To His Royal Highness, King Varian Wrynn of Stormwind.

Greetings, Your Majesty. I hope this letter finds you and your son, our beloved Prince Anduin, safe and well, and that the Alliance continues to prosper.

I proudly present to you our only child, Braelyn, who is an accomplished hunter. We humbly request a small favour from you; that you assign to our daughter a few small assignments so that she may be useful to her King and country. She has been aimless of late, and we feel that by introducing her to the service of the Alliance she may finally enlist, and stop her pointless frolicking around Azeroth. She is a loyal girl, and will serve you well.

Your most obedient servants,

Jasper and Ellysan Hawke.

"Pointless frolicking?!" Braelyn whisered in outrage. "I don't frolic!"

"Not many people do," the king said in amusement. "Except the elves, of course. Tyrande is an excellent frolicker." Braelyn looked at the royal with a mixture of incredulity and resignation. "I take it you disagree with your parents' assessment then?"

"Light, yes!" Braelyn said. "I can't believe they hold so little respect for my accomplishments, or my goals."

"So, apart from not frolicking around our great lands, what have you been doing with your life, Braelyn Hawke?" The king asked.

As relieved as Braelyn was to discover that her monarch had a sense of humour after all, she really wished it wasn't directed at her. "Well, as soon as I turned 18, I left Goldshire and began traveling around Azeroth, honing my skills, and helping people as much as I could; picking flowers, killing kobolds, escorting travelers, whatever people needed doing, really. I only recently came home from a trip to Outland, where I helped the Cenarion Circle in Zangarmarsh.

King Varian looked thoughtful, stroking his strong jaw line. "It is admirable that you seek to help those in need, and are willing to go so far to do so. You are aware, though, that you could carry out many great, and helpful, deeds as part of the Alliance? In fact, you could help a great a deal more people as part of the Alliance than as an individual."

"I know, my lord, but with all due respect, as part of the Alliance, I would only be helping those who you and our allies decided to, and not who I felt needed the help most." King Varian inhaled sharply, and for a moment, Braelyn feared she'd overstepped her boundaries.

"You think I would refuse aid to those in need? That I would let people suffer needlessly because it would be inconvenient to help them? Or perhaps you feel I would ignore a person in trouble because of their race?" He sounded furious.

"N..no, Your Highness," Braelyn stammered, "I simply meant that in times of strife, people often fall through the cracks, or are afraid to ask for official help when the authorities are busy, or have limited resources."

"I see," replied the king. "You're right about that. The Alliance cannot be everywhere it's needed, unfortunately."

Braelyn finally raised her head and looked at Varian. He was looking at her with an intense and disturbingly determined look in his eye. "I won't lie to you, Miss Hawke, the Alliance needs every skilled body it can get its hands on. The fact that you are the daughter of two of our most loved heroes would also provided a much needed morale boost..." he paused as Braelyn muttered something unintelligible under her breath. "However, I am disinclined to enlist someone against their will unless the situation is most dire. Let me offer you a compromise."

"A compromise?'

"Yes. Instead of signing you up formally, I assign you to an Alliance territory in desperate need of aid, but lacking in resources. You'd still be exposed to the Alliance, but you'd still be able to follow your personal belief of helping where most needed. All that I ask for in return is that once the tasks are completed you give serious and fair thought to joining the Alliance officially."

Braelyn was shocked. She never expected the king to make such an offer. She had always believed him to be rather uncompromising and stubborn. She'd thought he would either throw her out in disgrace, or force her to enlist. The offer itself was very tempting. It sounded like she would be able to pretty much do what she'd always done, only this time she'd have people to report to. And it might actually help her define her goals in life; after all, 'helping people' is a rather ambiguous statement.

Yet, she was still hesitant. She knew that she could resist her parents, but she wasn't sure she could resist the King's wishes, and he obviously wanted her to sign up. Not to mention the Alliance soldiers she'd be meeting. When you fight side-by-side with people, you make friends, and if they wanted her to stay with them, she'd probably do so. Peer pressure was a bitch.

Braelyn's internal struggle must have been evident in her face because the King took her hand and told her that she didn't have to make a decision right away. "Come back and see me tomorrow," he instructed.

Braelyn looked him in the eye with a relieved smile, and said, "No need, I accept your offer."

Wait... what the hell did I just say?!

"You will?" the King asked in surprise. "Excellent! For a minute there I thought you'd turn me down. Go get some rest, then return to me in the morning. I'll have my advisors decide on somewhere to assign you."

No! No... no... no... no. No!

"Thank you, Your Majesty," Braelyn said cheerfully, and curtsied. The King responded with a bow before turning and leaving the throne room.

