I know I have a million other fanfics to update. But I honestly cannot write them right now.

This story won't be long. Only a few chapters, and certainly not more than ten. I'm so enchanted with the zones in Draenor right now, I just had to write something taking place there.

This pairing is not unheard of in the WoW universe, though in my opinion it's highly underrated. I think with the setting in-game is perfect for this, tbh. This is just before the Iron Horde start their crazy rampage.

If you haven't figured it out already, this is going to contain spoilers for those who don't yet have warlords. You've been warned now.

I own nothing but the names, lives, and actions of my OCs

As a girl my life was simple. You woke up early, you washed yourself, you dressed and you ate, you tended to your part of the garden, visited with your friends after your lessons, and you prayed to the Light. Your days were filled by dusty tomes, your father's droning lectures, the idle chatter of neighbors, and the smell of the spices picked from your family's garden that always lingered on your clothes. You knew who you were and what you were to do each day. You knew what not to do and you knew what was wrong. There was not a single face unfamiliar in your whole village, you knew everyone, and everyone knew you just as they knew your mother and father and cousins and friends. The deepest thoughts you had were of your flowers, were they growing as they should be? Did you water them enough? Too much? Should you not have watered them at all?

The days were never too long or too short, your mind never pondered your very existence, and you never thought of death or what came after. The Light was always with you, almost annoyingly so, and you felt it followed you everywhere like the unwelcome gnats from the marsh. But it gave a warmth like even your parents could not. It was like the warmest of baths or the coziest of fires and it never quite left you, even if you were having a fit. There was a reassurance, a level of comfort, that could not be matched by anything you could hold in your hands or see. Or so you used to think.

You were a regular child. Not overly tall or short or thin or heavy. Your hair was dark and your eyes glowed the usual silvery blue. You played at the edge of the marsh even though you were not supposed to, got caught once or twice, and cried if you fell and skinned your knees or the mud stained your favorite shirt. You envied the older girl two homes down who raised Faerie Dragons and had a little hatchling of her own. You were teased about always smelling like spices. You hated when your father made his prayers extra long and you had to wait your turn. You feared the Shadowmoon Orcs just as everyone else did, though you never showed your fear if one of them ever came to trade goods with someone at the market. You were always right where you were supposed to be, never even a step off. You never paid the conflicts of adults any attention. Your mind was always on your flowers or the boy in your lessons who both annoyed and amused you, how much you liked your new dress that Mother bought for you, curiosity over the mysterious Rangari whom you so admired, your fondness of the grasslands and fields of Shadowmoon Valley.

When you were half-grown, somewhere between an adult and a child, and you learned that your family would be leaving for Talador on a pilgrimage leading to Auchindoun, you would have been outraged if not for the purpose of the journey. You were upset, of course, that you would be leaving your home for so long a time, even though a few months was less than even a wink in the life of a Draenei. You would reach physical maturity in six years, but you would not be considered an adult or even a tiny bit mentally mature compared to your elders for many more decades, though you liked to think you were very mature for your age. And because of this false sense of maturity, and the sacred purpose of your journey, you attempted to take the news of the coming trip in stride and prepared yourself as much as you could.

There had been rumors of the Orcish clans coming together in a pact of some sort, joining into one grand Iron Horde. The name of their union sent shivers down everyone's spines, your's was no exception. The Orcs were planning something, everyone was sure of it, and if the mass caravans of Orcs headed for other places on Draenor was anything to judge by, it was something big.

You, like many others, did not want to be unprepared. Your family would be taking the same road out to Talador as many of those bands of Orcs, and should anything happen, you did not want to caught like caught like a Talbuk calf in the jaws of an alpha wolf. You wanted to be able to fight back. Father, too, saw the sense in this. Your lessons shifted from those of the Light's grace to those of the Light's strength and where you once held a tome or prayer book, you now held a staff. Mother did not want you to be subjected to very many ways of violence, preferring that you learned more to use the Light's presence in a fight rather than infusing it in your weapon and through the swing of a hammer. And so you took the lessons of a priestess rather than those of a paladin. You began to find that you liked these new lessons much more than you liked your old ones, too.

For two months prior to the journey your lessons were filled with the ways of the Light in battle and healing. By the time you were all to leave you could heal small wounds, from the prick of a thorn to a nasty scrape, burn away the shadow from your surroundings and your enemies. The training dummies normally used by the Rangari were blackened in many places by the burns inflicted from your Light, and younger children often came to you to heal a bruised shin or a cut on the tail. When the morning your family was to go arrived, you felt as prepared as you could get after only such a small amount of training. Pleased with yourself, your bags were packed and your mind was settled. It was only a few months, after all, and you would be back just in time for the next harvest. There was one regret though. The boy who had at one time irritated you and amused you all at once, had grown into a young man who now still amused you but also fascinated you. And you did not get the chance to tell him so.

It was but a small regret, one you did not dwell upon. You didn't get the time to dwell on it, anyway, as the Talbuk your father rented pulled away with you, your mother, your father, and a half-full cart of things you would need for the journey.

Talador was beautiful. Everything was green and gold or scarlet and silver. Trees bigger, thicker, taller than any of those you'd seen in Shadowmoon twisted their way into the gold-hued sky above you. It took a few days to get used to the sun and the warmth it brought. And so many new animals. Massive birds, much like the Dread Ravens that sometimes came from Araak and were sometimes perched just out of sight in the shadowy, terrifying forests that bordered western Shadowmoon but brown or red in color- called Teroclaws. Huge shimmery-winged moths of all sorts of pretty shades of blue and red and silver. Silver and red furred tigers. There were lots of animals you were familiar with too; Riverbeasts, frogs, and eels. There seemed to be just as much water in Talador as in Shadowmoon. You passed a river, stream, or pond almost every hour. You were fascinated, and it was all so beautiful and new. Everything seemed to glow, and in a different way than back home. There was a rich warmth to everything you could see, from the scarlet leaves high above your head to the stones in the road.

The journey was more peaceful than you'd imagined it would be. You had thought you'd be afraid, especially after the the day of traveling through the dark forests and trying to evade the notice of Shadowmoon Orcs and the attentions of those monstrous birds. But your terror ended after only a couple of hours in Talador. You began to wonder why you ever disliked the idea of this trip. As you went further, stopping in various little villages and towns and camping on the shores of small lakes with other travelers and pilgrims, your father explained more and more of the importance of the trip to Auchindoun. He told you of his own childhood trips and experiences, and for once you weren't bored with his stories and lessons. When you sat down at the fire each night, you grew anxious to hear the next part of the tale. With each day you grew more excited.

But peace cannot last forever, no matter how unbreakable it may seem- Especially in a place so enchanting as Talador.