This is not a canon run alongside Blizzard's lore. This story contains adult themes (and there has been heavy editing to turn something explicit into something allowed), a certain amount of violence, some tragedy in the wings, lots of plot, and a tad bit of smut in every chapter. Because if you're familiar with any Black Collar story, you know there's smut. While I've done my best to tone this down, it's also probably a good moment to point out that my idea of what is appropriate for a 16 year old is skewed by the fact that I'm not an idiot, and I know what the average 16 year old is doing/reading/watching. I was 16 once, too.
This is part of a series, of which this entire first part is done. I'll be posting it slowly since I have to heavily edit. Comments and critiques are, of course, welcome and relished. I love to answer questions, and I enjoy hearing from those who take their time to read what I write, so don't be shy. This has been a fun little venture that I hope is enjoyed.
It was a usual thing, for him to sit there at the fireplace and gaze without truly seeing into the warm flames that cast orange and red over the common room. His hand clutched the fragile glass as if he were afraid it would fall, but he was impassive. Nothing had ever seemed to bring emotion to his face; no emotions that she could ever find, none that would have warmed her as that fire warmed the home. She flinched as his hand tilted, swirling the dregs of his wine in his glass while he pondered things that she had never hoped to dream of. Or at least, she liked to think that much of him. She liked to think that he thought of her, even when nothing showed that would have proven love or loathing.
He set his glass down, and she scrambled forward to offer up the decanter that held more of the dark liquid. Her eyes searched him, and found nothing more than the glossy brown eyes seated beneath strong brows. His chiseled features were tanned, lit with sweat from the heat of the fire that now threatened to scald her clothed back with the force of it. The bottle clicked against glass, and she drew it away to stand awkwardly at his side, twisting her hands around the bottle neck that sat so large in her small hands. His silence continued, and she dared to speak, barely heard above the snap of the dry tinder.
"I was wondering, Father... the letter that came for me. Might I read it?" She licked her lips, eyes turned down and away as his own came up to regard her with that same passive nothingness.
"No." The single word response cut her deeply, spoken in his rich baritone before he turned those eyes back to the fire and began his idle swirling again. She knew the tone, knew that pursuing would only beget pain that she would only just be able to tolerate. Pain, humiliation... but curiosity was so much worse a curse, and she felt that the knowledge would soothe the shame she would surely feel later.
"Please, I only want to read it. I never get any letters meant only for my eyes, and - ..." Her yelp of pain shattered the words on her lips, the bottle dropped and forgotten to spill wine across the lush carpet. She clutched at the long braid of dark gold hair that he twisted about his hand as he hauled her around in front of him, sweeping her off her feet and onto her knees in one swift movement that left her whimpering. "I'm sorry. Forgive me, Father..."
He pulled her harder, until her protests were muffled against the rough leather of his leggings, her body sprawled between his legs so that she could only scrabble wildly for purchase on the carpet, attempting to push herself up. "My precious, precious child. You should know by now that I know what is best for you." His free hand pushed through the bangs that had escaped her neat braid, pushing them back behind one gently pointed ear before resting his fingertips on the back of her neck. "Maeve, my sweetling, do you not trust me?"
A thumb moved, the most of a motion needed to push aside the leather that barely contained his erection, and it dropped to smack against the bridge of her nose and brow, bringing forth a wounded whimper from deep in her chest. She struggled against his grip, pushing against the base of the chair to better wiggle away from the hot skin that she was painfully familiar with, and the lance of pain that shot over her scalp as he jerked her roughly upwards until her lips touched along his manhood. "I've never done you any harm..."
Around her throat his hand moved and squeezed, tilting her head until he could coax himself between her lips. Her resistance fell as his fingers closed her nose, and she sobbed in pain as he forced further into her mouth. "If I wished you to read it," he curled his hands in her braids, pulling her down on his maleness while his hips moved upwards, "I would have handed it to you the moment it came through the door. But I do not, and so I threw it into the fire. Don't choke, it's very unbecoming of you." He thrust, and her coughing became a horrid gag that silenced itself as her lips met his pelvis.
He crooned at her as she struggled to fight the urge to vomit, tears coursing down her cheeks while she peered up at him with the bloodshot eyes of one who was losing air. His thumbs brushed at the tears, his impassive face making no other expression as he held her there until her face began to turn from pale peach to pink, then darker. When he released her, she pulled off of him with an awful gagging, thick ropes of saliva coating his length as she coughed and sputtered apologies that went unheard. She struggled as he dragged her down again, stretching small mouth and tight throat around him until she no longer fought, and he could simply hold her head and rock his hips, staring at the drool that left the corner of her lips and the snot that smeared above her upper lip as she quietly sobbed her pain.
