After being blackmailed into taking a position in the Alliance's new assimilation program, Aileen is sent to Kalimdor as an ambassador for the Alliance with a fellow hunter as her guide. Together they travel the length of Kalimdor, seeking to diminish any prejudices between the people of the Eastern Kingdoms and the ancient elves who are their newest allies. However, all is not so simple. Along the way they face challenges of all kinds, from culture clash to factional warfare. Yet despite all this, and the circumstances that forced her here, Aileen soon finds that she has more in common with the Night Elves than she ever did with humans. Especially as Othailos begins to guide not only her way, but also her heart.
Takes place during early vanilla WoW.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but my original characters.
Prologue
Aileen Hunter, whose true last name had been forgotten since her days at the orphanage in Duskwood, stood in her cloud of awkwardness before her new, gargantuan companion, her silver haired guide. She was among the first few to be sent into the great Alliance's assimilation program, designed for the flowing of cultures, the blending of peoples, the easing of tensions throughout both the domestic and political worlds. They'd chosen terribly, she thought to herself yet again as she stared up into the face of Othailos Evenmist. She'd spent the last eleven years almost entirely alone in the wilds of Duskwood. She was as socially awkward as a feral dog who'd been suddenly adopted. She was hardly diplomat material.
But she fit all the other requirements for the last position to be filled on the list of those needed in Kalimdor to smooth things over between the Night Elves and their Eastern Kingdoms counterparts.
Three days ago a bedraggled courier had appeared on her doorstep, shambling out of the misty forests of Duskwood like one of the ghouls. He was young, with a wild mop of curly red hair and a million freckles that told her he spent most of his days in the sun and was most certainly not a native of the cursed forest she called home. She invited him in, out of the moldy gloom of the forests, and sat him down in a chair by the fire with a bowl of berries and a spoon as she read over the letter.
The letter had been nothing but a request by the members of the Night Watch to appear in Duskwood's rickety little capital in two days. She'd suspected that they might offer her work as they'd done in the past, request that she take care of a pack of particularly rabid wolves or clear out the undead that had trickled too close to the dim lights of Darkshire. Never had she suspected to be sent off to Stormwind for some mysterious, classified meeting scheduled to take place in only a few hours time. She'd also never ridden on anything other than a horse before, so a perilous gryphon ride to the Alliance capital city was equally unexpected and just as unsettling. At least the ride gave her eyes time to adjust to the brightness of the sun.
There was a set of armor-clad guards waiting for her when she landed at midday and for a moment, as they took her by the arm and hauled through the express security checklane to enter the city, she wondered if she was going to be locked up. By the time they reached Stormwind Keep, she was thoroughly shaken up and nowhere near ready for a meeting of any sort. Yet there was no time to wait, apparently, because just as she'd taken in the stone halls of the keep, she was lead into a small room.
The door was shut and locked and the two guards who had accompanied her took their places on either side of it. There was a small table, more of a desk really, in the center of the room and three chairs, two of which were occupied. She seated herself in the empty one, beginning to feel more and more like she was suspected of committing some terrible crime.
The two people, a middle-aged man and woman, looked up at her with faint smiles that neglected to put her at ease in any way. She was hardly accustomed to being around people, and most certainly not people she hadn't met at least once before, and this day had proven to be glaringly stressful already. As the pair uttered their "hellos" and "welcomes" she resisted the urge to snap at them to get on with it, her nerves were already beyond fried and it was only the midafternoon.
What they had to say in the following hour only made everything worse.
After brief introductions- their names were already forgotten- they slipped a packet of papers across the table to her. "Take your time," the woman had said. Aileen didn't, the very first page sent anger and fear flying through her. There was a small introductory paragraph on the Alliance's aspirations for a brighter future that she skipped over after the first sentence. Then came the lengthy paragraph emphasising her importance in their mission and her "duty to the Alliance"- which she scoffed at and skimmed over the details, foregoing the frivolous wording. Thankfully, and unfortunately, the third paragraph finally explained what the aforementioned mission actually was. An assimilation program… In Kalimdor?!
They wanted her to join an assimilation program with the intention of "infiltrating Night Elven society through connecting with the citizens, focusing on rural areas." She'd just barely finished that sentence and already she was passing the papers back to them.
