I was hoping for more reviews, but oh well! Here's the second half of the chapter!

Rogue

Book Five, Part Two

The first time I had hearthed to Stormwind, my senses had been distorted beyond realization, and the pain had been insurmountable to begin with. My journey through the port the second time around was definitely not more comfortable.

It still twisted my insides and skewed them a thousand different directions. I was still in pain as the magic acted, and I'm convinced that my severe grief had maximized the feeling to the limit.

At the same time, I didn't want to arrive at Stormwind. I couldn't fathom reentering my body, feeling the effects of witnessing Dennis' final moments and bearing the arising guilt of surviving.

I wasn't sure if the hearth had dropped me to the floor or if my body had simply collapsed, but my knees collided into a hard stone surface below me as I continued to cry in despair. My hands braced my weight as they hit the floor, my important papers fluttering and halting an arm's reach away. Other people were now noticing my appearance; I heard definite gasps and questions as I continued to sob uncontrollably.

Dennis was gone. Gone forever. I'd never be able to talk to him again, fight along side him again. My best friend, and it was all lost…

"No!" I howled defiantly, fist banging into the stone floor. My palm throbbed in response, but I didn't care. Why. Why was I allowed to survive?

"Child," someone called above me. I sensed many auras through my grief, the purity of them confusing my logistics. I opened my eyes for a slight moment, taking in my surroundings.

The Cathedral. An attack of sobs wracked my shoulders as I cinched my eyes shut and rested my forehead on the cool ground. I didn't want to be here. Take me back.

"Who is she?"

"Did she hearth?"

"What's this?" Someone picked up my package, the crinkle of parchment drowned out with my babbles. I was uncontrollable, and I had no desire to attempt to speak logistically. An attempt was made by me to manage my sobs, and it only made my internal pain erupt in moans. "Papers of the Scourge," someone mused. "But how…how did this girl get a hold of these?"

Someone was now bent down to my level, his hand on my shoulder. I refused to turn toward him, refused to acknowledge anything but my inner turmoil. After a few seconds of remaining curled up with a handful of paladins hovering above me, I grew tempted to bat them away. Instead of such an offensive gesture, my shaky hand fumbled inside my shirt until they wrapped around what I had been searching for. My sobs had died down to whimpering, but my vision was so blurry it hurt to open my eyes. Without glancing I knew I succeeded in acquiring the right object—the insignia of SI:7 was in the shape of a four-pointed star, a small '7' gracing the center. I slammed the pin onto the floor carelessly, then sliding it out for anyone to take. My arm retracted back to caress my stomach, which was now heaving so violently in my attempt to stop crying that I was beginning to feel physically ill.

"SI:7…"

"A rogue?"

I had started to rock back and forth, an attempt at taking my thoughts off of anything at the moment. Let me be, let me gather myself…

"Somebody get a representative from SI:7," one of them commanded, taking control. "Tell them a female has appeared in the Cathedral claiming to be a rogue."

Claiming to be? I wanted to roar. I've been through hell and back trying to save their own, and they want to question my position? After what I had just experienced, I had to put up with paladin protocol?

"Get her somewhere more remote."

A few hands reached out to lift me, but I pulled away from any contact. "Don't touch me!" I growled, choking on my growl. "Leave me alone, just leave me alone…"

"She's been traumatized."

"We still must move her. The children…"

I felt my body being lifted off the cold floor, but I felt detached—I had been emotionally unstable, attempting to keep myself steady, but now something else was pushing me further away from my body.

It was growing far too familiar, and this time, I had no desire or need to slip into Arthas' mind. It took my entire effort to remain in control, and attempting to stop the process before I crossed over was brutally tiring. The effort did no good, however; blue colors replaced darkness, and cold malice replaced insurmountable sorrow.

I didn't want to pay attention to my new environment, especially since the emotions coursing through Arthas would completely sync with my suffering. He was consumed with death and demolition, motivated to kill anything standing in his way.

The Plaguelands will belong to the Scourge.

Now that those Paladins are wiped off the land, my legion will reign. I chuckled, knuckles cracking as my fist clenched the blade at my side. It glowed an icy blue, the silver sparkling with the movement. Power emanated from the sword, reaching up through my cold fingers and seeping into my muscles and bones. It was the sword that bled ice through my system, compelled me towards the destruction of life, of anything that would stand in my way.

