Randall Garret was back in Stormwind Keep, and he knew his abilities would be tested by the tense situation playing out in front of him. On one side of the throne room an irate King Varian sat fighting the urge to go for his sword. On the other, an infuriated Grand Magister of Silvermoon stood barely containing the urge to slaughter everyone in sight.

"Where is Braelyn?" Rommath demanded again. "Where is she?!"

"Grand Magister Rommath," Varian said, voice seething with anger, "out of kindness for Ambassador Hawke, I am willing to overlook the disrespectful way you're treating me, and the threats you've made against my people." The King turned his eyes to the far corner of the room, where his advisor was cowering in fear, the man's finely woven tunic still smouldering. "But you will calm yourself."

Any other man would have been intimidated by the King's fierce gaze in to backing down, but not Rommath. Randall could tell that Varian's words had been like oil thrown on a fire elemental. Thinking quickly, the Agent of Light moved forward, placing himself between the blood elf and human men. He stared directly into Rommath's eyes, willing the man to calm down.

"I'd think twice before doing anything rash, my lord," Randall said to the Grand Magister. "Why don't you try telling us what's happened? It's been at least ten days since the ambassador was last in Stormwind."

"That's right," Genn Greymane said, just as eager as Randall to defuse the situation. "We last saw Braelyn after the trial, at the debrief."

"I escorted her to the portal personally," Varian bit out. "Her last words to me were that she was looking forward to being reunited with you."

Rommath began to calm down, though the anger was replaced with fear. Lorelai had been certain that her attackers, the ones that had abducted his wife, were Stormwind soldiers. Varian had to know about them, if he didn't...

"Braelyn did make it home from that meeting," Rommath conceded, his voice levelling out, although his body remained tensed. For all the talk of peace, Stormwind would always be the home of the enemy to him. "A few days ago she decided to go to Darkshore, to visit the grave of a friend of hers. I was unable to go with her, so she was accompanied by our friend, Lorelai Sunblessed. Last night they were due in Darnassus. They never arrived."

Rommath began pacing, something he always did when he had a troubled mind. "This morning I was summoned to Darnassus by Odariah, my wife's cousin. Lorelai had been found half-dead, and alone, outside the ruins of Auberdine by some travellers. She managed to tell her rescuers, and then me this afternoon, that they were attacked by Stormwind soldiers."

King Varian shot to his feet. "What?!"

"According to Lorelai," Rommath continued, eyeing the king warily, "they were riding along when their mounts were shot out from under them. They were then surrounded by a group of fifteen or so people clad in the armor and tabard of Stormwind soldiers.

"I investigated the scene before coming here, fearing that Braelyn had fallen by the roadside, and gone noticed by the women who found Lorelai. There were signs of a fight, but no Braelyn. I did, however, find these." Rommath handed Randall a few Alliance badges, and a folded scrap of parchment. the guard handed them to the king who growled in disbelief when he saw them.

"What are they?" Rommath demanded.

"Officer's insignia," Varian said, "from the Siege of Orgrimmar campaign." The king unfolded the parchment and frowned as he read aloud the note's contents, "'Death to the traitor. Death to the blood elf's whore. Death to all those who support the false and unjust peace.'"

An outbreak of scandalised whispers broke out at the king's words. Braelyn was well liked at Stormwind Keep, at least among the staff. The nobles were a bit disgruntled that a mere adventurer had been elevated to such a position, but when were the nobles not disgruntled?

"And you honestly thought I had a hand in this?" Varian demanded, his own anger mounting. "I assure you, Rommath, that I did not. If I'd wanted to take her away from you, I would've done it already. I could have easily done so, and I most definitely would not have needed to kill anyone else to do it."

Rommath growled. "Can you blame me for coming here?"

Varian shook his head. "I will look into this," he promised the blood elf, a determined glint in his eyes. "Is there anything else you can tell me?"

"Braelyn and Lorelai had been staying at the Grove of the Ancients in Darkshore. I went to speak with the druids there, and they told me that Braelyn's pet dragonhawk had flown into the camp after midnight, shrieking in distress. She'd been injured, and I'm guessing that whoever took Braelyn tried to kill her pet to prevent it from aiding its master, or fetching help."

"This is a despicable business," Varian snarled, "and if I find out that my men were responsible, then may the Light have mercy on them, for they shall receive none from me."