"Classy, Herin."
Her eyes shifted away from his stomach and to the door, trying to find the owner of the silken voice. She saw only shadows through her tears, renewed as he grunted and shoved her away and her head hit the corner of the fireplace, forcing stars into the darkness that was beginning to abate as breath found purchase in her lungs.
"I'd always painted you for the forceful type, but never the abusive. The years have not been kind to you." The shadows moved, and firelight danced upon a slender form dressed in simple leathers, no more decorative than those worn by the hunters and path-stalkers that she was familiar with. The cloak, a rich and deep green that matched the dyed leather that Maeve could see, hid what face she might have been able to find, but she knew the voice for that of a woman. "I would say that I find it a shame, but it really is truly only fitting."
There was silence, long and broken by nothing more than the snap of the logs in the fire, and then there was motion and the tangled sound of a scream and grunt. Maeve cowered against the mantle, the strong form of her father pinned to the floor by little more than the elegant boot of the woman.
"Child, I would like you to go to your room and change into traveling clothes. Pack a bit of food and some wine, and any precious possessions that you cannot bear to part with." The woman's eyes turned to her, flashing green in the dark that the firelight could not quite penetrate. "That was a request, little one. Do not make me turn it into an order. I will wait here for you. I have business with your father."
"You can't do this," croaked Herin, his hands grasping at the woman's foot in an attempt to dislodge her. She remained firm, her eyes following the willowy form of the girl until she was out of view. "She's my daughter, and I've not given her permission to go anywhere. Least of all with you and those... those people."
"Herin." She shifted her weight, replacing her boot with her hand as she dropped atop him, straddling him with the natural ease of a professional. He groaned as her soft leathers ground against him, making him shudder. "She's of age, both in the eyes of her people as much as the eyes of her family. Her real family. She no more needs your permission to leave as I do to cut off your air." With a languid sigh she leaned forward, pressing the palm of her gloves hand against his windpipe until his face began to turn blue. When she finally released him, he spent more time gasping for air than attempting to strike her, and she allowed herself a few moments to observe him.
"This has been a very long time coming. Your stubborn disobedience has made me late, and I don't like being late." Her hand moved, delivering a viper quick strike against his cheek that silenced him before he could finish his retort. He licked the blood away from his lip as she leaned back, bracing her hands on his thighs to support herself while she began to slowly rock and tease atop him. "More than that, you've tested the patience of one who is more than you could ever hope to be. Ah -" she lashed out again, a bloody smear appearing on his cheek, and she wagged a finger at him. "No talking. Your voice is pleasant, but I do hate hearing you speak. It's like... you open your mouth, and I'm forced to watch a cow shit."
Her rhythm picked up as she leaned down, lacing her fingers through his hair, her expression one of boredom though his own was contorting into something that might have spoke of pleasure. "It must have been nice to have a little girl so easily bent under your fingers. Doing anything to please you, but it's not enough." She purred, her hand grasping around his throat again. "You're a little shit who loves to know where you belong. The bottom of my boot, and no place else. With the snap of my fingers, I could have you licking mud from my feet. That," she growled into his ear, "is where you belong. The bottom. The stool which I sit upon, the cuckold who watches a worthy man breed his mistress." A fingernail twisted and dug into his lip, and he spasmed beneath her.
Without missing a beat, she stood in a single graceful moment, her boot pressed painfully against his balls. He groaned, and she slowly applied more pressure, and his hands lowered to encircle his maleness, face twisted into a grimace of tangled pain and pleasure. "Look at you. A few moments ago you had yourself on top, using your daughter like a little cocksleeve. Now you have a real woman, and all of those long nights come rushing back, don't they?" Her boot moved, clipping the heel over the head of his tip, and she hissed. "Don't they?"
"Y-yes!" His hips bucked as he furiously pumped his manhood, squirming himself up against her boot, and she against stepped on the sensitive sack of flesh until he was whimpering and his masturbation was easily heard, echoing through the previously quiet room.
"Yes, what?" She eased up, and he panted with desperation. A flicker of movement caught at her hearing, and she cast an easy glance over her shoulder to focus on the girl that stood there, gaping at a sight that was no doubt foreign. Her tattered dress had been changed into a simple long shift, her braids gone to let waves of dark gold fall to her waist over her bust. A cloak had been thrown haphazardly over her figure, one that the older woman deemed to be malnourished, and her feet were bare. In her hands, a simple cloth sack was being twisted with worry, showing that there was very little that was solid held within.