"You're out of your mind. I am the worst choice for this." She said as they took the papers and returned them to their folder.
To her surprise, rather than reacting with anger, the woman actually laughed. "Now hang on," She said, folding her hands on the table as she relaxed, "If you had bothered to finish reading the packet, you would have learned that you actually fit all of the required fields and more. In fact, because of the fact that you'd be specializing in rural towns and outposts, you're a near-perfect fit. Socially a bit rough around the edges, sure, but nothing a few days with some company can't fix."
Aileen bristled at the mention of company. She didn't want company, she wanted the quiet of her cabin in the forest, the simplicity of the life she already had. Who was this woman to assume that she could adjust so easily? These people had only just met her…
"A near-perfect fit?" She quoted, "How could you possible know that? I've spent less than half an hour in your company." She tried to keep her tone steady, but there was only so much she could take in a day. Since childhood she'd been naturally shy, something that only contributed to the isolating conditions she'd already been living in as an orphan. She had no family, without friends she'd had no one. She still had no one...
The man spoke then, interrupting her thoughts. "It's not so much a matter of personality. Your qualifications come in the form of experience and physical advantages."
Beside him, the woman nodded. "You've spent your whole life in a place that is fairly similar to the climate where you'd be working in Kalimdor, as similar as you can get in the Eastern Kingdoms, that is. You're accustomed to living a life of isolation in a dark forest- a life that many Night Elves live. Your body and mind will be able to handle that type of environment and lifestyle, an advantage over most of our other ambassadors. In addition to this, you are a huntress of exemplary skill- even your last name testifies to that. This gives you the ability to survive, and perhaps even thrive, under harsh conditions during travel. Like I said, you're a near-perfect fit."
"And if you're truly worried that your personality or lack of social skill are an issue, I'd actually say it's yet another advantage." Aileen was beginning to grow sickened by that word. "You already have so much in common with their way of life and your coldness only adds to it. From what I've heard, Night Elves are a reserved bunch, aloof and distanced. You should find it perfect."
Coldness. They thought her cold. As if they had any right to do so, whether she was or not. She shook her head, there was no sense in letting this go any further. She'd been here long enough and they needed to know that she had no intentions of pursuing this request. She would decline the offer once more and go home, retreat back into her little hole in the woods and continue on with what she'd been busy with for the past couple of weeks- stocking up for winter.
"I'm sorry but this just isn't a good fit. Even if I was the ambassador type, I cannot just leave. I have a life. I have things to do, Winter to prepare for, repairs to make on my house-"
"-You mean on the house that was previously abandoned and that never belonged to you in the first place. The little cottage northwest of Darkshire that, even if it was under your name, you've never paid property taxes on, the house that the governing forces in Stormwind or even Darkshire could seize from you at any time they see fit?" The woman was spoke again, hands still folded, faint smile still on her lips. Aileen was frozen.
"I- But no one had lived there for years. I assumed that it was nobody's, empty…And taxes… My goodness, I was fifteen when I found the place, I'd never even thought of taxes!" Fury and fear turned her cheeks pink and the woman's eyes narrowed as Aileen's widened.
"All the same," The woman continued, "We've already sent a warrant of seizure to Darkshire by gryphon. They're to send a band of Night Watch to seize your home tomorrow morning unless we reach an arrangement by sundown today."
She and her partner let the words sink in as Aileen sat and stared down at her clenched fists. How could this be happening?
"You may want to reconsider your outlook on our offer for the position. You've already turned it down, but rest assured that it still stands." The veiled threat in the woman's voice was darker than any cold night in Duskwood despite that insistent, now almost arrogant, little smile on her face.
The man retrieved the packet from the folder and slowly slid it across the table to her once more just as one of the candles on the desk went out. With eyes well adjusted to darkness, Aileen watched the woman reach over and relight it with only her fingertips. A mage. At this revelation, it made the wretched woman seem even more formidable.
"Why?" Aileen asked, "Why have you singled me out? I lived there for eleven years and never once did anyone threaten me like this. Eleven years without a single complaint. Why now? Why go to such lengths to fill one position?"
