A/N: I've re-written this chapter several times and I'm actually a bit pleased at how it turned out (so let me down easily if you have massive criticism! P) After this chapter, I'm going to shift the focus back on Anasteria's thoughts since I think I've sufficiently given enough time for everyone to get to know Rowan.Hope you enjoy this, and if so, please leave a comment! This is my first fanfiction and pretty much any advice will be helpful.

Two Elves, One Flask


Nightfall did come an hour later, bringing a torrent of wind and rain in tow. The two elves set up camp quickly, but no amount of haste could save them from being drenched to the bone. It was time for dinner but lighting a fire was out of the question, as was hunting. They had to resort to Rowan's meager rations, or as the label read, "Gourmet Portable Meal." He handed the "Smoked Boar with Stewed Vegetables" packet to Anasteria and she tore it open as excitedly as though it were a gift from Greatfather Winter himself. Chewing on the leathery strip of meat, she pointed to a pair of saddlebags that sat in a dripping heap with the other supplies.

"What's inside of it?" she asked Rowan.

He looked over at them and realized that he had never checked. They left Astranaar in such a hurry that it had never occurred to him that the previous owner might have stowed something useful within. Rowan unbuckled the flap and felt around in the leather bag. There were a few heavy coins and, ah, a flask. He unscrewed the tarnished cap and sampled the liquid. It burned down his throat on its way down, forcing a small cough to escape him.

"Definitely a flask of Cuergo's Gold," he stated. Humans and Dwarves loved the drink and barrels of it sat aging under the inns of Stormwind and Ironforge. He offered her the bottle, awaiting her response to the strong liquor.

"By the Sun!" she exclaimed through a fit of coughing. "It's like bottled fire."

They passed the flask between each other as the rain beat noisily on the canvas tent. The tension from earlier that evening melted away and they warmed to each other's company after a few swigs.

"It was so funny.." Anasteria was saying, struggling to contain her laughter, "There you were..on hands and knees.. tracking my footprints. And I was right in front of you!"

"Laugh all you want, I'll get my revenge," Rowan replied, a grin spreading across his face. She looked so beautiful in the dim light of the lantern. The rain had darkened her hair to a seductive shade of brown that reminded him of cinnamon.

She leaned toward him, raising her hand to slap him playfully on the shoulder but he caught it mid-air.

"Are all Sin'dorei females this abusive when they drink?" he laughed, his hand still clasping hers.

"Are you calling me abusive?! I'll show you.." Without giving him a chance to answer, she leaned forward and kissed him, flicking her tongue across his lips before she drew back.

The kiss ended much too soon for his liking and he pulled her in for another. Her lips parted and he slipped his tongue inside, exploring her mouth. She broke away and buried her face into his neck, nibbling her way up to the point of his ear. A slight smile played across her lips as she felt him shiver with pleasure. The ears were one of the most sensitive parts of an elf and she tilted her head slightly, inviting him to do the same to her. He ran a fingertip along the elegant curve of her ear before brushing his lips against it. Her body ached for more than just foreplay and she hooked her arms under his shoulders, pulling him on top of her. With his hips pressed to hers, he pulled the collar of her robe aside and began kissing her bare shoulder. A small cry of pain escaped her lips and he looked up at her questioningly.

"It's nothing," she breathed. "Keep going."

He frowned, then pulled her to a sitting position. It was clear, even in the low light of the lantern, what was causing her pain. Light blue bruises clouded the soft pale skin. They looked recent and Rowan started to ask where they had come from, but the words died in his throat. They had been arguing that afternoon. He had grabbed her.

"I hurt you," he whispered. It mattered nothing to him whether or not it was accidental. He'd forgotten his own strength and harmed her..all because she offended his people. Night Elves had a strong reputation for being calm and stalwart, and there he was showing her that his kind were nothing more than self-proud bullies.

"It isn't your fault, Rowan. I knew I was winding you up, but I kept going. I get that way after I've.." she trailed off, then re-formed her sentence. "I'm sorry for saying that to you."

