Author's Note: I do not own World of Warcraft, or Blizzard for that matter. I only own the ideas that leak out of my head. This is my first World of Warcraft fiction, so please have mercy. This story is written from the POV of my main character, Analiya. And since her bother, Calvinduil, is another one of my characters and I couldn't RP their meeting, I made it into a short story instead. I hope you enjoy!
I lean on a smooth stoned wall, one leg bent at the knee so the bottom of my booted foot is flat against it. Between my fingers is a lit cigar, already half way smoked, but I hardly pay it any attention. Instead, I turn my face up towards the sky, trying to judge just how long I've been standing here, waiting for my oldest brother. Unable to know for sure, I let my eyes wander to the fountain. Like most of the structures within the walls of this city, it is beautiful, almost flawless enough to take the breath right from my lungs. But I know it is meant to represent the perfection of my race, which is something I do not agree with.
Inside my mind, a conflict brews. The same conflict that battles it out every time I come here. Part of me loves this city and when I come here, it is almost as if I am a child again, marveling in disbelief at the beauty surrounding me. I can't help but to remember coming to Silvermoon as a young girl, trading animal skins for linen and first aid supplies, swapping animal meat for luxury food that my brothers and I couldn't find in the wild. Even when I didn't have anything to trade, I would still make it a point to sneak off to the city, sitting on the ground just to look at the sights before me, until a guard came by to ask me if I was lost. Then I would have to make something up and scurry off.
The other part of me hates it here, especially the people. Most of the time I want to scream at everyone, ask them where they were, while my brothers and I almost starved to death in the wild. Ask them how they expected mere children to afford the high priced rooms the city had to offer. How is it fair that three children had to sleep in the woods, huddled together for warmth, with nothing but ratty sleeping bags between them and whatever lurked on the forest floor? I still remember the looks I got as a little girl when entering the city with my dirty clothes and bag of tradable goods. Even the guards turned their noses up at the girl with hollow cheeks and jutting ribs brought on by hunger.
When the rage becomes too much, I have to remind myself that being ignored by the wealthy people in the city has made me who I am today. How many Blood Elves do you know that could survive in the wild, kill their own food, sleep in a tree? Probably not many.
I'm brought back to the present by the sensation of being burnt. I look down to see that my cigar has burned all the way down to my fingers. I drop it to the ground, stomping it out with my boot while I look at my fingers, judging how badly I've hurt myself. Luckily, the burns aren't nearly as bad as they could be and I cross to the fountain, dipping my fingers into the cool water to ease the sting of the wounds, careful not to get my fingerless gloves too wet. As I'm straightening up, I hear him.
"Is that my little sister? Analiya!" Calvin's voice rings out in our native tongue, crisp and clear, loud enough to be heard over the every day hustle and bustle of Silvermoon City. I turn to see him approaching, his arms held out for a hug. I inwardly flinch, but open my own arms, crossing to meet him for an embrace. He hugs me tightly for half a second before pulling me back and holding me at arms length by the shoulders. While he takes in my appearance, no doubt hugely different since the last time we saw each other, years ago, I look at how he's changed.
His long blonde hair, which used to be shorter and held in one braid, now hangs loose down his shoulders and back, and somehow it seems brighter, more blonde. His green eyes are brighter than even mine, but the dark bags make it look like he hasn't slept in days. Perhaps he hasn't. The three of us have always been thin, but Calvin looks skinnier than ever, except maybe for the times when we all came in danger of starving. He is still a tall, average height, by our race's standards, but I cannot see any muscle on his body. He's so clean that even his naturally pale skin looks brighter. And his extravagant robes have this feel about them, as if I can sense the magic woven into them. I let my eyes return to his face and the way he's smiling not only makes me want to pull away, but also tells me that I have missed something he said.
It takes me a small moment to remind myself to speak in Thalassian, "I am sorry Calvinduil, what?"
He ruffles my hair and though I have to fight the urge to pat it back into place, at least he has released my shoulders. "As lost in your own thoughts as ever," He comments, "I said, I like your red hair."
This time I do reach up, tucking loose pieces of my short hair behind my long ears. "Thank you, Calvin."
He nods at my thanks, and not one to let conversation die, he continues. "It does not make you look like a whore, like it does most women. In fact it makes you look more mature." He nods as if this is a known fact.
I, on the other hand, think I have looked mature for many years. Of course, he has not been around for much of those many years. "It is… different," is all I can manage to get out.
"Of course it is different, considering how you always refused to get your hair dyed. But now you have grown out of trying to rebel against our people, haven't you?" He smiles at me, as if proud at a pet for learning a new trick.