"I will leave you to it, then," Rommath said, though he very much wanted to stay and beat the truth out of every soldier he could lay his hands on. "I will be returning to Darnassus. High Priestess Tyrande has been kind enough to have her own people looking for Braelyn and caring for Lorelai, but I must keep searching for my wife myself."

"I understand," the king replied. "I will alert the Council to what has happened, and ask them to keep their eyes and ears open. I'll let you know what I discover."

Rommath bowed, not trusting himself to say anything else, and teleported out of Stormwind Keep.

As Varian started bellowing instructions at his staff, Randall Garret frowned. He could feel hands that were not his own manipulating the fate of Azeroth, and Braelyn Hawke in particular. He also knew, without knowing why, that this time, he was not to get involved. He let out a sigh. Being told to stay out of the affairs of ordinary mortals meant that something big was happening, something that they had to work through on their own.

This knowledge did not sit well with Randall. It was clear that they were all being played, although the whos and the whys were unknown to him.

"Have faith, Braelyn Hawke," Randall murmured, and muttered a quick prayer for her safety. It was all he could do.

The moment Braelyn had seen her attackers, she knew that something wasn't quite right, besides the whole 'Alliance soldiers attacking the Ambassador and her friend' thing. However, the sudden shock of her mount's collapse, and the fact that she and Lorelai were outnumbered two-to-one, meant that she'd had no time to process what that something was.

During her three days of captivity, though, she had nothing but time to figure it all out. Firstly, she remembered little things from the fight that hadn't seemed important at the time, but now screamed at her for attention. The soldiers were dressed in the heavy plate armor of Stormwind officers of the warrior and paladin variety, but when Violet had been knocked out of the sky, it was with a dagger, not a throwing knife.

Secondly, before passing out, Lorelai had said that she'd been poisoned. The priest had mentioned a drug used to slow down a person's circulatory system, preventing them from bleeding to death, or ensuring that they did so slowly. It was if their attackers wanted to keep Lorelai alive, while making it look they'd done their best to kill her.

While it was not unheard of for other classes to use poisons in the case of adventurers or mercenaries, it was not the done thing in the military. Especially for non-rogue officers.

The final thing bugging Braelyn was the way her attackers had fought. They were slow and awkward, as if uncomfortable or unused to their armor. Some of them were downright ungainly, so much so that Braelyn felt that if she and Lorelai had not been so outnumbered, they would have fought the attackers off easily.

After three days, in their company, Braelyn had also seen and heard many things to confirm her suspicions. Her captors were not Alliance soldiers.

The armor, weapons, and tabards were enough to fool someone unfamiliar with the military, or in the heat of a quick battle. A closer inspection, however, revealed that they were of poor quality, and looked cheap, something that a newly enlisted recruit would wear, but an officer would never be seen dead in. The tabards, especially. Soldiers held those things as sacred, a physical representation of all that they fought for. They were well made, and well looked after.

Braelyn had grown up surrounded by Alliance officers. They were generally well spoken, and highly educated, coming from either noble or merchant backgrounds. Some managed to work their way up from the lower ranks, but by the time they did so, they had achieved a certain spit and polish.

Braelyn's captors were charming when they wanted to be, but it was a façade, and underneath it was all the upfront, brutally honest, rough around the edges style of the non-nobles. With a liberal dose of Booty Bay slums for good measure.

So her captors were either lower ranked soldiers pretending to be officers, or they weren't soldiers at all. Braelyn believed they were mercenaries, although that could be just because she couldn't bear the idea of the Alliance harbouring such creatures within their ranks.

Braelyn sighed as she fought to keep her breakfast in her stomach. Her injuries from the battle were minor; cuts and bruises, and a slight concussion. She had been poisoned, though, she thought. Nothing deadly, just something to keep her weak and nauseous, and unable to fight.

She thought of Lorelai, and prayed that her friend had received help in time. Poison or no poison, there was only so much blood a person could lose before they were unable to be saved.

Her parents must have found out by now. They would be so worried for her. Her mother would probably be in Darkshore right now, shaking down everyone she came across for information, while her husband stood by with his sword in hand, looking intimidating.

And Rommath... Braelyn felt a wave of longing come over her when she thought of her husband. How furious and wild with worry he must be. She remembered how reluctant he'd been to say goodbye to her when she left Silvermoon, unnerved by his nightmares.