The woman met her gaze as light filled the room and for a split second the smile was gone. "The Alliance needs to expand if it's going to survive in the world we live in. In order to expand we must forge relationships with our allies and to do that we need people. There are few people willing, let alone capable, of heading off into foreign lands and contested territories to spend a year with another race, but it must be done. We're doing what we must to protect our people and our home, just as you are. Sometimes that means sacrifices."
Aileen nodded ever so slightly, hating her just a little less in that moment. She was just doing her job, what she had to, she reminded herself. Still she found it impossible to truly accept everything that was happening. Afterwards, she sat there staring down at the papers in her hand and the blue lion's head stamped into the upper right corner, willing it to catch fire and burn up in her fingers.
"All the details are in the packet," The man finally broke the silence. "I suggest you read the whole thing thoroughly."
"You'll have plenty of time to do so on your way to Theramore. You'll be traveling by boat from Menethil Harbor. Your guide is opposed to traveling by portal. As is the case with many Night Elves, he believes arcane magics to be treacherous and misfortunate. I will, for the sake of time, be opening a portal to the harbor for you though. That is, if you are not also opposed to magic?"
She shook her head, still too shocked and dismayed to say anything more, and they all stood. The guards unlocked and opened the door and once back in the halls of the keep, Aileen fought the urge to flee, wondering if she could dissolve into the crowded city streets fast enough to escape. As the woman worked to open the portal, the very air itself tearing open, the image of swampland and seashore appearing within the tear, she could only look upon this place in disgust. She was suddenly very eager to leave Stormwind behind.
Finally the portal was set. "The boat to Theramore leaves tomorrow morning. You will find your guide within the Deepwater Tavern. His name is Othailos Evenmist."
As she stared into the portal, Aileen suddenly found her mind flooded with questions. "Wait," She hesitated, shuffling where she stood. "Everything I own is in Duskwood. My clothes and personal belongings, I don't even have documentation for travel- I legally shouldn't be here if not for the official letter and the two guards." She shot them a glance. "And my house, who will watch over it while I'm gone?"
"As we said, everything is in the packet," The woman huffed impatiently, "But if you must know, the Night Watch will be keeping tabs on your house and belongings, your guide has the proper documentation for you with him, and clothing and travel supplies will be distributed to you when you reach Theramore Isle. At least you have your bow with you," She gestured to the weapon secured to the young huntress's back. With all of the panic racing through her mind, Aileen had forgotten it was even there. She reached up and clutched the strap of her quiver as if it were her lifeline, the familiar leather easing her anxiety.
"Now please step through the portal, it won't stay open forever."
Aileen took one last reproachful look around the Stormwind keep and stepped through the already wavering portal.
The sensation was like nothing she'd ever experienced. Her body seemed to fold in on itself, an incredible weight and pressure forming in both her belly and her brain as she was moved through space. Her ears plugged and soon she found that she couldn't open her eyes even if she tried, it was as if someone had glued them shut. After a wobbly moment that seemed to take forever, she felt solid ground beneath her feet and she could at last open her eyes once more. Not that she could yet see. White light blotted her vision and her ears were still plugged for a good thirty seconds more. Finally the pressure diminished and her vision and hearing returned to her.
She found herself, arms clutched to her chest like a frightened child, standing in the middle of the street as rain poured down upon her from overcast skies. She was already soaked and a violent shiver ran through her as she looked around the near empty streets for any sign of the inn where she was to meet her guide. However, to her dismay, there were no signs on any of the buildings where she stood and so she set out down the worn, cobbled road, passing only a couple of guards huddled beneath awnings as she turned the corner.
She contemplated asking them for directions but found herself unwilling, too shy and shaken up to bother with the task. She hated feeling this way, like a child, stuck behind her own irrational fear of the unknown. Today's events had left her vulnerable, had shown her that the invincible isolation that she'd chosen for herself could be swept away like a twig swallowed up by rushing waters. She wanted no part in this, the vulnerability or the task at hand. She wanted nothing to do with this Othailos or the assimilation program or the eleven years worth of unpaid property taxes that were being used to blackmail her into this position.
