A/N: Sorry it's been such awhile. In this chapter, I really wanted to demonstrate the contrast in Velexia before and after the whole death knight transformation. Beware of some upcoming gore, by the way. Hope you guys like it.

Enjoy!

Velexia dreamt this time. Dreams were a foreign thing to a death knight. With Arthas being the driving force in her head, she was only able to envision what she wanted. Her feelings and thoughts were not her own. Now the Lich King had washed his hands of her and his army, leaving his soldiers to their own conscience as it slowing ate away at them. Lately, the fate of the fallen warriors had been looking exceptionally grim. Most of her comrades were either killed or had gone insane without the support and power of Arthas. When you've devoted your life to such a bloodthirsty cause, how is one supposed to adjust to the norms of day to day routine? The activities Velexia had enjoyed prior to her recruitment no longer allowed her the same comfort they once had. Her hands were accustomed to bloodshed and destruction, not helping or healing. The fondness in her touch had left her deft fingertips, replaced by the addiction to wound and maim. The kindness in her eyes was dead, craving, instead, the visions of chaos.

Her future was once littered with promise and glory. Velexia was the first born of her family, a family she cannot bring herself to remember. She had been chosen to be a protector, their saving grace. Her parents were blessed at her gifts in the ways of the Light, anxiously awaiting the day when she would become the crusader she was destined to be. Of this, she dreamed. The disgusting Light pervaded the haven she found in sleeping and it would not let her escape.

Velexia entered the cathedral quietly. Beams of light seemed to extend to the farthest reaches of the vaulted ceiling, leaving nothing in darkness. Her sapphire skin glowed with innocence and enthusiasm, her eyes bright with youth. She scanned the large, crowded room , looking for any sign of a familiar face. A saccharine grin spread across her lips as she spotted him. He greeted her with an equally charming smile as he waved her over.

"I was afraid you wouldn't show," the young male draenei chided.

Velexia released a feminine giggle, "I can leave if you'd like, Revak." She turned on her heel, beginning to depart.

"Oh no you don't," he said as he playfully pulled her back.

Revak stood a head and a half taller than Velexia. His form was slightly thinner than other draenei boys his age and his skin matched Velexia's in color and brightness. Revak and Velexia had been friends for several years, meeting through their parents. Like her, Revak had showed promise with the Light and was meant to serve the crusade against the Scourge.

"It's certainly different from the Exodar, don't you think," he asked with an exploratory look.

"Well, it's definitely brighter," she answered as she shielded her eyes with the back of her hand.

The echo of a man's voice bounced off the stone walls, "Attention younglings, it warms my heart to see all of your bright, smiling faces this morning and I'm very proud to see the lot of you aligning yourselves to this noble and worthy cause."

The man was too eager for Velexia's liking as he greeted the prospective students in the cathedral's foyer, but she did her best to not let his attitude count against her time here. As she was assessing the other adults around her, hoping that none of them were as zealous as the speaker, the man finished up his salutation. As the students began filing into other rooms, Velexia linked arms with Revak, "Shall we?"


A year had passed and Velexia had found herself far away from her lifelong friend and placed at a dilapidated camp on the outskirts of the Western Plaguelands. She spent her days and nights alone, sharing a tent with a rather talkative human female named Isla. Day in and day out, Velexia would wake up and patrol the area around her, killing any Scourge she came across and reporting any and all findings to her commanding officer. This was not the life she had envisioned in the service of the Light. She was expecting more excitement! Revak had been stationed in Kalimdor, hoping to lend a hand in the brewing Silithid invasion. Contact between them had become scarce and Velexia could feel the hurt and resentment bubbling in her veins, spilling over into her daily approach. She snapped instead of laughed, sneered instead of smiled.

After a rather irritating conversation with Isla over whether the undead in Undercity were really undead like the Scourge or rather humanoid creatures, Velexia left for her patrol earlier than usual. She sat atop her warhorse, yawning as the sun did its best to permeate the dense fog and muggy atmosphere. The path through the neglected town of Andorhal became a routine for her as she let her horse follow the road as if it was on a track. Velexia was almost tempted to fall asleep on her saddle when she noticed a trampled path to the left of her. She had just been through here yesterday and found it hard to believe something could flatten such overgrown, thick grass like that when nothing was there the other day. Velexia dismounted and led her horse down the path by the animal's leather reins. She stopped along the trail when a small house came into view. It was a stout, two-story house made of dull red bricks. It was odd. She had never seen this house before, but from the look of the building, Velexia estimated that it had to have been here for at least a decade. She tied the reins around a rotting tree a few feet off the makeshift road and approached the house cautiously, her hand gingerly reaching back for the handle on her sword.

"Welcome, Velexia," a raspy voice echoed. She had no idea where it came from as she looked around her. It seemed to resonate from everywhere, but from nowhere in particular. It was as if the voice had come from inside her head. By now, her sword was gripped tightly in her hands as she inched even closer toward the door. Her knuckles turned white and her palms began to sweat at she eyed the doorknob. Velexia made a note that she was going to be really pissed if this turned out to be nothing more than an abandoned house and a case of her overactive imagination. The splintering, wooden door swung open. Velexia cocked her head to the side as she spotted…nothing in the doorway. A long sigh escaped her lips as she closed her eyes and lowered her weapon, the tip of the blade nestled into the dry soil. She opened up her eyes just in time to catch a glimpse of a long purple tendril as it reached out to wrap around her waist. Her horse whinnied as it snapped the reins tied to the tree, racing into the fog. The outside scenery rushed by in a blur as she was pulled through the doorway and into the house. The tendril relinquished her waist as it gripped her throat. A hooded figure laughed as her eyes rolled back into her head.

"Little draenei, I have been watching you," the ominous raspy voice perked up again.