She wished she knew where she was, but she'd been unconscious during the journey from Darkshore. She knew she was near the ocean, as she could hear the sound of waves crashing against the shoreline, and the cries of seagulls flying overhead.

The rooms she was kept in had windows, but they were set high above her, close to the ceiling. She'd give anything to be able to see something other than the stone walls around her, to breathe fresh air, and feel sunlight on her skin.

Another bout of nausea washed over her, and Braelyn cursed the one responsible for it. As she was fighting the urge to vomit, the door open and closed behind her.

"Oh, dear," an unfamiliar voice said. "Do I need to fetch a healer?"

"Don't bother," Braelyn snapped. "I'd rather be ill than deal with one of those bastards." She turned around to find a young woman not much younger than herself watching her with amused eyes. She had short black hair and blue eyes that were cunning, and far older than the woman they belonged to.

"Who are you?" Braelyn asked, eyeing her visitor with suspicion. This woman was very different to the men keeping her captive.

"My name is Vanessa," the woman replied, and to Braelyn's surprise, held her hand out to shake, even removing her leather glove to do so. Out of habit, Braelyn took the offered hand and shook, eyes darting down at their clasped hands. Her eyes widened in shock when she saw the tattoo on the woman's hand.

It was a cog... the sign of the Defias Brotherhood.

"I see you recognise who I am?"

"You're Vanessa VanCleef!" Braelyn said in disbelief. "What are you doing here? I thought you and your goons would be too busy causing trouble in Westfall to go around kidnapping Ambassadors."

Vanessa laughed. "Yes, I can see why Wrynn made you a diplomat with tact like that," she said. "But, to answer your question, when the price is right my people are more than willing to diversify our business. Besides, since Azeroth entered this glorious time of peace, the Alliance has had the money and personnel to spare on securing places like Westfall, and take proper care of the refugees. I must broaden my base of operations in order to survive. Nothing personal, Ambassador Hawke; it's just business."

Braelyn muttered something about what Vanessa could do with her business, before sitting down heavily. What the hell did they use on me?

"Am I to be ransomed? Held hostage indefinitely for some political purpose?" she asked. "I should warn you, the last time that happened, it didn't exactly work out the way my captor expected."

"Oh, I know," Vanessa laughed. "I've heard your story, and I must confess I admire you greatly." That caused Braelyn to make a loud scoffing sound. "It's true. It must have taken a great deal of strength to survive all that, not to mention deal with all the fuss surrounding your wedding."

Braelyn said nothing, so Vanessa shrugged her shoulders and continued speaking. "You will not be killed, nor will you be ransomed as such. You are simply being kept out of the way."

"Kept out of the way of what?" Braelyn demanded, eyes flashing with anger.

"You're a smart woman, Braelyn Hawke," Vanessa said, heading to the door. "I'm sure you'll figure it out." She laughed again as she closed the door behind her, Braelyn's glass shattering against the wood.

"Damn it!" she swore, and for want of anything else to do, went back to bed. She was so tired, that it was not long before she fell asleep.

Rommath detested Booty Bay with a passion. It was filthy and full of the most untrustworthy scum in Azeroth. He'd rather be back in Stormwind having tea with Varian Wrynn than endure another second in this miserable tavern full of drunken louts and the stench of rotting garbage.

But Boxer had said that if they were to find any information on where Braelyn was, it would be in Booty Bay. Considering the goblin walked a fine line between diplomat and shady businessman, Rommath had to trust the man's instincts on the matter.

The blood elf watched as the goblin slid a bag full of coins across the counter to the barkeeper. The night elf had looked very forgetful, but when he lifted the purse and felt how heavy it was, he suddenly got a lot more talkative.

Rommath's fingers dug into the table top. He was desperate for any news that would help him find his wife. His heart clenched painfully within his chest at the thought that Braelyn was lost to him for good.

He wouldn't survive another separation.

"You look like you could use a drink, my friend," a human male said, plonking himself in the chair across from Rommath. He pushed a mug of ale towards the Grand Magister, who glared at it, and then the interloper with eyes that promised a painful death.

"I am not your friend," he said in a deadly whisper, "and I am not stupid enough to drink the swill that passes as alcohol around here, especially not when it's handed to me by a shady rogue."

To Rommath's increasing frustration, the unidentified man just threw his head back and laughed.