He gave a deep sigh, "I'm not really offended by what you said, now that I think of it. If I went home to Darnassus, I'd be arrested. I'm not sure that I'm a Night Elf anymore. I don't know what else to call myself though."

"You'll always be an elf," she said, adding, "I don't think anything, short of cosmetic surgery on your ears, could change that."

He chuckled at the thought of himself with round ears.

"It'll be nice for you.. when you get to go home," he said delicately. She had told him nothing about her life and he wasn't sure if it was a touchy subject for her.

She sat there a moment, idly twirling a lock of hair around her fingertips. Should she tell him about her parents? About how she chose to serve in a warzone instead of returning to her family? Or, her heart skipped a beat, about Tasius? The thoughts rushed to her mind, dizzying her already impaired senses.

"Anasteria," he prompted.

"No," she said curtly. His eyebrow raised and she continued on, "Unless 'happy' can be construed to mean forced marriage with a suitor handpicked by your parents."

Rowan frowned at the thought of such an arrangement. Given the long lifespan of his people, marriage was a rare occasion that was never forced or rushed. Blood Elves had a greatly reduced life expectancy, and, with the war decimating much of their population, must take marriage and childbearing very seriously. He wasn't sure how to respond.

"So you don't want to be married?" he asked tentatively.

"It's not really that. My choice was taken away from me. The choice over how to live my life was decided for me by my father, and if I went against him.. well, I did go against him. He's effectively disowned me."

Disowned?

She saw the puzzled look on his face and smirked, "Yes, Rowan. You're running with a full-blood rebel."

"I don't think I understand. Your father will refuse to recognize you as his daughter?" His mind reeled at such a cruel punishment. To deny one's own child. To pretend like they've never existed?

"That's exactly right. I have two younger sisters and an older brother. They can afford to cast away a bad seed," she replied, masking her sorrow with strained confidence.

"What will you do?"

"I don't know. I can't very well go back to Silvermoon. Probably not Undercity either." She paused as an inkling of a thought came to mind. It would be possible that she and Rowan could live as outlaws for the rest of their lives. Not a completely appealing idea, but they would always be free.

He studied her face, hoping that he succeeded in steering her toward the thought of them together without actually mentioning it. Rowan had gone over it in his mind, wondering how to bring it up. When he realized that she might actually miss her family and homeland, he felt a pang of sadness. Now that she told him about her situation, he brightened.

"I suppose, if my company doesn't bother you, I could go with you," she finally said.

"We would always be living on the fringes, you know. It would be dangerous. I don't know what we would do about money either," he said uneasily, frustrated at not taking those thoughts into consideration beforehand. He was supposed to be convincing her.

Another smirk crossed her lips. "Are you really telling me that you wouldn't know what to do about money, Mr. Stealth-sap-and-pickpocket?"

She was right. Though he never used his pickpocketing skills for common theft, he did know how to do it. He was already a murderer, what harm could petty thieving do?

He acquiesced, "Yes, I suppose I could. More importantly though, we'd constantly be moving around contested areas. We couldn't settle down anywhere for long. And from my experience, women don't enjoy nomadic lifestyles."

The Blood Elf's eyebrow arched inquiringly at mention of his "experience." Rowan stayed silent though, not wanting to take the bait. He had a few tepid relationships with women who turned out to be crazy, vain, possessive, or all three. His last so-called girlfriend, Cerie, set her pet crocolisk on him after they fought about " setting boundaries." The boundary in question was the one she had set up to forbid him from talking to any female that wasn't named Cerie (mothers exempt).

Anasteria watched Rowan's face, amused at his visible discomfort as he visited some undesirable memory. She straightened and took his hand into hers.

"Being just dorei without a 'quel,' 'sin,' or 'kal" attached to the front of the word seems very freeing. But it also seems kind of scary. Let me think about it tonight. I'll let you know tomorrow if we need to keep heading toward the Barrens or not."

He kissed her softly in reply and they spent the remaining hours of darkness with their arms wrapped tightly around the other.


Dorei: elves (literally "children")