Lagasha found herself more curious than nervous as her cart suddenly veered to one side. In the brief snatches of sight she had off the side of the road, she noted a particularly thick flock of plainstriders hurrying past; clearly they had managed to get in the way and the carts were diverting around them.

All was not as it seemed however, as soon as the cart bearing Lagasha had left the road, an unearthly howl arose and arrows began to fill the air. The lead cart came to a halt as its driver was slain, the second cart stopping shortly and preventing the third from returning to the track. Moving at high speed, it struck a rut and then a deeper, deliberately dug trench, the wooden axle snapping and the cart tipping over, dumping its occupants in the tall grasses to the side of the path.

Lagasha found herself in brief flight ending in a brutal shock as she contacted the ground. For a time she lay there, dazed and not truly understand what had happened, her shield and mace scattered about her where they had fallen. Other bodies lay around her, and in a haze of pain she saw her arm in front of her face. Dimly she flexed her green fingers, watching in satisfaction as they began to move again, the stinging pain in her arm and hip beginning to fade and her heart beginning to pound as the sounds of combat rose up all around.

She lifted her head from the dirt, eyes widening as the form of stunted boar-men rushed through the grasses towards the fallen. Already the second cart crackled with flames, the raiding quilboars having set it alight with fire-arrows. The boar men rushed towards them, screaming in their high pitched squeals, axes ready as they slammed into the dazed orcs who attempted to rise and defend themselves.

From her place on the ground, Lagasha watched her first battle in shock and horror. Here an orc took an arrow to his chest, falling as quilboar rushed towards him. There a tauren was struck from behind by an axe, his great size and strength meaning little when taken unaware. Blood, red red blood, flowed from horrible wounds the likes of which she'd only heard tales of. Fear raced through her, leaving a chill up her spine.

And yet, deep within her, her mind railed at her to get up and fight. She'd lived her whole life listening to tales of valor and daring. Her ancestors had fought and died in savage wars, had gained honor and glory for her family that had been smeared by the cowardly actions of her father. Would she continue in his footsteps, bringing shame to her ancestors once more? Would she let these beasts cut down orcs and their allies who had volunteered and were now sacrificing their lives for the Horde?

She felt a tremor in the ground as the elements coaxed her upwards and onwards. Here was a worthy cause they seemed to say. Here was an acceptable use of their great power in the defense of others. Painfully she pushed herself up, dirt and grasses falling away from her chain skirts as she wobbled and managed to snatch up her shield and mace. Ahead of her, several quilboar turned, seeing her standing and veering towards her to cut her down.

She didn't think, she couldn't think. The fear was too strong, the desire to flee too great. All she could do was listen to the song of the elements that was raging within her now, all she could feel was the anger that the quilboars had inspired in her. She brought her hands up, and the elements came to her at her calling.

The first in the line of quilboars was struck by a shock of lightning, the boar-man's face contorting into a shocked look as he was hurled backwards, a smoking hole in his leather armor. Others dodged past him, flinching as the heavens above crackled with thunder. Big fat blobs of rain began to fall here and there, as if the sky itself was bitterly scolding them for their audacity. Lagasha concentrated, the song of the elements flowing through her now, making her heart sing with it. Lightning lashed out again, another of the creatures falling.

The third reached her, its axe coming down to strike her. Instincts took over, her shield shifting and catching the blow, the impact making even her sturdy orcish arm numb. Her mace came up, the head trailing flames as it struck the creature, the elements exploding over it and sending it reeling backwards, its body alight. More of the creatures appeared in the edges of the tall grasses, bows strung and ready, watching warily as their flaming companion squealed and ran off into the distance. Lagasha knew she had little time, and spent none embracing the horror that still raced through her mind. She pointed and the elements jumped to action, lightning slashing out again and again, searing the grass and sending the would-be archers fleeing, minus several of their number.

It went on for what seemed like hours, but was really only minutes at best. Again and again she called upon her power. Here water touched a fallen orc, easing his pain. There the earth cracked, sending boar-men stumbling and then fleeing into retreat. It was not until the battlefield grew quiet that Lagasha even realized it was over, or that she had been the only one defending that side of the caravan.

As silence descended, her pounding heart began to quiet, and she stared out across a field burned by fires and cracked by falling rock. The still forms of quilboars lay amongst the debris of battle, while here and there an orc stirred in pain on the ground. She heard cries from the other side of the caravan, but no sounds of combat; clearly the raiding beasts had had enough losses and had withdrawn.