She extended a hand, motioning with two fingers for the smaller girl to come forward, and she was caught between pleasure and disgust as the girl all but fell over herself to obey the simple gesture. Her eyes returned to the man writhing beneath her, and she eased the pressure more until the only contact was his frantic humping that sent his sac thumping wildly against the bottom of her boot.
"Yes, Mistress!"
With a gentle smile aimed briefly at the no doubt uncomfortable girl, she focused back on the man and lifted her boot, bringing it down with a solid crush, grinding the hard leather until the man howled and came, thick globs of cum splattering his chest and face. She recoiled with a sneer of disgust, sliding her boot away as her hand reached to grasp the arm of the other woman.
"Memorize this moment, Maeve. Fix this scene in your mind, so that you will never again fall prey to someone who seeks to change their place. Remember the moment you saw the worm for what he is," she let the picture sink into her mind, the man who had been reduced to little more than a writhing pile of skin, bathed in his own seed as he futilely pumped his shrinking shaft and gasped with the residual pleasure, "and the day that he lost all power over you."
Her hold did not cease as she turned away, guiding the girl out of the common room and to the door, which still hung open from her silent entry. Gesturing Maeve through, she followed into the unpaved road, leaving the door hanging open behind her as she started down the street.
Maeve paused, staring after the woman for a moment before she looked back at the door, moving to close it. The woman's words were quick and sharp, forcing her to snap her hand back and scurry after the figure that was quickly becoming little more than a forbidding walking cloak of green. Those who remained on the streets hurried out of their way, whispering behind their hands and staring blatantly as the two passed. Maeve had little choice but to follow, muttering apologies to those she knew as they left the warrens of the city and found purchase on the short pathway that led out of the insignificant town.
"You have questions," the woman paused to allow her to catch up, and the hazy light that filled the square cast new shadows over the cloaked face. "I have some as well, but I will go through what I am able to now." Her eyes gleamed from beneath the hood, and she raised her hands to push back the cloth, shaking out hair that shone like spun gold beneath the light. As it settled, Maeve could see streaks of silver woven in the strands, but most startling were the long ears that pointed nearly to the sky. "My name is Ashadel, but you may call me Asha."
Gesturing, the newly named woman led them along the path at a comfortable pace. "I've been sent to gather you, and take you to an establishment where you will be trained in your birthright, and more." Her eyes flicked to Maeve, a smile dancing on her lips. "You've attracted the attention of a very benevolent woman, Maeve." A hand lashed out, steadying the girl as she stumbled over a loose stone.
"I... don't understand." Maeve paused to rub at her toe, turning wide eyes on the elven woman. "You saw what he was doing. You knew him. You knew me. You did... something to him."
Ashadel chuckled, her head tilted to the side, gently guiding Maeve along. "Nothing except what he craved so very many years ago. He was a pushover then, and he remains one to this day. You simply never saw that side, as he had left our care a long time ago. With your mother, in fact." Her smile was a fond one as she spoke. "Nyesla was a beautiful woman, and I see a good deal of her in you. It is good to know that she survives in the blood of her child."
"I'm not... I don't remember her. Father says I'm nothing like her. That she was beautiful and talented, and far more than I could ever hope to be. That I was the reason she died, that it was all my fault. If she hadn't had me – eep!" Maeve thrust her bag up in front of her face as the blonde whirled on her, a finger lifted.
"Never. Nyesla dreamed of having a child from the first moment she witnessed a birth. Were her skills placed differently, she might have been a wonderful midwife and nanny. There was no greater joy to her than finding out that she was carrying you, and your father wasn't worthy of her, nor of you." The finger reached and tapped the poor girl firmly on the forehead. "That entire ideal is going to change, if you are going to be of any use."
When the woman turned away and began to walk, Maeve quickened her pace to match it and spoke quietly. "Where are you taking me? What do you mean, 'if I'm going to be of any use'?"
"I had forgotten how badly the outer cities suffered when the Legion peeled through. You can barely recognize that this is where Stormwind once stood. Elwynn's barely a memory." Asha's musings quieted while she tried to think of a delicate way to explain. "I'm taking you to where Nyesla would have you, were she still alive. A place where you can cultivate the latent gifts within you." She stopped short, and glanced at the girl. "I'm not going to sit here and ask if you've done some things without meaning to. If you've heard voices. All the things the old wizards and mages might have asked their apprentices.
You aren't a wizard. You aren't a mage. You're an untrained quarter-human who has potential enough to be noticed by someone who is very aware of power. You can leave me here, and you'd never know even a hair of your abilities. Or, you can come to where you belong, and learn. So this," she gestured to their surroundings, the ancient archways and dried up canals of the ruined city of Stormwind a bitter reminder of what was once a great civilization, "never happens again. Not here, not anywhere."
