"So, what do you think, Lucien?" Ansara asked, twirling around. She had to shout to be heard above the music, but the elegant flow of her body and the dress she was wearing got her the attention she was after.

Lucien Sunstorm, her best friend for the past eight years, let out an appreciative whistle and gave her a thumbs up. "Excellent choice as always," the blood elf laughed. "Looks like I'll be playing bodyguard again tonight."

Ansara laughed. "Oh, don't be silly! They aren't that revealing," she said, and it was true. It was high-necked, long-sleeved, and floor-length. That it was also skin-tight and a vivid emerald green was completely irrelevent.

Dalaran's Last Stand Inn was pulsing with life; the band was pumping out music at volumes loud enough to make ears bleed, and everywhere Ansara looked, people were laughing and talking as if the world outside the frontdoors didn't exist. Bodies moved together on the dance floor, and in the shadowy corners of the room they moved even closer.

"Let's dance!" Ansara cried, grabbing hold of Lucien's hand and attempting to drag him to his feet. "Lucien!" she whined playfully as he refused to budge. "Come on!"

"Don't you have final exams tomorrow?" he asked, arching an eyebrow at her, his fel-green eyes mock-serious.

"Not until mid-afternoon!" she replied with a shrug. "Besides, what's the worst that can happen? I fail again. What a tragedy that would be. It's not like I ever really wanted to be a mage anyway. I only agreed to study magic to shut my parents up."

"I know," Lucien said, shooting her a wicked grin as he stood up and led her onto the dance floor. "Personally, I thought the fact that it's taken you almost a decade to grasp the basics would have clued your parents in."

"Pffft, they don't care," Ansara said, throwing her hands in the air and wiggling her hips in time with the music. "In fact, I'm almost certain that if I do fail tomorrow they'll just throw some money at my instructors and I'll get my quailifications anyway."

Lucien spun around, winking at a night elf woman walking by. "Really?"

"Oh, c'mon, Lucien. You've known my parents almost as long as I have," she replied. "I'm a Belodiere, and Belodiere's don't flunk out of mage school. Even if they can't summon a portal to save their life."

Lucien laughed, shaking his head. "And how do they expect you to live? I can't see many Archmage's employing you."

"Me either," Ansara said, glaring at an Orc that groped her arse as he wandered past. "But my parents will bribe someone to take me on, I'm sure. Money talks, especially here in Dalaran."

Ansara shook her head. I don't want to think about that now. The night is for having fun and dancing, not worrying about how I'm failing my 'perfect' family.

She threw her head back and let out a peal of laughter as Lucien grabbed her and bent her backwards. Her long auburn hair brushed the floor as he kept her down, and she had to slap his shoulders to get him to let her up.

The first sign that the real world had infiltrated her little slice of paradise came when the couple behind Ansara slammed into her. "Hey!" she protested, her green eyes narrowing as went careening into Lucien. "Be carefull!"

Ansara spun around, ready to give the couple a good talking to, but Lucien pulled her back with a muffled curse. The Kirin Tor and Silver Covenant were everywhere. The inn's patrons began muttering angrily as the lawkeepers pushed their way through the crowd, knocking people over as they made they moved to the stage. The band ceased playing mid-way through a song, as a lithe high elf leapt gracefully onto the stage.

"They've blocked the exits," Lucien murmered into her ear. "Something big is about to go down."

Ansara looked around. Lucien was right. All of the Inn's entrances were now manned by a pair of stern looking Kirin Tor battlemages or Silver Covenant Rangers. She frowned as the crowd around her began to protest at the interruption of their fun.

I know that the Kirin Tor has been on edge lately, but what the hell is their problem?

Ansara tried hard to remember what her parents had been talking about over dinner the past few weeks. Something about Pandaria, and some stupid artefact, she thought. For the first time ever, she actually wished that she'd paid more attention to her family. But politics bored her, and that was what interested them the most. As a result, she tended to block them out, focusing instead on her own frustrated daydreams.

"Attention!" the high elf called. Magically amplified, her voice echoed around the room, drowning out the disgruntled mumblings of the crowd. "Three hours ago, Lady Jaina Proudmoore pledged the loyalty of the Kirin Tor, and Dalaran as a whole, to King Varian Wrynn and the Alliance. All members of the Horde races are hereby expelled from the city. Members of the Sunreavers are to be arrested and taken to the Violet Hold. Anyone caught resisting arrest or aiding the enemy will also be detained."

But Dalaran is supposed to be neutral!

Ansara's eyes honed in on Lucien's. The blood elf was gazing towards the stage with a look of horror on his face. As a Sunreaver, he was one of the people now destined for the Violet Hold.

"What right have you to arrest us? To drive Dalaran's loyal citizens into exile?" he yelled. The female high elf locked her eyes on him, as the crowd began to grow restless. "This is our home."