Lagasha felt like her body was someone else's as she returned her shield to its place on her back and her mace to her hip. She wandered amongst the fallen, offering comfort and what little healing the elements deemed to provide. It was not until the others began to thank her, began to praise her valor and strength in battle that it dawned on her that she'd even been in a battle. That she had fought with honor and glory as in the tales she'd grown up with.

Later on, as she sat on the edge of one of the carts, watching the others as they prepared to move out once more, she reflected on just how much fear there had been, and how difficult it had been to act. No one had ever told her about such feelings. No one had ever discussed how absolutely terrifying battle could be. Her entire idea of honor was changed forever, knowing just what warriors faced when they stepped into battle knowingly. As the caravan moved out and dusk began to color the sky above in vibrant pinks and purples, Lagasha sat silently, swearing to whatever spirits could hear her that she would remember this day, remember the fear so that she would always know the true meaning of honor, and know the difference between when it was worth it to fight, and then the fighting lead to horror and bloodshed without purpose.

A lesson her father had never learned, but one his daughter would keep in her heart as she lent her aid to the Horde in the years to come. She would make up for the shame he had given their family, and restore honor to her ancestors by remembering their lessons and living as they had lived.

Life Lessons

You never truly forget your first love...

***********************************************

*Zin-Azshari, long before the Sundering*

A thrill of excitement ran through Kerriel Spellfury as she examined her reflection in the mirror hung in the foyer of the Moonwhisper estate. She'd spent hours obsessing with Malandrae over the perfect dress to wear, the perfect arrangement of her long silver hair, and the perfect makeup to accentuate her features. The beautiful young elf staring back at her with silver eyes in the mirror was exactly what she wanted to be, who she wanted to be for the night.

Beyond the foyer, the murmur of many voices could be heard, the celebration already started. As Kerriel moved further into the interior of the lavish estate, Malandrae's voice cut through the noise of the revelers, her greeting exuberant as it always was, "Kerriel! Kerriel! You've finally arrived! Oh my heavens, you look gorgeous!"

As Kerriel was embraced by her lifelong friend, she smiled to herself, knowing that no matter how nicely she dressed herself, Malandrae would always be more beautiful. The youngest Moonwhisper scion was always the focus of attention, always the one getting love letters from suitors. It didn't bother Kerriel one bit however, because Malandrae was happy and her friend's happiness was like an aura that touched all around her. As they separated, Kerriel's reply was warm, "Not as gorgeous as you, Mal. I just hope that I'm presentable enough beside you!"

"Oh don't be silly, you look amazing. Oh! I totally forgot to tell you! My brother came home early from his trip visiting our outer holdings. He's already arrived for mother's party!," Malandrae said with a smile.

Kerriel felt her face flush deep purple at this, her crush on the eldest Moonwhisper brother a well known secret between them. Before she could respond, Malandrae grabbed her hand, pulling her through the crowd of Highborne elves towards a bar stocked with the most expensive wine that members of Azshara's court could get their hands on. Everywhere Kerriel looked, there was expensive jewelry, fine clothing, and false smiles as games of politics played out even during Viala Moonwhisper's birthday celebration.

After making their way through the crowd with a few murmured greetings, Malandrae parked Kerriel firmly near the bar, gesturing for her to stay put while she went to get them a drink. Kerriel found herself eyeing the crowd with a bit of shyness; although her own family was ranked highly amongst the city's nobility, she was young enough yet that she'd not fully begun to play the political games that were going on all around her. She knew enough not to dare interfere though, and contented herself with watching the gathering while she waited for her friend.

A voice made her turn as her name was spoken aloud, "Kerriel! Malandrae said she'd invited you. I'm so glad you decided to come."

Kerriel's eyes drank in the sight of the speaker, a thrill going up her spine as Ketheran Moonwhisper stepped closer to her, two drinks in his hands. He wore something that resembled a white toga, his powerfully muscled form barely contained within the wrapped cloth. His movements were the very definition of restrained power, and his long, deep blue hair crowed his head and flowed down his back like a mane. As he stepped closer, his smile became all of her world, his deep purple skin and bright amber eyes accentuating the expression. Kerriel was enchanted, completely oblivious to the world for a moment, even to the somewhat envious glares that were shot her way by a few of the other party-goers. Her mouth opened and closed and finally she managed to squeak out a response, "K-ketheran! It's so nice to see you again. You've been gone so long on your journey! Mal and I totally cannot wait to hear about your adventures."

His smile widened, and he leaned forward, handing her one of the wine glasses he was holding. As she reached out to take it, their fingertips touched briefly, sending a thrilling spark through her body. His voice was deep and inviting as he replied, "It is particularly good to see you again I must say. I can honestly say I've missed much since I've been gone. That dress is absolutely lovely on you, Kerriel."