'Rebel' isn't exactly the word I would use, but I don't say that out loud. Instead I simply mutter, "Yes, I suppose I have."
My brother, still smiling, fails to notice any uneasiness I may have. I have not seen him in years, but he talks as if it was only a week ago that he last saw me. I am wondering why when his next question gives me an idea.
"So your wedding, you said in your letter that you do not know when it will be?" His green eyes flash brightly at the subject and he is obviously pleased with the thought of his only sister being engaged. However, a rather large knot twists in my stomach. My wedding, the reason I asked him to meet me in Silvermoon City. The one reason I sent him a letter, when I haven't in years. Somehow, I do not think he will still be smiling at the end of our reunion.
"No, we have not set a date yet." I tell him, shifting my weight from one foot to the other.
"Well, have you planned anything? Do you know what kind of dress you might wear?" He asks, still not noticing my guarded words.
"I was thinking of making something myself, but I do not know how nicely it would turn out." I tell him, quickly and silently going over some of the designs I have been thinking about.
"Well, of course you couldn't make something nice, Analiya. It would be best to leave that type of thing to the professionals." Calvinduil says, with a wave of his hand as if it is foolish to think of anything different.
His words set me on edge a bit, and even though I promised myself to keep my temper in check while talking to my brother, I can't help but to say my next words with a hint of venom behind them. "The clothes I made for us as kids always seemed perfectly fine. They kept us warm, anyways. And I made this," I gesture down at the cloth outfit I wear now. The deep purple fabric lined with a light brown, all matching in the shoulder pieces, shirt, belt, pants, and even the boots, all done by my hand. The pants even have pockets sewn in, so I wouldn't have to always carry my small pouch. The only pieces of clothing that don't match the set are my gloves, but even those were made by me, a long time ago.
Calvin simply waves his hand again, an action that clearly shows disregard to my statement. "Sure, sure. They did a good job of keep us covered." Before I can snap back a retort, he continues. "But little Analiya, do not think your big brother did not notice your clothes. It is good to see you in something other than that silly warrior armor." A small sound comes from his lips, and I think it's a chuckle, but it's so quiet and there for only a moment that it's hard to tell.
I wore the clothing for his appreciation, knowing that he finds it ridiculous to wear plated armor. But when you're a warrior, it's necessary, even within cities. His words bring to mind one of the things I told myself I would not think about; After years of watching our parents struggle with their magic addiction, my oldest brother later chose the path of a warlock. It almost literally makes me sick to my stomach to think of it. When I look up at him, I wonder if the heavy bags under his eyes have anything to do with the magic he lets course through his veins.
"Armor is not 'silly', Calvin. It is safe." I tell him. At this point I am forcing myself to appear calm, though my brother still does not see my restraint. Perhaps after years of raising me, he has learned to look right through it. He simply leans towards me, reaching out and ruffling my hair again.
"You speak as if you expect to be attacked at any moment. Do not fear, though. Soon you will be settled down with a husband in the city, with no use for armor ever again." He smiles reassuringly, as if what he is saying is supposed to put me at ease. But instead of the calm I have been working so hard towards, I feel rage bubble up in my chest at the way he speaks to me as if I am still a child.
"Calvinduil, just because I am getting married does not mean I will give up my ways for battle." My words come out sharp and I can't help but to let a small glare come to my face.
The glare that Calvin responds with is even deeper than mine and suddenly he looks exactly like he did so many years ago, reprimanding his little sister for doing something careless or dangerous. "Nonsense, Analiya. How can you continue going into battle when you will have children to look after?"
The question takes me so off guard that I actually take a small step away from Calvin. I should have known this was the reason Calvin would be so excited to see his sister get married. He thinks I will be the one to carry on our blood line. But I cannot think of one reason why I would want something like that to happen.
"I am a warrior, Calvin, not a mother." I tell him, my voice quiet from the shock of how this conversation has turned.
My brother only knits his eyebrows together, looking down at me. "Yes, Analiya. For now, you are. But surely after the two of you are married, you will want to start a family."
My frustration is quickly returning at how sure my brother sounds. "No, Calvin. I have never and I will never want children." I say.
My brother waves his hand dismissively, "Sure, but does your fiancé want children?"
It bothers me the way my brother says this, as if my soon to be husband is the only one with a say about our future. But I answer with honesty, trying not to let my brother get to me. I let my shoulders raise in a shrug. "I do not know if he would like children. My guess would be that he doesn't."
"Nonsense. I am sure you're wrong. Let us go find him, sister." Calvin turns towards Murder Row, obviously thinking that my fiancé must be somewhere in the city.
