Note: To make the story more consistent with the intro and explain the different perspectives, there are new short scenes at the beginning of Chapter 2: A smokin' hot, short redhead; Chapter 4: Good ole' Fennore; and Chapter 8: Syl-van-as

From here on out, there should be no more chapter replacements like this.

Disclaimer: The characters and settings created by Blizzard Entertainment Inc in this story are owned by their creators. I do not claim them as mine in any way, shape or form. I am not receiving monetary profit from this story and no copyright infringement is intended.

Modern day, Pandaria…

Tempest turned back at the last moment and closed the door immediately behind General Blaize.

Both Liadrin and Tempest heard him swear and bang on the door.

Liadrin stood from her chair and folded hands in front of herself. "Tempest, is that really the way to treat my latest penitent? Blaize was good enough to come in here and give his confession, with Kael'thas and Pyorin, too…" Liadrin lingered, "Well, I can't finish that sentence. He's still such a bastard, isn't he?"

Sorn warned her, "That wasn't very kind, Lia."

Tempest shouted at Blaize through the door, "Look, this isn't Tempest Keep, nor is it the Black Temple, Blaize! Three people affiliated with the New Sunfury Army can have a private conversation alone in a room if they want to."

The women rolled their eyes and waited. Finally, soft tones of Pyorin's voice were apparent, and then both his and Blaize's footfalls departed together.

Liadrin chided herself, "Well, he's desperately worried about his son. Nor has anyone been very, well, nice to Blaize during this mission."

"Because he went right back to acting like the same old General Asshat again—You know, I'd forgotten about some of the asinine things he said and did back then."

"Tempest, please. Things are tough enough on all of us without name calling."

"Though that was a particularly good one," Sorn looked up from what he was tracing in the air with a purple crystalline stylus. He was scrolling up through what had been written over the past few days, checking things here and there.

Liadrin's cheeks flushed, "Tell us what you wanted to say, please, Tempest. After that, you really should go and rest. I'm relieved that Blaize began to remember, and I also know it wasn't easy for any of you. Confessions take a lot out of a person, emotionally."

Tempest paced, looked anxious. She then turned back to the window and tapped a bamboo chime hanging there. A small bell within jingled, then ended in a soft, soothing note, as if from a flute. Every little thing the Pandaren did was tantalizing.

Tempest felt the back of her neck, and the neatly clipped auburn bob she wore. Faint silvery green makeup lightened her eyes. She appeared uncomfortable, not wanting to really look at Liadrin nor Sorn again.

"I've given you a lot of bad memories. I was very unkind to Sunthraze when I first met him. And, honestly, I'm horrified at how awkward I was, or that I was even in that kind of… relationship, if you could call it that. And with Pyorin of all people."

"Pyorin is a wonderful, honorable man. And he's such a good husband to Daphne."

"I know. Of course he is." Tempest dropped hands at her sides, frustrated. "But he was, well, a complete dillhole back then. You heard him."

"Well, you were the one dating him." Sorn arched an eyebrow.

"Right, that's what I'm trying to say! Look, I'd like to start over." Tempest paced the other way, "Sitting at his feet, humming like a weirdo and sashaying about, threatening him every five minutes—is that really me? If… if you're going to give him these memories once you're finished recording everything, then, please—let me share just one with you that isn't like the others. There are some things that, over time, I let myself forget. But this one, I was afraid to ever let go. And I was nervous about sharing it, in front of anyone else." She faced them, confident, "Okay?"

"Is this you facing up to what you've done?"

Tempest held onto the back of the one chair, "You could say, it's the start of it. One good memory to balance against…what happened in the end."

"Please sit, child. Relax."

Tempest had a careful seat on the purple couch, then exhaled.

Sorn drew a sparkling blue line through the air beneath his earlier conjuring. He lifted his crystal stylus again, ready.

"Do the others really need this memory too?"

"To ensure that the memory deterioration spell ceases to replicate, we need to completely seal it off, wherever it reaches. Not unlike… snipping the ends off of a frayed ribbon." Sorn flipped up his monocle. "Every strand must be snipped clean away."

Tempest rubbed hands up and down her legs. "Hokay. Here we go. So… this one day, I was incredibly stupid. I… I put on my best dress and wore it to Sunthraze's ranch, totally uninvited. And that was after threatening Britecleff that he owed me one and he had better let me take a note to Sunthraze or else."

"Uh oh…" Sorn teased, began sweeping loops of blue magic through the air.