She nearly squeaked in response, the wineglass coming up to her lips as a means to quell her nervousness. His smile never faltered as he brought his own wineglass up, his gaze holding hers in a moment that would electrify her thoughts for days to come.

******************************************************

*On the grounds of Moonwhisper Estate, weeks later*

 Kerriel laughed as water rained down on her head, her own hands lashing out and sending magic through the water, causing a small wave to crash down over Malandrae. Her friend laughed hysterically, quickly diving under the water and away from Kerriel. In the distance, their other friends laughed and played within the large bathing pools on House Moonwhisper's expansive grounds.

Malandrae smirked, giving Kerriel a wink before darting away from her through the water and towards their other friends, the embodiment of mischief itself as she moved. Kerriel laughed again, turning around to move into the more shallow side of the pools where a beautiful waterfall rained down in the moonlight. As she turned, she nearly collided with the solid form of Ketheran, who had apparently joined his younger sister and her friends unannounced.

His arms reached out to catch her so as to avoid knocking her over, and for a moment, Kerriel was staring up into his eyes, held in his strong grip, her heart racing in her chest. As he stared down at her, she felt a thrill run through her again as her body reacted before her mind could catch up. Her eyes closed and her head titled back and upwards, her lips meeting his, the gesture returned. It was the most blissful thing that had ever happened to her, the kiss better than she could have even dreamed. She held it, held herself against his half-naked body in the pools, letting it echo endlessly through her, the world around her forgotten as her mind reveled with joy.

He feels the same way!

*******************************************************

*On a balcony of House Spellfury's spire, early dawn. Many months later.*

She'd stayed up late, thinking and experimenting with her magic as she typically did. Her parents had long since retired for the coming day, and she stood on her balcony, her luxurious bedchambers through a pair of curtained double doors behind her. As she stared at the glimmering light of the coming dawn, she heard a noise along the balcony's edge and smiled.

As he always did, Ketheran climbed up to the balcony by means of vines that grew up the spire's side. He grinned as he saw Kerriel, the emotion infectious. She ran to him, wrapping her arms around him, her skirts swirling around their legs as he embraced her. They kissed passionately, their romance a secret held between them for all the time since that day in the pools. After the kiss ended, she leaned her head against his chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat. His arm wrapped around her, holding her as they watched the sunrise together, her hands running across the chiseled muscles of his stomach.

"Ketheran?" she said softly.

"Yes, my Moonlight," he responded quietly.

"I love you," she said, the words almost a soft breath coming from her. It was the first time she'd ever admitted it aloud, but she'd known all along.

"I love you as well, Kerriel Spellfury, now and forever," he replied.

She smiled, wrapping her arms around him again and holding him tight, her heart light and filled with joy as the day's first sunlight crept across the balcony. As the sunlight grew, she felt him shift and she squeaked with amusement as he swept her off her feet and lifted her up. She smiled up at him, her arms wrapped around his neck now as their lips met in a sweet kiss. He grinned at her, the look in his eyes now filled with a more primal urge, a hunger that she felt mirrored in her own soul. She nodded at him softly and winked, and he turned, carrying her from the balcony and towards the open double doors leading into the bedchambers beyond.


**********************************************************

*Three years later, in the forests surrounding House Spellfury's grounds. Full Daytime.*

She trembled, her heart racing in her chest and anxiety clawing at her. The sound of a twig snapping caused her to whirl around, and she exhaled sharply as she saw Ketheran approaching. He'd made the noise on purpose she knew; he would ordinarily have been utterly silent. As he drew nearer, she found her hands clasped together tightly, her long manicured nails almost gouging the palms of her hands.

"Kerriel, I got your message. What's wrong beloved?" Ketheran said in a soft voice. Just his tone and concern set her at east somewhat. Surely he would understand? Surely he would help her?

"K-Ketheran...I-I have something I have to tell you..." Kerriel began slowly, the words choking in her throat. "I-it's not...it's not good. I-I don't know what to do but I have to tell you and I'm so sorry and-"

He silenced her by stepping closer and embracing her, his hands running through her long silver hair, "Shhhh, it's okay Kerri. Just tell me what happened. Whatever it is, we will face it together."

A sob escaped her as she buried her face in his chest, "I'm just afraid you will hate me when I tell you."

"You know I could never do that, my Moonlight," he said softly. "Just tell me."

She took a deep breath, finally summoning the courage to look up at him, her voice still weak, "I...I'm with child, Ketheran. Your child."

His eyes widened for a minute, but he didn't frown or back away, "Are you certain?"

"As certain as the sun will set and a new night will begin. Please...please don't hate me," she begged.

