Before
She always dreamt of that night, the very first memories she had. It was a ghost that followed and haunted her, made of crackling flames and onyx smoke. It left in the day, only to return in the night. When her head hit her pillow after a hard day's work, it came flying back and embraced her. Always.
Tangerine hair and fel blood-coloured eyes, that's what she always remembered most. Her mother's distinguishing Sin'dorei globes of emerald and her regal, elegant face. That face was merely a mask, used to cover the madness and unspoken whispers beneath. She didn't want to remember the madness, the slaughter, the smell of burning flesh and the screams of those being incinerated alive. But she always did, always saw what her mother had done.
It had been a normal night in Dalaran as always, mages discussing research and new spells they had written. That normalcy was shattered in a moment's notice, when the first human fell dead, face charred black. It was shattered by Connordia's manic laughter and will to obey unseen masters. And then another mage, and another, and another... They fell one by one, flames from their bodies spreading to various buildings, painting an orange hue across the city. Each mage that couldn't run fast enough was caught in the inferno, dying a most painful death.
She remembered hiding from Connordia in the Violet Hold with civilians, too young to understand what was happening and why battalions of battle-mages were being sent out into the streets. She hated the way the others glared at her, as though her mother's lust for power and her succumbing to the lure of the old gods' promises were her fault.
"I want her alive,", Jaina had said, "a simple spell to the heart is too good for her." Lady Proudmoore had looked with unparalleled disgust at Connordia Dawnhallow when she was finally detained and in irons. Argent Crusaders kept a close eye on her as she was dragged into the lower reaches of the Violet Hold, to be executed. Yet neither the paladins nor the mages saw the small shadow with orchid eyes and raven wing hair follow them.
The red headed elf was forced to the floor on her knees, with both arms bound in chains at her sides. Her head was forced into the cold cobblestone by an armored foot as she looked up at the Kirin Tor mage above her. "Whatever you have to say, you best say it now.", Jaina had hissed down at her, hatred not disguised in the least. Connordia did not reply, only spitting in an Argent Crusader's face and smirking. And then, a great sword came down, and her head rolled across the floor, all witnessed by the small shadow. Then, the choking cries and the horror at the cruel smirk permanently etched into her mother's face.
Sapphira awoke from the reoccurring nightmare to a loud pounding on her front door and a baritone voice calling her name quite frantically. Suddenly, the screech of metal and the splintering of wood. The lithe woman jumped from her bed and ran out into the foyer, only to see her assistant standing amongst what looked like the remains of her front door. "My lady, are you alright?", he said worriedly, his voice wavering from having smashed himself into her home. "Thalarion, for the love of the Light, just because I don't answer immediately does not mean I am dead or dying!", she squalled at the tall, crimson haired Sin'Dorei.
"This is the third time this month!", she continued, her violet eyes flashing with anger. Thalarion did not reply, only bowing his head in embarassment. Only then did Sapphira realize she was still in her nightclothes, and she quickly attempted to cover herself. "Get out, now!", she hissed before heading back towards her bedroom.
For once, Thalarion obeyed and left quickly as soon as his mistress's back was turned. When he returned to the streets of Dalaran, he snickered softly to himself. As bad as he felt over breaking down her door for the third time in a month, he always found it funny to watch Sapphira fly into a rage. She was normally just so...cold and intimidating. She was odd looking for a blood elf, with her raven hair and royal purple eyes. They stood out so much against her alabaster skin and high cheekbones. When she was in her full navy blue, Kirin Tor purple, and midnight black robes and cloaks, she seemed more dark and cold than she did in a white night dress. She walked with a queenly sort of grace, and her robes billowed behind her, she always looked truly impressive. Her hair was always pulled into a tight bun, she seemed so uncharacteristic with it loose and hanging down. But then again, he had woken her up with his frantic breaking and entering.
Sapphira did not know why the Kirin Tor and the Argent Crusade ever thought it a good idea to put her and Thalarion Sunstrike together as a team. She had a reputation for being one of the most talented frost magi in existence, and it was known that Thalarion did not have an affinity for magic. Although, his prowess in melee combat far surpassed any other paladins thus known. Thalarion was tall and burly, extremely musceled with wide shoulders and deep crimson hair, always pulled into a high Kal'dorei tail. He wore traditional blood knight armor, everything carved to look like a phoenix's wings.
It fit him extremely well, as he had the grace of Al'ar on the battlefield. He handled a great sword like an extension of his arms. His long, scarlet locks often flew behind him, creating a red halo of sorts around him.
Sapphira returned from her thoughts about Thalarion and started pulling herself together for the day, putting her hair up in its tight bun and donning her robes and staff. She'd fix her door some other time. She had more important priorities right now.