Through this image I still saw my own body's surroundings. It was incredibly blurry, as if Arthas' mind was an opaque screen blocking my own consciousness, but I could see a handful of paladins carrying me, see the large dome of a ceiling as I was dragged into a more secluded room.

This method of seeing the other side was far more difficult on my own self. I could feel my mental capacity stretch, straining my body and thoughts to the point of pain. It was highly uncomfortable—not because I could see both sides, witness Arthas' surroundings while viewing my own—but because that feeling within the King's bones, that cold and sinister sensation I could normally leave behind once I recovered, was now my own feeling.

As the blue images of the Scourge disappeared, I became even more aware of my own self. It felt as if I was returning to my own body. Fearfully I clenched my eyes shut, refusing to acknowledge any part of my senses. I was too afraid my emotions would thrive off my senses, still adjusted to Arthas' disturbing feelings of cold, heartless vindication.

The room felt like it was spinning. I attempted to control my breathing, for it was moving so rapidly I was concerned about slipping into the Undead realm again. Restraining myself was too painful, though. Every inhale helped spread an icy chill that began to cool the core of my body.

The frigid ice swept my body, causing me to grind my teeth. I had to remain in control. I couldn't allow myself to slip away. But I was furious with the Scourge, with that monster that considered himself a king. I wanted to personally rip every Undead thing to pieces, hear them howl in indescribable pain. Because of these feelings, it was difficult to fight the winter freezing over my usual warmth. It did no good to battle the hatred now growing within me: I had always hated the Scourge, and now they had pushed me to my breaking point, tested my human feelings to the highest degree.

My hands were still shaking, fingernails chattering against the marble floor. Now I wasn't sure whether the quivering was a result of anguish or rage: was I mourning a loss or damning the Scourge?

"An…Officer Jared…is here, sir."

"Bring him in."

"He's…brought a few friends…"

"Friends of SI:7 are our friends as well. They are all welcome."

No, don't let anyone in. Don't let Jared see me like this. Hesitantly, I searched the auras surrounding me, reaching out through the room. A few familiar auras, officers that were involved with my progress.

I curled up into a pitiful ball, pulling my knees into my chest and holding on tightly. My muscles strained with unnecessary effort. I wasn't only holding onto myself; I was trying my best to both keep my sanity rooted and distance the others from me.

Footsteps padded near me as Officer Jared arrived within the room. It was silent for a few moments, the shudders in my breath more obvious when everyone was silent, until Jared stooped over. His steady hand grasped my shoulder, causing me to wince and draw back.

"She's one of ours," Jared announced quietly, as if he'd disturb me further. "She was on a routine assignment. Grace." He attempted to rouse me, fingers tightening slightly over my shoulder. I gave no hint I acknowledged my own name. "Non-responsive. Brae, try to get some development from her."

I'm not unconscious, I wanted to seethe. And I'm not mental. I just want you to leave me alone.

Brae's two fingers went to my wrist to first check my pulse. It was coursing through my veins, alright—he didn't have to be a doctor to realize I wasn't stable. "Relax, Grace," he urged. "You're going to hurt yourself."

Relax? When I was so close to exploding with fury and rage?

I was afraid of what would happen if I let go. Would hatred consume me? Would I do something I would regret?

As Brae checked my vitals, checked for wounds that would cause blood loss, checked my head for any fatalities, and more or less determined what I had already known, Officer Jared murmured with the paladins I had startled with my arrival.

With the strength I had I slipped myself away from consciousness. I had to calm myself down so I could deliver the news. It was so hard, battling the cold that crept through my joints as well as the feeling of grief. No thinking about what had happened, no…

I didn't even realize Brae was addressing me until his voice broke the normal humming of conversation Jared was having. The officer's conversation halted, causing my senses to croon out at the change.

"She's not going to stir, Jared. Something happened to her during her leave. I think it's best that Zen…"

"And I'm sure Zen will not take kindly to seeing her like this."

"She's not responding at all, sir," Brae insisted. "Zen's the only one that might be able to rouse her. And I can guarantee Zen would much rather see Grace as she is now than not at all. You saw how he reacted at the news."

Zen…

My heart was hurting. Was that possible? Guilt and shame washed over me, and it was like water poured over ice, allowing my emotions to break through. A burning pain, like reaching the warmth of a fire once the body had trampled through freezing conditions. What would Zen think, after seeing me floored with emotions? All of his work and effort in developing such a lethal weapon…

I couldn't let my feelings get the best of me. I didn't want him to see me like that. I tried to protest, my voice merely groaning as I hid my face in the cold of the marble floor.