Her boots were soaked through already, squishing with every step she took. She longed for her water-resistant cloak with the detachable hood that she'd made for days like this. She knew exactly where it hung, on the third peg on the back of the door, and nostalgia stung her so badly that she staggered as she recalled what they had said.
A year. One entire year. She would not see her little house again, the home she'd worked so hard to make, for twelve months. The realisation of such a thing, twelve months in a stranger's company in an even stranger land, left her breathless. For a moment she thought she might faint. There was so much for her to take in… She took refuge under the next awning she saw, shivering violently from cold and apprehension alike.
Suddenly, the door that the awning had been built to shield opened and warm firelight poured out over the gray street as a man wearing a cloak similar to the one she'd just been longing for, emerged and made his way quickly down the wet street. Aileen took a peek inside as the door slowly began to close, spying men and women- though mostly men- sitting around tables, a roaring hearth on the far wall, and two women in green dressed gathering dishes from tables. A familiar tavern song wafted out of the door until it shut, leaving her alone in the empty darkness of the street.
It was then that she looked up and noticed the sign nailed into the wall above her head. It read, in large navy lettering, Deepwater Tavern. Aileen sighed with relief, chiding herself for not noticing it before. She reached for the door's handle and stepped inside.
It took a few minutes for her eyes to adjust, yet again, to the warm light. Once they did, she looked around the tavern and realised that she was looking for something she'd never seen. She had come across only one elf in her life before, a High Elf traveler who had nodded to her as he passed her on the road that headed toward Westfall three years ago. He'd been tall and thin, possessing the pointed ears she'd heard about only in stories, with brown hair so long that it brushed against his hips as he walked and pale skin that had a translucent quality to it that made him look almost ghostly. His eyes were the most startling thing about him, though. As blue as jewels, they seemed to reflect what little light there was in the forest back at her. He had been beautiful and terrifying with his alien features that played upon human traits but were distinctly inhuman at the same time.
She used the traveler as a reference as her eyes scanned the room for her guide. Finally, as one of the green clad women moved away from a table along the wall, she spotted something she'd never seen before. And had it not been for how harshly he stood out against the mostly human crowd, she would never have pegged him as an elf at all- he looked so different from the High Elf. In fact, apart from the pointed ears, long hair, and luminous eyes, he looked like a completely different race in comparison. He looked more like the painting of a savage troll she'd once seen in a book than an elf, in her eyes. He was just missing the tusks.
But that had to be him. There were no other elves in the room at all, High Elf or otherwise, and certainly no one stood out as much as he did. She forced herself to stop dumbly standing there and made her way toward him, studying him more closely with each step.
Even sitting he was taller than the group of drunken men who sat one table over, forced to lean against the wall because the back of his chair offered no support. The chair he sat in looked comically small in comparison to his giant frame, for in addition to his height he was quite broad. Actually, everything around him was disproportionately tiny. She could see as she came closer that his legs could hardly fit under the table and the mug he held looked rather like a teacup in his hands. Had she not been so fascinated, and slightly shocked, she might have laughed.
She'd seen blue skin before on the undead she'd killed, but nothing like this. The color of his skin resembled the perpetual dusk that came with the curse upon her forest home, matching the sky with its silvery undertones. Like gray stone and a clear day mixed together, or perhaps the underbelly of a storm. His hair stood out against it, a bright white that rivaled fresh snow, and even in a ponytail it hung down his chest to his belly, it was so long.
There was one defining similarity between the High Elf and the man before her. His eyes, too, shone, bringing in the warm golds of the hearth and reflecting them back as silver as the moon. As she ventured ever closer, cautiously weaving through the tables and people, he caught her gaze. And now, from only a few feet away, Aileen could see that though he was tall and broad and blue, his face was nothing like that of the snarling troll from the book. Masculine with his defined cheekbones, jaw, and straight nose, but possessing a soft serenity to his expression that made her shoulders relax just a little.
At last she stood before him and found herself unable to speak. He spoke for her, standing as he did so, his height forcing her to actually tilt her head up to look at him. "You must be Aileen Hunter." She nodded and he smiled, offering her his hand, which engulfed hers when she took it. "It is good to meet you. I am Othailos Evenmist, your guide."