"Go on," Liadrin looked uncomfortable. "Sorn, trust me. Tempest's stories, however prettily they may begin, usually end in some kind of train wreck."

Silvermoon, 103 days before the sundering…

Sunthraze saw the tall woman in a white dress covered with large red flowers and elegant hat, and waving at him, strutting alongside the derelict fence, but he still didn't believe it. Tempest judged the distance to the gate by the road, shook her head, and then kicked one leg and hopped the fence. A flare of red-blotted skirt followed. She gripped it with white lace gloves and swung her other long leg over just as fast. A wide-eyed Sunthraze then watched her march carefully around a mud puddle in strappy, stiletto sandals. Then, about when he could see the whites of her eyes, the overly-smiling woman slowed and smirked.

"Good…" she cleared her throat, trying not to laugh, "morning."

Sunthraze felt how he gripped his shovel with both hands. He relaxed them so that the knuckles didn't seem so white.

Then, Tempest tried again, "…I have a reason to be here today."

"As opposed to… ? Sounds like something a stalker with a guilty conscience would say."

Tempest looked very embarrassed, ready to turn back. Sunthraze remembered how they left things last time, his smart mouth almost sending her out of the room. He quickly and profusely apologized.

"…You look beautiful." He ended up saying.

She took a letter out of her bag, ignoring his easy compliment, "You know what your problem is, Lord Sunthraze? You're negative." She then offered him the envelope.

"I'm covered in filth up to my elbows mucking out Hawkstrider stalls. Day in, day out. Of course I'm negative." Then he muttered, "Even when I'm trying to be nice." Then, Sunthraze furrowed his brow, afraid to take it.

Tempest waggled the envelope at him again, "A pretty girl takes hours getting ready, finding the right little scarf… for around her neck. The right bright red lipstick and little… earrings. Pearls? No, too innocent. Gold studs?" She had a breath. It was clear now, how nervous she was, "But I wore black. Where you would look right into my eyes, see my face… try to guess what I'm really feeling."

"And how are you feeling, today?"

Tempest had to look away, for a moment. Her voice returned, with that gaze, so much more vulnerable, "They're… little naughty, black roses."

Sunthraze could smell her perfume. He leaned in. She came closer. "All this is for you." Tempest turned sideways, in a sunbeam. Sunthraze finally smiled back. She teased him with the envelope again, "And this. Don't you want to see what it might maybe be? Please? It's my job to make sure you get it safely this time. And… read it."

"So. My letter to you-know-who royally sucked and you all are arresting me again. This time, there are formal papers to prove it.…"

Tempest strutted forward another step and stood closer to Sunthraze. He was about tall enough to be chest-height. Sunthraze blushed, took the envelope, then wandered off a pace or two instead.

"You know," he started laughing, halfway through opening the letter, "Some women are coy. Do you know what coy is?"

"Nope."

"You know, I don't know why I even bothered to ask you that…" he ripped the envelope and Tempest jumped. Sunthraze looked up at her, confused.

"Oh, my. The way you open an envelope…"

Sunthraze cleared his throat with embarrassment and went on, "Coy women tease you, in a far more subtle fashion than you're doing now… or they flatter you. They let you know that, if you have the courage to ask, they might say yes… to a date. Or, to a… witch's brew by the bonfire in your case."

Tempest lingered there, watched him read it. "So, you are taking me out, then? I can't wait to put my witch's hex on you."

"Poor country bumpkin, remember? Where would we even go." Sunthraze was deadpan as he read the letter. Tempest distracted him momentarily, by coming over and actually petting his long red hair. "…Okay, that's just creepy."

"But you're so happy about me being creepy, though."

"You know what this is about already, don't you?" Then, Sunthraze came to the end of the letter. "Oh, I get it. That… blonde, decorated gorilla and his bedheaded crony, they're the ones who want a date. And they sent you to tempt me into it."

Then, Sunthraze leaned into her touch, "…That does feels nice."

"I confess that I was excited about the assignment. I don't… seduce just anybody, you know… for work? Sometimes, Farstriders on assignment do need to use deception. But I have to be into it first. Those who are really, really good at sekuu are the real creepers. They're happy to jump on anyone they have to interrogate. Not me."

Sunthraze smiled as she stroked more deeply into his hair, "…You have a weird life."

"I'm also under orders to bring you in this time, no matter what. Sunthraze, if we go right now, we'll have a few hours to kill, too. It's not till this evening. So… why not? You can't possibly object to that."