"You should have thought of that before you committed treason," she snapped. "You aided Garrosh Hellscream in violating the borders of our great ally, Darnassus, and must now face the consequences."

"That's not true!" Lucien protested. "You can't hold us all accountable for Fenlyr's betrayal."

"Lady Proudmoore can, and she does. Now, be silent. Guards, arrest them."

"No!" Ansara protested, as the room was flooded with battlemages. "Lucien, we have to go. You can hide at my house. They won't dare trespass on my parents' property."

"Ansara," Lucien replied, "your parents are Kirin Tor, and friends of Proudmoore's. They won't stand against her."

"They will if I ask them to! Now, come on. We have to hurry!" Ansara grabbed his hand and began hightailing it to one of the back rooms. The room had quickly descended into madness. While the Kirin Tor had the early advantage due to surprise, the crowd soon began to rally against them. The Last Stand was a predominently Horde race bar, and no one was going to stand by and allow their homes to be taken away from them.

"Holy shit!" Ansara exclaimed as a fire bolt nearly set her and Lucien aflame. "By the Light, this is madness!"

"You're not kiding," Lucien replied, struggling to keep on his feet as a troll went flying past, an ice shard lodged in his chest. "How could Lady Proudmoore do this? We are loyal!"

"Oh no!" Ansara cried as she saw the exit she was headed for was now blocked off by a swarm of terrified bar patrons. "The bathrooms! We'll go out through the windows." She dragged Lucien to the left, trying to get away from the chaotic dancefloor.

"Hold!" A human battlemage appeared in front of them, halting their progress. "Miss, stand aside. This elf is to be taken into Kirin Tor custody."

"Oh no, he is not!" Ansara declared. "He is my friend, and he is coming with me."

"Ansara," Lucien said. "Just go. I don't want you getting injured or arrested on my account."

"A wise decision," the battlemage said, holding out a pair of arcane shackles. Ansara slapped them out of his hand.

"Do you even now who I am?" she demanded."I'm a Belodiere, and my parents will be most upset to hear that you threatened my friend."

Ansara was pleased to see that the battlemage paled slightly when he heard her name. Her parents were known to be quite ruthless when it came to dealing with threats to the family.

"I'm sorry, Miss Belodiere, but Lady Proudmoore's orders are clear. Stand aside or be arrested alongside the elf."

"Fine then," Ansara replied, holding her wrists out. "Do it. I just hope you don't have children to support."

Lucien swore under his breath as the battlemage reached for Ansara, muttering something about stubborn bitches. Raising his own hand, he let out an arcane blast. The battlemage roared with pain as he reeled backwards. Lucien took Ansara by the hand and pulled her towards the women's bathrooms.

"Let's go."

Damn it! I just bought this dress! Ansara thought as she was forced to tear the remains of her skirt off at the knee lest she trip over it. It took six months for that adventurer to track down all the materials for it. Six. Months.

"Are you all right, Lucien?" she asked as she half-carried him down a side alley. She looked him over; the wound on his left arm seemed pretty minor, but the cut on his right temple was bleeding badly.

"Mmm 'kay," the blood elf muttered, slumping forward, his full weight almost sending Ansara to her knees. Tyrande's knickers! Blood Elves are not supposed to weigh this much, she thought as she staggered sideways into a wall.

She wanted to sit and rest for a few minutes, but the sound of fighting was getting closer, and she was almost certain she had seen Lady Proudmoore herself out on the streets attacking people. I almost lost my face to a frostbolt getting to this point. I am NOT getting caught now.

"I can do this. I can do this nine times," she said, pushing herself forward. She grimaced as her arms and legs started to shake from the strain, but she refused to give up.

Bugger it! Ansara's breath caught as a group of Rangers appeared at the end of the laneway. Please don't turn around. She sighed in relief as her prayer was answered and the High Elves moved away. She started walking again, her load seeming to get heavier with every step.

"That's it, my friend," she said. "No more chocolate for you."

"I'll cut you," Lucien snarled in response.

Ansara sniggered, then did a mental jump for joy as her house came into sight. There was a small group of Horde mages fighting nearby, but they were surrounded and outnumbered by the Kirin Tor, so wouldn't last much longer.

"Best hurry," she said, and began moving as quickly as she could. She winced as she heard screams of pain coming from the mages, tears of anger welling in her eyes. What the hell is going on? Has Lady Proudmoore gone crazy? This is my home and she is ruining everything. I was supposed to host a party this weekend!

Kicking the gate open with her foot, Ansara dragged Lucien up the path and the steps leading to the front door. She rang the doorbell, and when there was no response, started pounding on the door.