Zen had arrived. His warm aura blanketed my body, causing me to tense a bit in discomfort. After attempting to block out so much remorse and sorrow, the last thing I needed was soothing warmth. Don't comfort me.

My eyes were shut again, and the rest of my body was getting sore from effort. Perhaps I should have opened my mouth to speak, to tell everyone what was so dire, but I couldn't gather myself.

I felt the quick pace in Zen's strut as he arrived near me. I tried not to follow his aura as he kneeled beside me, or notice that it was rigid with worry. Not helping.

"Grace," he whispered, so calm it scared me. A warm hand went to my shoulder, heat spreading throughout my body. I groaned in anxiety, my control starting to fade with a single touch. It always happened with Zen.

He didn't bother being distant and diagnostic like the others had been. His arms went to my shoulders, and without a notion of effort he pulled me into his chest, arms wrapping securely around my small body. With an uncontrollable shudder I cursed Zen's rogue senses. My own aura was weakening at the touch, and if I could feel that, then surely the other rogue would as well.

"Let it go," he whispered softly. I was cradled in his lap, one of his arms behind my back as the other warmed my neck. I grew confused, my eyes nearly cracking open at the strange request. He couldn't possibly have any idea what was happening within me. "It's okay, I'm here. Let it go."

Every aspect of Zen was so warm, so welcoming and comforting. It demolished any barrier I had been trying to create, any attempt at keeping my emotions balanced. One hushed whisper from Zen, and I melted.

I hiccupped at first, tears again accumulating beneath my eyelashes. With a small shudder I broke down, silently sobbing as Zen merely held me in his arms.

With whatever strength I still had left, my hands gripped the collar of Zen's jacket. My sobbing wasn't as intense as previously, but the grief and guilt was still there, reminding me of my predicament.

It was a long while before I was too tired to cry. Zen pulled away, his own green orbs misted over as I gathered enough determination to open my eyes. He was real, at least, not some hallucination I had mustered during my stress. Finally, his jaw tightened in determination. "What happened, Grace?"

They had to be informed. What if Arthas was planning a huge siege at this very moment on the Plaguelands? What if I was too late?

"There were only three survivors when I arrived. While we were trying to escape the nighttime, one of the paladins was bitten, and Dennis had to purge him…end his suffering."

"Dennis?" Zen repeated. The group of paladins were now muttering again, shaking their heads. I nodded in assertion, keeping a steady gaze on the floor because seeing the reactions around me wasn't helping. I inhaled sharply.

"It was clear. Everything looked fine, until…" I hesitated, wondering if I could reveal my hidden talent amongst the paladins. Would they rule me as purely demonic if they found out I could envision the Undead's moves? "I saw them coming towards us. It was enough time for Dennis to hand me…that information," I nodded towards the parchment one of the paladin's was holding. As if subconsciously, the man's clutch tightened over the papers. "Dennis and Edgar stayed behind, to exterminate as many as possible. But an entire army arrived…they had no chance," I uttered, nearly squeaking as I recounted the last moments I witnessed. "Dennis insisted I return." Holding my breath, I looked around, searching for anyone that may believe me. "The Scourge has started an assault on the Plaguelands. If we don't act now, it'll be overrun."

At first the near silence took over the room, until finally a few paladins shuffled in their position all at once. "We are very aware of the state of the Eastern and Western Plaguelands," mentioned one of the Light's soldiers. I recognized his voice from earlier-this man had directed the others when I arrived. It was a bit surprising that his features hadn't struck me before, even while I was concentrating on other things—across his right eye was a thick eye patch. His black, coarse hair emphasized his haggard look as he gazed strictly upon me with his good eye. "The Argent Dawn is completely capable of monitoring the situation."

Bewildered, I shuffled my eyes through the others. "Your own soldiers wanted me to warn you, they witnessed it themselves before they died! The attack is coming!" I insisted. I was growing more furious by the moment—after what I had experienced, they dared to consider my claims? "We have to act now!"

"She's traumatized," one of the other men insisted. "Officer Jared, I suggest you take your rogue and have her get some rest."

I felt the muscles in my neck tense under pressure as I staggered onto my feet. "I demand to speak to the Archbishop."

"He's unavailable at the moment," the paladin with the eye patch said with a clip. "I'm Lord Grayson Shadowbreaker. I serve beneath our Archbishop. Anything you feel compelled to say to him you should relay to me."