"Uh…?"

"Good. Want to escort me back?" her voice was incredibly gentle then, sylvan. The most normal this woman had sounded after several encounters. Then, she pulled on his hair a little and made him look up.

"Do you like me?" and when Sunthraze hesitated to say, "Alright. Answer that question first. I'll let you buy yourself some time before you foolishly decide to defy Britecleff again."

Sunthraze went to sit on a haystack. "I've uh… never met a girl like you before."

Tempest noticed a stool nearby, sat on it and crossed her legs.

"Your shoes are getting all mucky." Sunthraze pouted when she did.

"Oh… oh well. Nothing else I have goes with this dress, though. Anyway, I wanted you to see me in them."

Sunthraze became even more uncomfortable, "Yeah. You're kind of… well, tell me about yourself. What do you like to do, when you're not… Farstrider-ing?"

Tempest exhaled, thinking. She crossed arms beneath her breasts and leaned over. "I almost never have time for anything else. Well… I like to jog. I love to run."

"That's… normal." Sunthraze smiled with relief. He began to stare at her. "You run… a lot?"

"In the army, you have to, silly. Wait, what did you expect me to say?"

"Something like… you had your exes' heads mounted over the fireplace at home. Or that they were stuffed in various frightened poses, cowering before your might."

Tempest shook her head. "Me mighty? Am I mighty?"

"…Yeah."

"Sunthraze, you're not really afraid of me, are you?"

"Eh…uh… eyeaaaah?" he winced at the end.

"You sure know the way to a girl's heart." Tempest sat up straight and folded hands over her knee. "Well, I have a confession, too. Honestly, Sunthraze, I don't know why I'm so intense with you. It's…my instinct or something. I just want to be around you, to hear your voice. Eventhough I don't know you." Her gaze wandered, "I was really glad when Britecleff told me I was going to be the one to bring the letter to your place. To you. Anyway… I know that's kind of awful."

"Yeah?"

"You have a few more words you're capable of saying to me?"

Sunthraze looked back over to the barn, then the farmhouse.

"Is mommy watching us?"

Sunthraze gave her an annoyed look. Then, his mood lightened a bit. "You know, I play the guitar, too."

"How did you already know I play the guitar? Oh…" then she laughed, "That time in the hallway. I always make up songs when I'm bored. I was just practicing a chord or two. It's the only chance I get."

"You can't keep a guitar at the barracks?"

"Eh… people always want to borrow it. Sometimes you never get it back. And that's when you have the privilege to even have one. I keep losing my… priveleges." Tempest looked elsewhere for a moment.

Sunthraze's palms felt sweaty, but he was going to do it, dammit, "Why don't I go get my guitar? You could play it. I have two, actually."

"Do you mean right now? Or…"

"Yeah, now. Immediately." Then, he calmed himself, "Well, I can't give you one to borrow for later. But… you know, we could play for a few minutes while you're here." He had a new breath, "So…yeah?"

Tempest folded hands in front of her skirt. "Oh, I'd love it. I'd really, really love it."

"This is so cool—I never meet girls who also play the guitar. I'll be right back! Don't go anywhere."

Tempest wandered a little circle while she waited. A hungry Hawkstrider cocked its head at her.

"Hey now," she shooed it playfully, "Get your own handsome, handy farmboy."

Sunthraze came back, one guitar slung across his chest with a strap. The other he held by the neck, letting the body rest over his shoulder.

They went into the barn, where it was dry. Sunthraze helped Tempest to sit comfortably on a few bales of hay. The hay smelled sweet. Then, he walked back the way they'd come and hauled the big doors open. Sunlight flooded in.

"It can be beautiful, in a barn." Tempest grinned, "I really didn't know. And everything is so… golden."

Sunthraze sat across from her, "You have my guitar. This one was my dad's."

"…Oh. I'm… sorry."

"It was a long time ago." Sunthraze put his fingers on the fingerboard, strummed a chord or two. "Don't be sorry, just play it. My treat."

Tempest smiled and pulled the guitar into her lap. She spread her legs and the long white and red skirt spread out beneath the guitar, a silken cascade.

Sunthraze tried not to notice that too much. Not that he could see anything. She was just so lovely, doing that.

"She's playing my guitar…" Sunthraze sang, improvised a tune.

"Oh, it's turning you on, is it?"