They walked in silence for a time, with Ashadel slowly picking a path through scenery that changed from paved roads to deforested woods, and then bare ground. Only when the woman paused did Maeve find her voice again. "You aren't from around here, are you? I mean, you obviously know what this place is – what it was, at least." She quieted as the woman began to laugh, feeling oddly uncomfortable quite suddenly.
"Maeve, I once knew this land better than you could ever hope to know your own body. I knew Stormwind as well as I knew Quel'thalas. But they are both ruined cities now. Everything was ruined, once the Legion came. We thought that this world was lost completely, but it managed to survive. Everything is slowly rebuilding, and perhaps in another ten or twenty years, Stormwind will stand tall. Again." She shrugged, folding her arms. "Been a few months since I've hopped back over to Azeroth, but I was born here. I'll always be from here." Once more she shrugged, and then grinned. "Now one for you."
Before Maeve could question her, she raised fingers to her lips and whistled sharply, her lengthy ears twitching. For a moment there was nothing, and then a roar was heard. Maeve jumped, her eyes flashing to the sky, where she could just barely make out a shape speeding through the clouds. It dropped, large and fast, and she backed away more than a few steps as the behemoth landed behind the other woman, sending up dirt and stone in a flurry of wind.
"Have you ever ridden a dragon?" Ashadel's hand lifted, ghosting lovingly over the nose of the immense winged lizard whose pelt shimmered with the colors of the deep sea, holding an ethereal quality that the shocked young woman could hardly put words to. "This is Nazaku. My traveling companion for... a considerable amount of time. Come, he won't bite. He likes it if you scratch right there – yes, there. Beneath the wing. See?"
Maeve flinched as the dragon lifted its wing and crooned, but her smile appeared moments later when she realized the beast wasn't going to eat her. She explored the hide beneath her fingers, finding it soft and lacking scales. "Nether... he's a netherdrake, isn't he?"
"Very good. The majority of them were lost when the Dark Portal was destroyed, but a good number survived. They flourish on Nalorn, or as best as they can outside of the natural environment. It has been hard, but... well, you'll see." She offered the girl a leg up, and climbed up easily into the saddle behind her.
"I'm going to... but that requires the Gate. No one is allowed to use that without reason."
"You're a good enough reason. Hold the pommel, and clench your knees. Once we're in the air, it'll be smooth sailing. Pull up your hood, and don't bother talking. It's colder and louder up there than most people like to believe." Her arms looped around the slender figure, and with a roar from the drake and a scream from the girl, they took flight.
Maeve slept for hours cradled against the larger woman, and she did not wake until noise began to beat at her and the steady ride became tilted and uncertain. Ashadel's arms tightened around her as Nazaku dipped into a landing, tearing another whimper from the girl. A whimper that became a gasp as Nazaku hit a filmy wall, barely perceptible from the air, and suddenly they were coasting above a runway bordered by mechanical gadgets and engineering marvels.
"The gnomes help keep the portal working beneath the shield. We couldn't keep it active as long as we do if it wasn't for their machinery."
She nodded, her eyes following the runway to where it met up with a pavilion lit by spotlights. Her gasp was one of fear and wonder, eyes riveted to the swirling portal that they were now on a collision course towards.
"They hate when I do this."
She caught the grin on Ashadel's lips moments before Nazaku roared again and tucked his wings, hitting the portal dead on. All at once, everything seemed to cease to exist. The saddle between her legs, the warmth of the woman behind her, even the feel of her clothes on her own skin all became nothing. She felt fear that bloomed into terror, a deep need to scream boiling in her chest, and then it was gone in the next moment, and all that she had lost was present again.
Nazaku burst from the portal into a flurry of activity, a roar sounding out as he spread his wings and took to the sky. His roar was answered, and Maeve made a childish sound of joy as more drakes fell into formation around them, dazzling colors displayed across velvet leather hides. They stood out stark against the sky, no clouds marring the expanse of blue that the single sun blazed brilliantly over. Beneath them, flat plains rolled out, the grass alive with herds of beasts that she had only heard of in storybooks.
"The Plains of Jade became the new home for the creatures that were nearly extinct when Draenor finally collapsed and we lost the portal. Some of those talbuk used to be mounts, most are now wild. The grass grows wild here, so there are only a few settlements. The clefthoof herd over there is fairly new. We were lucky to find a few lost ones roaming Azeroth during one of our first trips back once the Gate was reopened. As many as we could get through, we did.