Withholding a growl, I then spun around to my own people, Zen and Jared. "Where's Major General Rillhelm?" I demanded quickly. "He'll listen. Somebody has to-"

"He's busy as well," muttered Jared. Mouth agape, my arms rose in confusion.

"What's going on?" I demanded.

"While you were gone, the king returned, alive and well," answered Zen. "There's a huge celebration in the streets. All of Stormwind's leaders have gathered, and-"

"Arthas is ready to pounce, and Stormwind is celebrating?" I asked, now unable to direct my frustration at any specific person. "Our cities are a mana tap away from Scourge invasion, and nobody here is going to admit it?"

"The Scourge is being watched with a scrutinizing eye," Lord Grayson announced thickly, his chin rising as my antagonism heightened.

"My apologies, but one eye isn't enough for the Scourge," I seethed, not very careful about indirectly offending a Lord of the Light. "How many more must die before we stop watching and start acting?" I demanded.

"Grace," droned Zen, an obvious warning from behind me.

"A thousand?" I continued angrily anyway. "Ten thousand more of our own?"

"Watch your tongue, rogue," spat Lord Grayson like my affiliation was a disease. "You are in the Cathedral of Light. It would serve you well to show a little more respect for your superiors."

I never did get very good at that sort of thing. After swallowing a growl of frustration, I snatched my SI:7 badge off the floor and continued to hook it onto my jacket. "It's a terrible day for the Alliance when the soldiers of the Light deliberately ignore a foreboding enemy's advances," I seethed, then turned and pushed through the baffled group of people.

"What an insolent brat!" growled Lord Grayson, who took a step towards my retreating form. Before he could continue to speak, Zen slipped by him as well, his eyes warning the man to back down.

"Where are you going, Grace?" asked Officer Jared, who peered past the huddle among me.

"There's one person within these walls now who can't ignore a threat on his people. He'll listen."

I went to turn towards the long hallway when a laugh halted my attempt. "You think you can simply demand an audience with the King?" roared Grayson.

I refused to listen to anymore ignorance. Turning on my heels, I continued to stalk out of the Cathedral on a mission. The sunlight nearly blinded me, but that wasn't my worst worry as I had to weave in and out of hordes of people waiting for a glimpse of their king.

Zen caught up, his figure visible in the corner of my eye. "Grace, are you sure…?"

"Dennis left me one task before he died," I explained. "To warn our people. I can't ignore certain doom. I can't let Dennis die in vain," I announced as I slipped by a very large woman carrying bushels of flowers.

We turned, now adjacent to the canals as I managed a more brisk pace towards the Stormwind Keep. Anything to keep me on task, to keep my mind from getting in touch with my heart's emotions.

Fireworks were being set off one after another, again reminisce of terrified screams until they erupted into large booms that shook my eardrums. The door of the keep was visible now, open but heavily guarded by a handful of soldiers that kept the audience at bay. I growled; there was no way I'd get past all of the people so eager to see the king, and then manage to convince the guards to let me through.

I was a rogue. I was accustomed to the difficult, more dangerous way. With a slight nod I turned to Zen. "How well do you know the layout of the Keep?" I asked obtusely.

Zen wasn't taken for a moment. His eyes minimized into slits. "Grace, you can't just slip into the King's keep. That's a deliberate attempt at breaching the King's defense."

"I thought you lived life on the edge," I grumbled, still scanning the building for any fault in the layout.

Sighing in defeat, Zen grabbed my hand and pulled me through the audience, away from the entrance. As we continued to struggle through the bustle of so many people, a slight smog took over the air.

"The Dwarven District?" I asked, nearly losing my footing as Zen tore to the right.

"Don't bite the hands that feeds," growled the other rogue, who still had a firm grip on my hand even though the crowds had thinned out to nearly nothing. A few dwarves roamed their own streets, not looking very amused at the loud noises coming from over the walls. One with a blackened beard—from soot or otherwise—clutched a jar of rum as he staggered down the pathway muttering things about 'part-time royalty.'

Zen led me around a massive crane-looking contraption, to where a mass of crates were sitting. He hopped gracefully up a stack of them like a stairway, then motioning to me as his foot caught the highest box. "Hurry," he insisted, arms out, "if these dwarves see anything out of the ordinary…"

Nodding, I followed Zen up the crates, wincing slightly as one of them swayed beneath my weight. In no time I was beside the male rogue, and he didn't hesitate in hoisting me up with his arms so I could pull myself up onto the dwarven house.