Sunthraze couldn't stop smiling after she said that. He played a friendly ballad about the Sunwell, something he hoped she'd know. Tempest played along, took a different chord that complimented his. They sang and played other songs. They harmonized, they raced each other. They must have played together for an hour, more. Tempest's playing was sweet, very kind. It was not how she normally behaved at all, and Sunthraze kept feeling that joke at the edge of this teeth, time and again. But he wasn't going to do that to her. Being at perfect peace with Tempest was so much nicer. Sunthraze eventually opened up, strumming as boldly as he liked, letting his voice get soulful. He kept eye contact with her, while he sang. Tempest stopped and listened a few times, because she enjoyed hearing him so much.

"You ever make up a song?" she asked him, unable to hide the delight in her smile, her hand lightly stroking up and down the neck of the guitar. If it had been a cat, she would have been petting it. And it would have been purring. Sunthraze warned Tempest about that, stealing his guitar's affections. She smiled and shook her head at him.

He shrugged, then answered her question, "Well… I mean, you mess around. But I get more joy out of being methodical, memorizing what's already out there, getting the technique perfect. The songs I know and like. I'm not sure if I'd be… brave enough to make up something of my own." He chuckled, "I mean, what if it sounds stupid, you'd never know."

"You play it for someone else, first."

Sunthraze looked at the straw on the floor. "I couldn't do that. Too much pressure."

Tempest began to play again. It was familiar, but then Sunthraze tried to place his fingers and follow hers. No, he couldn't match it. So, it was new. He hugged his father's guitar, listened.

I know it isn't perfect,
But somehow it just feels worth it,
And I like to see him all the tiiime.

He smiles at me so sweetly,
Even when he's being mean and,
Still I don't mind to pass the tiiime,

I met him accidentally on purpose,
But somehow it just feels worth it,
Maybe if we give it some more tiiime?

I don't know where this is leading,
But I'm so glad for our first meeting,
I hope we'll be singing all the tiiime.

She played a few more verses, no singing. Sunthraze started to turn red.

"Go on. Your turn." She grinned at him like a cat. "Just fit in the word 'time' at the end."

"Uh…"

Tempest sang some more before he could. It got bolder. She sped it up, slapped the guitar at intervals.

I know he thinks he's hot stuff!
And I can see that he is so tough,
I mean, I check him out all the tiiime!

He's cute when his eyes are pleading,
'Please somebody, need me.'
Baby, I'd love to need you all the tiiime!

Maybe he's a good dancer?
Liar or a hero, I can't ask him-
Cause he won't take me out, anytiiime.

He's kind of rebel punk, but
Soon I'll just jack his junk and,
Then I'll be happy all the tiiiiime!

"Okay, Tempest, that was awful."

"Some women have pretty white lace on their panties… you're giving me cobwebs, Sunthraze."

"Okay… okay, that was worse." But he was laughing too hard at her.

She played for a while more, then, impatient, "It's your turn! Come on!"

Sunthraze was really nervous about it. He had a few stutter-starts. Then came what he really wanted to tell her,

I think she's bat-shit crazy,
She insists she's not a lady,
But yet I just want to wine and dine her…

Damn, I guess I'm bad at improvising,
I forgot about rhyme and timing,
But it's because of how much I liiike her,

When she blushes,
I get distracted!
My imagination,
Over-active!

I think I like her all the tiiiiime!

You know, she wants to rush me,
And it gets harder, and harder, and harder…
To fiiiight her!

"Just when it was getting good."

I wonder if she'll still be so naughty,
Once I finally have her body,
And have my chance to deliiiight her,
Like she delights me all the time.

Tempest raised her guitar into her lap again, harmonized with him. She smiled for him and also focused on enjoying the song itself. The song raised and spread out all around the barn. It was simply beautiful. It was so to them, and to Sunthraze's mother who was certainly, secretly listening out. To the neighbors who would tease Sunthraze about it later.

At last, they sang together, Sunthraze taking the first line, Tempest filling in after.

I know she thinks she's hot stuff…

I hope he knows I like it rough…

But I intend to take my time.

We don't have to go on so many dates first,

I wasn't raised like that. I bow and tip my hat…

In the end you're wasting my tiiime!

What do you do when she's not afraid to love you?

And he won't just take advantage?

Together, Are we running out of tiiiime?

Why won't she do her own part? Relax and let me make a start…

Boy, you keep running through my miiiiind…

Sweetheart, as long as we're together…

But it already feels like forever.