But not all things survived. We had a hard time getting the elekk to stabilize here, and the last few that remain are protected in hopes that they'll pull through." Ashadel spoke as they flew, the accompanying dragons engaging in aerial acrobatics around them that left Maeve breathless. "To the west is the Ivory Coast, and the Silent Channel. You'll visit there once you're established. To the east is the Saresti Desert. You won't venture there for some time, mostly because we have had very little time to explore it ourselves. The dragons have taken to it with wild abandon, and a few of them tell us that there is more to find there than we could ever dream."
The landscape changed beneath them, flat plains becoming rolling hills and then rocky terrain. Cliffs of dark stone replaced the grass, and the wind became more frigid. Trees appeared, dark and forbidding, and even the dragons ceased their play and shot over the trees in silence.
"Dreamer's Fall. This is not a place that is wise to even think of venturing to. We lost one of our own here, and though the woods flourish... well, you can feel it. But it means we are close." Her hand lifted, pointing out a shape on the horizon that was swiftly growing. The trees below began to thin, glades seen more commonly until they were replaced by water. A glass-like surface reflected the sky and the dragons, several dipping lower to pull in their wings and crack the surface with a dive.
"Mirror Lake. On the west bank is Hearth, and on the east is Stone." Ashadel smirked. "Between hearth and stone, one will find home." She said no more, but nothing needed to be said as their destination loomed before them. The island was large, centered precisely in the middle of the immense lake, and Maeve could see only two bridges that led away from the central island to either of the sides.
But it was the building amidst it all, seemingly carved from a mountain of solid rock, that drew her attention. A large wall had fortified the lowermost portion, the only access by land through twin gatehouses on either side of the complex. Inside, the castle had grown upwards rather than simply cluttering the ground with towers and spires, formed with keeping the mountain intact as much as possible. As Nazaku drew closer and began to circle the tallest tower, banking towards a large balcony, Maeve began to feel fear press at her again. She clutched at her companion as the dragon landed, sliding down easily while still in the larger woman's grasp.
"Easy there. Get your land legs back, but don't take too long about it. I need to get you to the Common Hall before the Headmistress makes it there, or it's my hide that goes on the rack." Ashadel fussed with the straps of the saddle, finally pulling it free and sending Nazaku back into the air with a shout. There was a quiet moment, and then she whirled and grabbed Maeve's arm, steering her through a nearby archway and down several sets of stairs.
It took no time at all for Maeve to become utterly lost in the twisting hallways and numerous staircases, and she felt as though fire had taken root in her calves when Ashadel at last stopped before a large set of double doors. Turning to her, she drew off Maeve's cloak and tidied her hair, straightening the girl's dress as best she could before standing in front of her with her hands on her shoulders.
"Once you're past this door, everything changes. I know I practically kidnapped you, I know this has all come on fast, but your idiot of a father made this all so much harder. Just remember. If you need any help at all, ask. Silence is compliance, and you'll be expected to know your own strengths and weaknesses before long. Just... make it. No matter what, we're happy to have you here." She paused, long ears twitching for a moment before pressing a hand to one of the doors and pushing it open, slipping through. She gestured for the girl to follow, and without much choice remaining, Maeve complied.
She was struck at once with noise. The hall, while large, was filled with the chatter of those who filled four long tables. Men and women of every race carried on conversation as easily as breathing, and Maeve found herself at a loss as to what she was supposed to do. Before Ashadel could escape, she clutched her hand and tugged her near. "Where do I sit?"
The woman smiled, her voice audible despite the din. "Choose. I can't do that for you. Where you sit is where you will live. Follow your intuition, and don't second guess yourself." With that, the older woman disentangled herself and strode through the tables, stepping lightly up to a long line of tables at the front of the hall, where she quickly fell into conversation with a tall Draenei.
"Choose," Maeve muttered to herself, standing awkwardly by the door. She looked to each table, chewing her lip as her eyes took in every detail of every person seated, and she found herself drawn up through the crowded room until she reached an open spot along the left hand wall, where she quickly sat beside a human girl and managed a brief smile.
The girl grinned back, leaning over to let herself be heard over the conversations. "I'm Tyler." She pushed dark brown hair from her face, peering at Maeve with inquisitive green eyes.
"Maeve."
"It's nice to meet you. Nervous?"
Maeve grinned, and nodded once. "You have no idea."
"I think I do. I've heard some of the instructors here eat the students that don't do well." Tyler adjusted her cloak, flushing faintly.
"That's not true. It can't be. Ash -..."
She ceased speaking, noticing that the room had fallen nearly dead silent, all eyes focused on the large double doors that were now slowly opening. They slammed against the walls, the sound echoing through the room. When it at last faded, another voice sounded, and Maeve felt all other distractions fade away.
"Welcome, students, to the Academy."