"Well, that just shows that you're a smart man!"

"I am not in the mood for idle chit-chat, fool," Rommath hissed. "Begone, before I demonstrate just how clever I can be."

"No need to get hostile," the blonde haired rogue chuckled, raising his hands in surrender. "I came over because I heard you were looking for Braelyn Hawke, but if you don't want to chat..."

Rommath's hand shot out and grabbed the rogue's wrist tightly. "How do you know Braelyn?" he demanded. "You have five seconds before I set you on fire."

"Everybody's heard of Braelyn, blood elf," the annoying human said, brown eyes dancing with amusement, "but I have heard a few things that might interest you."

"Speak quickly."

"Well, have you spoken to King Varian?" The rogue winced as the grip on his wrist tightened painfully.

"Do not waste my time," Rommath growled. "The king was one of the first people I went to see."

"But did you ask the right questions?" The rogue held up a hand to ward off the breaking of his wrist. "I mean, you did know that Wrynn fancies your wife, right?"

Rommath froze in shock. For a full minute he was unable to speak, the surprise robbing him of coherent thought. "What?" he finally managed to bite out.

"Ah, I can see you weren't aware of it... " the human muttered, rubbing the wrist Rommath had dropped in shock. "In Stormwind, it's common knowledge that King Varian likes the Ambassador to Silvermoon in a less than professional manner. In fact, it's said that his biggest regret is that he sent her to Darkshore, and therefore into your path."

"Braelyn never told me... " Rommath began, but the rogue interrupted with a shake of his head.

"She didn't know," the human said. "She only ever thought about the King as her boss. For her, the only man she cares about is you."

A small part of Rommath's mind was touched by Braelyn's devotion to him, but the majority of it was consumed by rage and jealousy. He remembered the king's words about how it easy it would be for him to steal Braelyn away from the blood elf. His heart began to race, blood pounding in his ears.

He stood up. Ignoring his unwanted companion, Rommath strode over to the bar and picked Boxer up by the goblin's long green ear. "We need to get back to Silvermoon."

The bar fell silent as the mage summoned a portal and disappeared, the goblin ambassador tucked under one arm.

In the corner, the human rogue grinned broadly and glanced over to where a blood elf woman was sitting in the shadows. Jessina Suntouched returned the smile, raising her glass in a toast to a job well done.

Braelyn stood below one of the windows in her prison cell, ears straining to catch the conversation taking place on the other side of the wall. It wasn't a real prison cell, in fact it looked like the room was part of a decent sized house. There was evidence of recent repairs to the ceiling and one of the walls, suggesting that this place had suffered significant damage of some kind or fallen into disrepair.

Was it repaired for me? Or is it someone's home. Oh, Rommath, where am I?

The voices outside were faint, and Braelyn could barely hear anything over the wind that had picked up that afternoon. What she did hear was alarming. One of the speakers was definitely not one of the people who kidnapped her. They sounded too... cultured, like an elf. But they lacked that melodic serenity that characterised the night elves, and the bold self-confidence that marked the Sin'dorei.

They spoke again, mentioning something about blood elves... the Sunreavers! They were talking about Aethas. Another few snippets and Braelyn realised she was listening to a high elf.

A high elf? Why would a high elf be here? Why would a high elf want her kept out of the way? Something was really wrong here, and Braelyn felt like she knew what it was, she just had to think.

"There's a simple spell we can use to turn our blue eyes green," she heard the mystery high elf say. "The colour of our eyes is the only way most humans know how to tell us apart from the Sin'dorei, they'll see us and think they're under attack by Silvermoon."

And Braelyn understood.

"Oh, gods help me," Braelyn said in horror, "They'll start a war. I have to get out of here!"

"And how do you plan on accomplishing that?" a voice said from the doorway.

Braelyn was paralysed with shock, recognising the voice as belonging to someone she never thought she'd see again. Or even wanted to.

After a few minutes passed in tense silence, Braelyn willed herself to turn around. Leaning against the door, blonde hair dishevelled by the wind, and brown eyes sparkling with mischief, was a man who had betrayed her in a most despicable way.

"Jack?"

AN - The mysterious Jack appears! And will Rommath murder the king in a violent and bloody rampage?

Next Chapter: Braelyn confronts Jack about their past, while the Kirin Tor come under fire.