Ketheran sighed and then embraced her, his voice soothing, "I could never hate you, my Moonlight. This will complicate matters as our relationship has not been approved, but we will find a way to work around this."

Relief flowed through Kerriel, and she sighed softly, wrapping her arms around him. He hadn't rejected her. She would survive whatever was to come with him by her side. "I love you so much, Ketheran."

He didn't reply, instead holding her tightly and squeezing her, his hands running through her hair again to soothe her. Around them, the sounds of the forest continued on, oblivious to the drama unfolding.

*******************************************************

*Seven months later, within Azshara's Court.*

Her head was bowed in shame as she walked the length of the long chamber. Around her there were murmurs from the crowds of elves, much of the noble families of the court having turned out to watch the proceedings. As she passed them, Kerriel could hear their words, even softly spoken.

"Slut."
"Whore of the court, isn't she?"
"Can you imagine? What a little tramp she is."
"It's really unthinkable. I would disavow her if she was my daughter."

The words hurt, but not as much as what had already been done. As she reached the end of the chamber, she looked up at the raised platform where the Magister sat, the elf staring down at her darkly. Her pleas to the Queen had fallen on deaf ears, and her case had been shunted aside and given to a lower ranking Court official to handle. He brought a gavel down, the sound stilling the murmurs that had continued throughout the chamber.

"Kerriel Spellfury, you are brought before this court on charges of slander against a valued member of the Queen's Court. Your foul accusations leveled at an heir of House Moonwhisper have been heard by many and are an insult not only to their line but to the Light of Lights herself. You are to be given one last chance to make amends for your words, before I judge you for your many other offenses. How do you plead?" the Magister asked.

Kerriel's head came up, her silver hair falling around her face as she stared up at him. On either side of him were her accusers, most of House Moonwhisper having turned out for the event. Prominent amongst them was Ketheran and his parents. Her own parents stood off to the side, their gazes not meeting hers as she looked at them pleadingly. She'd been abandoned by all she loved, all perhaps except Malandrae who had refused to come to the proceedings. She cleared her throat, her voice sounding hollow, "Ketheran Moonwhisper is the father of the child I bear. I will not recant my statements."

The crowd of watching nobles broke into loud whispers, rumor and shock passing through them. The presiding Magister had to slam his gavel many times to silence them. When all sound had faded, he glared down at her. Her hands came to  rest on her distended, pregnant belly, her eyes meeting his as he pronounced his judgment, "As you continue to speak lies about the heir of one of the Queen's most trusted allies, your punishment must be severe indeed. For false accusations against House Moonwhisper, you are to be banished from this city as soon as the child is born. You and your heirs shall no longer bask in Her light, and will travel far from this place so as not to insult her with your countenance again. For your transgressions of laying with a commoner, which it has been determined you have done based on Ketheran Moonwhisper's testimony, you are stripped of your rank and titles. Go now and prepare for your exile, and let your downfall be a lesson to all of those who would think to challenge the order of Her Court."

As Kerriel turned and walked away, the murmurs rose up again, the names raining down on her foul and unjust. She held her head high though, not looking at any of them as she walked slowly from that place, as regally as she could in her pregnant state. They were beneath her now, they were the past. Her heart had already been torn out by the betrayal of her beloved, and no punishment could ever compare to the painful lesson she'd just learned.

Two months later she would give birth, with Malandrae Moonwhisper the only one brave enough to stand by her side. A month after that she would walk through the gates of Zin-Azshari for the last time, her newborn baby Elisandrae in her arms, never to step foot in that city again.

**************************************************

*Current Day, Stormwind.*

Biara shook her head, the memories fading and a frown crossing her features. She sat on one of the new benches within the area of Stormwind where a memorial had been built for the fallen King. Across from where she sat, some distance away, members of the archaeological group she'd joined talked with one another. She watched them for a time, too far away to hear them, her eyes lingering on a tall, masked elf amongst them. He said something and a few of the others laughed, their smiles bringing a half-smile to her own lips for a brief moment.

She rose, her mind a whirl of conflicting emotions. She watched them for a moment longer, whispering words of magic and slowly fading into the comfort of invisibility, free to walk alone with her thoughts.

Despite all she'd been through, all she'd learned about love, her heart had never died that day in Zin-Azshari. It still beat on, year after year, century after painful century. No matter what she did to make it be still.

Perhaps she was a fool, or maybe it was part of being alive that the harshest lessons never fully touch what is deep within us. Whatever the case, she knew only that her heart would lead her into trouble again, and it was almost thrilling to think that there was nothing she could do to stop it; that there was one little piece of her that was still the young girl of old.