"Jameson! Open the damn door or so help me, people are going to get fired!" she yelled, throwing a glance over her shoulder. Most of the Horde mages were defeated, badly injured and in shackles.

"Lady Ansara! What on Azeroth... "

Ansara practically mowed the butler down she moved so fast, but she needed to get inside before the Kirin Tor saw her with Lucien. "Out of the way, Jameson. I'm fine."

"But you're injured! And why is Mr Sunstorm with you?" the butler asked, fussing over her like an old maid. Normally, Ansara would appreciate the concern, but right now he was just getting in her way.

"Jameson, fetch me some healing potions and some cleaning cloths. Hot water, too. Bring them to the basement," she ordered, heading for the staircase off the kitchen. "Do not tell anyone Lucien is here."

"Right away, Milady."

The trip to the basement was tricky; Lucien was dead weight on her shoulders and made it difficult for Ansara to negotiate the stairs. "Whoah!" she cried out as she almost dropped him.

"What is he doing here?" a cold voice asked, and Ansara groaned as her older sister, Mariah, planted herself in front of them. "Lady Proudmoore has called for the arrest of his kind. Or perhaps you missed that in your hedonistic gambolling?"

"Mariah, please!" Ansara begged. "He's my friend, and you know mother and father adore him. I only need to hide him here for a few days so he can heal. Then he'll be able to leave."

Mariah scowled and crossed her arms over her chest. "Fine, but he better not bleed on anything," she said, and stood aside with a sniff of disapproval.

Thanks for your help, sis, Ansara thought as she lugged Lucien over to a chair and sat him down in it.

"Lady Ansara, we're out of potions, I'm afraid. Your father donated them to the Kirin Tor battlemages outside," Jameson said as he came down downstairs. "I did manage to find some salves to go with the bandages, however; they should help keep infection at bay."

"Thanks, Jameson!" Ansara said with a grin, relaxing now that she was certain of Lucien's survival. She grabbed a few cloths and dunked them in the hot water the butler had bought with him. Cleaning the wound on Lucien's forehead, her back to the room, she began planning his escape from Dalaran.

He might not be able to summon a portal, or teleport away, she thought. The Kirin Tor will probably be keeping strict control on magical travel for a while.

Lucien protested weakly as she smeared the salve over his wound, wrinkling her nose at the awful smell. "Stob being such a baby," she chided him. "You're a million years old, for Light's sake."

Behind her, she heard people coming down the stairs, their heavy footsteps echoing around the basement. She turned to greet them, fully expecting to see her parents or siblings.

"No!" she cried, the bowl of water falling to the floor. "You cannot take him! I will not allow it."

"You have no say in it, girl," the high elf Ranger sneered at her. Ansara groaned when she noticed it was the woman from the inn. "Now stand aside. Be thankfull your parents are so highly regarded by Lady Proudmoore and the Six, or else you'd be joining him in the Hold."

Ansara clung tightly to Lucien as the Ranger and her battlemage companions stepped forward, but she was forced to let him go by a powerful arcane blast. She screamed as she fell to her knees, the pain making it feel like her head was being squeezed through a sieve. By the time it cleared, Lucien was already in chains, and being marched upstairs.

Ansara chased after them, pleading with, and then threatening, the Kirin Tor and Rangers. They ignored her, and dragged Lucien into the street and out of her sight.

"Lucien! Lucien!" she yelled, tears falling from her eyes.

"Ansara!" Mariah scolded her, standing by the living room door with a scandalised look on her face. "Remember who you are."

"You!" Ansara yelled, pointing at her sister with fury in her eyes. "You did this. You told them Lucien was here!"

"Of course I did!" Mariah replied, looking very pleased with herself. "We are Belodieres. We can't have people thinking that we aided the enemy."

"Lucien is not our enemy!"

"He is now," Mariah said sharply. "Lady Proudmoore said so. Our family is loyal to Dalaran, and therefore, to her. You'd better remember that. I won't have you sullying our good name with your foolishness, and I'm sure Mother and Father will agree with me."

"You stupid bitch!" Ansara yelled, and charged at her sister, fully intending to claw that smug look right off her face.

"Ansara!" a new voice bellowed, and she found herself stuck to the floor by a frost nova. She turned to the front door, and saw her parents standing there with outraged expressions on their faces.

"What is going on here?" her father said, eyes narrowing in anger as he took in Ansara's upraised fists and Mariah's horrified stare.

Well, shit...

AN - a new story that I was up all night last night furiously writing notes for. Ansara Belodiere is a character that I created as part of a plot point for Shadows of Our Pasts. I decided I wanted to flesh her and Solarin out a bit more. Time wise, it's occuring just before Watcher in the Keep started.

Next Chapter: The Purge of Dalaran was just the start of Ansara's troubles.