Luckily, the dwarves were small. Small stature meant small buildings. On my stomach I helped Zen climb up onto the roof, and we both sat there momentarily, catching our breath. Zen was so confident as he gazed forward, so focused. I waited for him to continue.

Finally, he nodded towards the stone wall ahead of us. "That's the wall of the keep. Over that wall is the courtyard, which opens directly into the rest of the Stormwind Keep. I'm not sure how guarded this area's going to be, since most of them seem to be focused on keeping the townsfolk at bay."

"Two rogues? I think we can handle it," I commented lightly. Zen didn't bother hiding a roll of his eyes.

"Hurry."

Grumbling to myself, I balanced myself on my legs, careful not to fall forward on the angular roof. For a moment I calibrated the jump, then sprung forward over the gap with outstretched hands.

I felt my ribs contact the top of stone wall, my knees scraping as I hugged on to the wall's top with shaky arms. With a strength I hadn't needed to use in a while I pulled my entire body up onto the small plateau.

Needless to say, Zen's leap was much more graceful and thought out. With his jump he managed to arrive on the thin wall on his own two feet. To keep himself from falling forward off the wall he crouched down, fingers gripping the stone behind him.

"Show off."

Smirking, Zen continued to monitor the courtyard now below us. I closed my eyes, trying to sense how many auras were loafing about.

"There's a few guards," I announced in a whisper.

Zen nodded, already knowing the information. "The courtyard should be clear for now." Without a look my way, he dropped down, landing within the grass of the court without so much as a ruffle of a noise. Again I followed, not bothering to get angry at Zen's unusual distance. The other rogue was now in assassin mode—there was no informality at this point, no friendly looks or smiles.

With little time to waste I was beside Zen, and we were sneaking through the courtyard. Trees were acceptable cover as we neared the opening that would apparently lead to the King. A guard was pacing back and forth at the doorway, causing Zen to remain completely still.

I was beginning to worry—the guard was now walking through the doorway, into the courtyard, and Zen was drawing one of his throwing weapons. I was fairly certain that killing our own Royal Guard was a bigger transgression than breaking in, so the fact that Zen was considering such a solution had me startled.

Then Zen's weapon was whirling toward a tree a dozen feet or so away. It hit something solid with a thunk, which was followed by a loud squeak as a squirrel tumbled out of the safety of the tree.

Sighing, I couldn't help acknowledge that despite the unorthodox approach, it was still skilled and had caught the guard's attention. The soldier paced towards the tree, curious, as Zen and I managed to slip behind him and arrive within the walls of the keep.

It wasn't difficult to then continue to where the king would be—only one more guard was met along the way, but Zen and I were easily out of his detection.

There was a rumble of conversation sifting form what Zen said was the War Room-a break of laughter hinted that perhaps the conversation had little to do with war.

"No, my friends, I can assure you," a deep voice announced, "as amusing as my plight was at times, there were also many misfortunes..."

Zen looked at me expectedly, his bright green eyes daring me to move. With a huff of breath I wet my lips and stepped into the room.

At the arrival of somebody who obviously hadn't been invited, everyone turned startled glances at me. A few guards, previously minding that the walls stayed in place, now took animated steps towards me, ready to draw their swords.

Before then, I had never seen the king up close. I new roughly what he looked like—long black hair, broad shoulders—but for some reason, no one had mentioned how definite his features were. The time away had obviously affected his features—dark circles shadowed his eyes, permanent creases in his face made him look years older than he actually was.

He had been facing the entrance as I arrived, and when I bowed in respect at the doorway, he and the woman to his right stood. "My King," I announced as clearly and friendly as possible.

"Guards!" barked the young woman. Gulping, I attempted to control my shallow breathing.

"Wait!" I begged, torn between glancing up and keeping my gaze on the ground.

I felt Zen arrive behind me, as well as the obvious shift of curiosity in the others. "Zen?" I recognized Major General Rillhelm's voice, but I didn't dare move my eyes. "What is the meaning of this?"

"She wishes to speak with the King," Zen replied coolly, making the situation sound much more informal than it actually was. "We mean no harm."

"My Lord, we can be rid of these nuisances…" The girl was insisting yet again, making my eyes finally snap upward.

To my surprise, I saw King Wrynn raise a single hand to stop her proposition. Everyone held their tongues accordingly. "It's quite okay, Jaina," he said, his eyebrows clenched in curiosity. "Let the girl speak."

[end]

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