"Calvinduil, wait a moment." I say before he has taken more than a few steps. He turns back to me, a small space now between us, his frustration clear even when I am working so hard to keep mine under control. Perhaps I am still trying because I know that our conversation is soon to end. For better or for worse.
"What Analiya? We are wasting time. And I think it is time that I meet my little sister's fiancé," Calvinduil snaps at me, the sharp sounds of our language making it sound even harsher.
"You can, Calvin. But he is not here in Silvermoon." I tell him lightly.
"Well, where ever would he be then?" My brother asks, as if the idea of my fiancé being anywhere besides Silvermoon City is completely outrageous.
"He is more than likely waiting for me to return to Orgrimmar." I tell him.
"To return? Little Analiya, are you telling me you live in that place?" My brother's green eyes flash in the bright city lights and I resist the urge to step back and widen the gap between us.
I nod my head. "After Orolin decided he wanted to seek the ways of a hunter, I moved there. It was easier to be without money in Orgrimmar than it is in Silvermoon. Easier to fall asleep in the Inns without notice and much easier to steal food."
My brother's dismissive hand gesture makes me want to scream my head off, but I bite the inside of my bottom lip, so much that it actually hurts. "Well, that is no matter now. You two can move here," Calvin lifts his arms, looking around at the high walls around us, the beautiful fountain surrounded by benches, flowers, and bushes, before he continues, "Besides, it is ridiculous for two Elves to live in a place such as Orgrimmar."
And there it is, the bomb I have been waiting for this whole time. The assumption that I am going to be marrying another Blood Elf. Finally, my brother reads something on my face. His eyes narrow just slightly and he takes a step towards me. "What Analiya? Why in the world do you have that look on your face?"
I take a small breath, trying to mentally prepare myself for the explosion that is sure to come from my racist older brother. "Harfalem is not a Blood Elf, Calvinduil." I watch his reaction carefully. He simply stares at me, as if my words are not completely sinking in.
"What else would he be?" My brother's bright green eyes are still narrowed as he looks at me.
"He is a Tauren." I tell him, plain and simple. When he continues to only stare at me, I try again. "I am going to marry a Tauren. I would still very much like your bless-"
My brother cuts me off. "A Tauren?" All of a sudden he sounds completely outraged, "One of those… cows on two legs?"
With every fiber of my being, I resist punching Calvin square in the nose. I take a deep breath, but even that doesn't completely hide the rage in my voice. "He is not a cow, simply because he is a different race. I will not let you insult the person I am in love with."
"Love? You do not know how to love, idiot girl! You do not know what love is." Calvin takes a step towards me, pointing his finger accusingly.
His words hit home and soon I am trembling with rage and hatred at my brother. "You are wrong, Calvinduil." Is all I can manage to tell him in a shaky, low voice, my fists clenched at my sides.
He takes another step towards me, now standing over me and glaring down with his bright green eyes. His voice, though not shaky like mine was, is just as quiet. "Am I wrong, Analiya? Do you really think children who kill their parents can have the ability to love?" My eyes grow at his words and I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. Instead, Calvin continues. "And you remember why we had to do that, don't you?" He drops his voice to a whisper, bending slightly so he knows I can hear, "You owe me your life, Analiya."
His words fill my head, and rage consumes me quickly. I push hard at his chest, letting the momentum carry me a few steps back, and I raise my voice to a shout. "I do not owe you anything!"
He flicks his ears at my shouting and it's clear that he's trying not to retaliate to being shoved. Instead, he uses his words to keep poisoning my mind. "Does your precious Tauren know why exactly we raised ourselves? Why we don't have parents?" My silence is a clear enough 'no' to my brother, and he smirks at me. "Maybe I should go meet this animal, after all."
Fuming, I stand my ground, somehow not lashing out with the fist weapon always neatly hidden underneath my belt. I want so badly to let my primal side take over and attack him. Through gritted teeth I manage, "No. You will not meet him. And you are not invited to our wedding."
My brother, who looks done with our conversation, sneers at me. "I do not need an invitation, little sister, especially not from the likes of you." He turns away from me, headed towards the city. He stops after a few steps, half way turning towards me. "Good bye Analiya, perhaps I will see you soon." His green eyes flash brightly again before he turns and leaves.
I watch him until he is out of sight, my whole body still shaking. After a few moments where it feels like I can't move except for the angry tremors, I finally turn to the path that leads to the portals which will bring me back to Orgrimmar. As I scramble to put distance between myself and the city where my brother now is, I only have one thought on my mind: 'Harfalem.'