Velexia could feel her voice trying to escape her constricting throat, only to reply with coughs and wheezes instead. Her peripheral vision seemed to get hazier as her head felt lighter and lighter with each passing second.

"There, there, child. Don't worry. You're in perfectly good hands," said the voice in a cheap and empty effort to reassure the now unconscious draenei.


That night changed Velexia's life forever. Commander Mograine had convinced her of a truly worthy cause, one without promises devoid of any meaning, one that gave her the amount of power and drive she needed. She fell in love with everything it called upon to become a death knight. The army of the Lich King's followers did not mess around. They were sure to get things done and Velexia could taste victory inching closer with each passing day, until she was called upon to do something that forced her to forget everything she ever knew.

A recent batch of captured Argent Dawn crusaders had been placed in a nearby containment camp, which happened to be a deserted barracks. The wooden building was barren save for the shackled and beaten prisoners. Supposedly, one of the draenei captives had been causing quite a fuss and Velexia was called upon to deal with this problem. As she entered the room, several faces stared at her as she walked towards the draenei. Some turned away, others cursed and spit in her direction. Her axe dragged lightly against the wooden floor, leaving shallow grooves in its wake. The male draenei looked up from his shackles, his eyes displayed deep, dark bags.

"Velexia," he whispered, "I'd know that face anywhere."

Velexia furrowed her brows in puzzlement. How in Azeroth did he know her name?

"This isn't you. You're stronger than this," the prisoner continued.

"Revak?" she questioned. It had been almost two years since they had last seen each other. Sadly, the first time they had locked eyes since they both left on different gryphons was littered with sadness as they both realized what Velexia was here to do. A sharp voice awakened her reminiscing as it shouted into the building, encouraging her to get moving.

"Don't worry, I understand. But you must not let them break you," Revak looked into her eyes, searching for some sort of recognition from the girl he grew up with on the tiny isles they called home. Velexia closed her eyes. She could feel the walls of her heart constricting, it's metaphorical doors slamming shut. When she opened her eyes, Revak knew she was gone. Whatever shred of familiarity he saw in those wide eyes had disappeared. If he didn't know any better, he would have said that he felt the temperature drop several degrees. He shut his eyes tight, not wanting to look at what she had become. Velexia threw her axe behind her shoulder, angling it above her head. She brought it down, sending all of her weight along with it. The blade effortlessly sliced through the draenei's neck, the emergence of thick scarlet blood clashing against the fading blue of his skin. A soft thump sounded on the hard wood as the fellow prisoners gasped and screamed. Velexia winced a bit as the hot coppery liquid hit her face. She wiped the droplets from her cheek with the back of her hand, inspecting the fresh blood. She calmly walked out of the building, almost robotic in her movements like she wasn't in control of herself. The commanding officer grasped her shoulder and commended her on a job well done.

Later that night, Velexia screamed and sobbed until her throat was raw. Sleep offered her no comfort, but from that day forward she closed herself to the world, taking great pleasure and pain in how easily and quickly she could end anyone's life but her own.


Dominic watched the sleeping woman with great curiosity even though he certainly wouldn't admit it. The blood elf observed as her face uncontrollably displayed an array of emotions. He saw her frown. He saw her face contort in pain. He even thought he saw a small smile adorn her lips. Dominic pulled up a chair to watch the facial festivities even closer, but recoiled when he found that her pillow was stained with wetness. She was crying. Dominic quietly scoured the house for some sort of rag, but any he found was covered with dirt from Cierdan's herbalism experiments and he had a feeling that leaving a big streak of soil across her face would not be a good idea. He sighed, thinking of the only alternative. Dominic pulled his sleeve down, stretching it over his fingers as he dabbed at the corners of her eyes. He tried to keep the rest of his body as far away from her as possible, stretching his arm out as he turned his face and chest. Dominic froze in place as she felt her cold fingers wrap around his wrist, holding his hand in place. He leaned over her, trying to unravel his hand from her grasp. He should have learned by now to never trust a crying woman, whether they were asleep or not. Dominic was genuinely surprised when Velexia had seized him by the throat, his hand still clasped in hers.

"Never touch me again," she said softly, but harshly as she gave his throat a final squeeze.

Dominic gave her a sly smile, not allowing her to see him in a perturbed state, "Well maybe you shouldn't cry."

"What I do in my sleep, or in any other state for that matter, is of no business of yours," she said, lightly pushing him,

'What a self-righteous bitch! I was trying to help against my better judgment,' he mentally chided himself. "No touching, you say?" he sneered as he scooted closer to her on the bed, leaning over her propped up form. His green eyes glowed brighter with each passing moment of mischief.

"You think you can intimidate me?" she laughed, "You so easily forget that I have disemboweled your brethren, murdered friends, tortured families."

Dominic's blood seethed with anger as he remembered hearing the news of his sister's passing at the hands of the Lich King's army. Her body had been recovered in parts. He reached down, unsheathing his dagger and placing it against her healing wound. He pressed the blade into the injury, "You positively disgust me. The only reason I would touch you would be to skin you alive and then feed you to the rabid grizzlies."

Velexia smiled at his tenacity, relishing in the mutual hatred, "Well, if that truly is the case…get your putrid, blood elf carcass the hell off me."

"With pleasure," Dominic rose and immediately entered the washroom, rinsing whatever blood had stained his blade. He could feel his blood pumping faster and his face growing hotter. He could identify the loathing flowing through him, but what else? Whatever emotions were stirring within his core took a backseat to his top priority. Everything else could fall by the wayside. The only thing Dominic really needed right now was…a cold shower.

A/N: That's it for this chapter. I wanted to give a brief background. Trust me, there is still a lot left to unfold. Feel free to review with complaints, criticisms, and/or compliments! : )

-Tinyminx