I love that this will be our first time…

Sunthraze, I love that this is our first time.

Tempest, I can't wait for our first tiiiime.

Tempest finished, unable to look at him for a while. Sunthraze couldn't meet her eyes, either. He kept the song going, then played them out.

Tempest set Sunthraze's guitar down carefully. She climbed over and sat next to him, while he played a few light notes. Some other pretty song he knew. Tempest lay her head on his shoulder.

"Are you done being a spy, with me? That… sekuu stuff? I'd like you to cut it out."

"…Okay."

"Was that a real song, just now?"

She cuddled into him while he played, suddenly far too shy to answer.

"… Good."

"And you didn't even have to beat up anyone. Not like before."

"I knew I could win the girl, if I just gave it some time." He looked over while he played, waited for Tempest to kiss him.

She did.

Sunthraze put up the guitars after that, and then he walked Tempest to the gate by the road.

"Sunthraze, it's not going to be that easy, you know… If you're looking for more. I barely know you and we've not even been out yet."

"So you admit it. Sex is one thing, love is another. Love is the trickier part."

She leaned on the other side of the fence. "Well, I guess we agree on that."

"Maybe we always did."

She waved goodbye and walked away, "So… Do you love me, then?"

Sunthraze hopped over the fence and followed Tempest down the road.

"And are you coming with me today, after all? Loverboy?"

"I can't. But I can walk you all the way back to your Hawkstrider. That's a few more feet."

They both looked at her bright blue Farstrider mount in its armor, a Hawkstrider picking at pebbles in the yellow dust road.

Sunthraze took her hand.

"What does your tattoo say?"

"I really don't want you to know what it says, Tempest. I've been warned about it since you first saw it, so I kind of regret it now."

She rolled her eyes, then offered, "We could have dinner at your house?"

"I couldn't guarantee that my mother wouldn't be in the house. Since it's really her house."

"I don't understand about this… silly manly foolish pride thing, wanting to spend a lot of money on me. I really, really don't care about any of that."

"Not a lot of money, just some. And it isn't… foolish. It means something to me, right? And yes, I do have my pride. I'm… proud of my pride."

"I don't know. A lot of ancient heroes suffered and died by the hands of the gods because of hubris-"

"No pressure." Sunthraze finished that sentence for Tempest, eyed her. Then, "Why does it always, always feel like I'm the girl and you're the guy, whenever we get together?"

"I'll do my best, Sunnyfaze…" Tempest untied her Hawkstrider mount, "I can see something's up with you, that you're trying to work out. I can respect that. And maybe I even… hurt you. Before."

"It's not that. Trust me, I… It isn't that. I know I was locked up and you were just doing your job. That sekuu stuff."

"Well, I don't think anyone can wait forever. I can't promise you anything if you won't even… well, I hope that you do try."

"That's fair."

She mounted up, a flare of white and red dress that was far more cheerful than their conversation. When Tempest got the reins in her hands properly, she frowned, "You already sound like you're giving up."

Sunthraze looked up the road, and then back down the road. No nosey neighbors. Not yet. He unhitched his overalls, curled the top down some, so she could fully read the tattoo on his bare stomach.

He said, "I promise I will sort things out. But this is something to tide you over, since you keep asking me about it."

BON BOUMA BAROVA

His tattoo read.

"Is that… Trollish?"

"It's a stupid tattoo, but it's not like I can take it back now. So… you satisfied? You're going to hang in there for me and also stop asking me about it?"

"I kill Trolls, I don't read their language."

Sunthraze blew out an embarrassed breath. All that for nothing.

"No reason to clothe yourself again, though—" she beamed and mounted up.

"Alright, go. And don't worry about it. Just have a good day. Have fun playing with the… sailors, Tempest."

"Maybe I will." She teased him, "I may have to, after seeing all that. You know, if the Farstrider thing doesn't work out, you could always strip for a living."

Tempest walked her Hawkstrider around him, in a circle, sizing him up like she was a naughty stray and she was the one herding Hawkstriders. She mimed lassoing him up to drag him back off with her to the flock. Then Tempest blew him a kiss instead, and rode off.

Sunthraze walked over to the fence, leaned on it while he watched her go. Other than feeling somehow… used, for taking his clothes off partway so she could stare-and he was starting to notice Tempest was very good at making him feel that way whether she was being a spy or not-he was happy.

Used, and happy. What an intense, wonderful warm woman. Fire incarnate.

"Maybe I loved her just in time…"