Braelyn was stunned. What the hell did I just do? She wanted to scream, but couldn't, given that she was still in Stormwind Keep. To make matters worse, she now had a splitting headache and was exhausted. She raised a hand to her face and began to massage the bridge of her nose.

Hang on... splitting headache and exhaustion after acting abnormally?

"Damn it!" she hissed quietly. "Someone mindcontrolled me!" But who? As surreptitiously as she could, Braelyn looked around her. It was now late in the day, and the throne room was much emptier than in had been when she had first arrived. A few servants wandered about, tidying up, and some of the King's advisors remained to deal with the remaining petitioners. Her eyes lingered on a guard, the same guard that had stared at her so intensely earlier in the afternoon. He was watching Braelyn in return, though his gaze was not as creepy as before. He seemed amused.

Braelyn walked up to the guardsman, but before she could say anything, he smiled and said, "The Light gives clarity, Miss Hawke, although it is not always gentle about how it chooses to do so."

What an odd, odd man, she thought. She wanted to confront him, but before she could even open her mouth, she found herself walking briskly out of the Keep.

"Damn it!"

"I thought you were smart enough not to eat forest mushrooms, Brae."

"Odariah!" Braelyn snapped at the human priest sitting opposite her in the Slaughtered Lamb. "I did not eat forest mushrooms. Or get drunk!" she added with a pointed look at the gnome beside her. She was upset that her friends were not taking the tale of what had happened at the Keep seriously. "What do you think, Andorien?

The tall Night Elf druid sitting between her and Odariah frowned at his drink as he contemplated Brealyn's situation. "I'm inclined to believe that what Braelyn thinks happened to her is true," he said in that rich, melodic voice that all Night Elves seemed to possess. "As a priest, Odariah, you should know that mind control is possible."

"Yeah, for priests, Andorien, not city guards."

"That was no ordinary city guard," Brealyn interrupted stubbornly. "I have no idea what the hell he is, but it is definitely not a guard. If I'm wrong, I'll eat Bitsie."

"Hey!" squeaked the tiny pink-haired woman who had somehow managed to worm her way around Braelyn's 'all rogues are awful, all the time' philosophy. "You understand why we're a bit on the skeptical side, right? I mean, why would a city guard, regular or otherwise want to mindcontrol some random hunter into doing some favours for the king? It makes no sense!"

"Of course I understand! This is the most batshit insane thing that has ever happened to me. I wish I'd eaten forest mushrooms, or drunk a keg of Dwarven ale, but I didn't. This really happened, and now I'm stuck working for the Alliance, the opposite of what I wanted to be doing with my life. I just... a little support, guys, yeah?" Braelyn sighed angrily, and sat back in her chair as an air of gloom settled over the small party, Bitsie and Odariah looking a bit guilty. She looked around the Slaughtered Lamb, which was practically deserted, as always. She hated this bar, preferring the Gilded Rose, in Stormwind's bustling Trade District. It was bright and colourful over there, full of life and energy. The Slaughtered Lamb, by comparison, was dark and dismal, full of cobwebs and harsh whispers. The barman never stopped staring at them, and the basement was full of warlocks doing Light knows what. But Bitise was banned from every other pub in the City, so they had little choice but to come here.

She studied her friends' faces. Odariah Hunt was Braelyn's cousin, and they had been best friend's since before they started to talk. The whole reason Braelyn hadn't taken off at 16 was because she'd had to wait for her friend to finish her studies at the Cathedral of Light. Technically, Odariah should have remained for longer, but her superiors felt that being out in the world might help to settle her exuberant and often reckless spirit. Even without her staff and robes, you could tell she was a Priest. The Light shone brightly within her, and everything about her, from her light brown hair, hazel eyes, and freckled skin glowed softly. For five years they'd traveled together, sharing the highs and lows of the adventurer's life.

They'd met Bitsie Sprazzletorque three years ago in Ironforge. The fun-sized rogue had attempted to duel every other rogue in the city at the same time. Needless to say, it had not worked out well for her, though she'd done better than one would have expected. She survived only because of Odariah's limited healing spells, and because it's hard to stealth with a hunter's flare on the ground, or an arrow in the knee. The gnome paid for the human pair's lodging in gratitude, and had stayed with them ever since. She was a little unreliable, but was trustworthy enough, and possessed a wit sharper than her daggers.

Andorien Starbreeze had found them in Redridge eighteen months ago. And by 'found', she meant 'rescued from a large group of murlocs and gnolls that Braelyn had managed to aggravate with a poorly thought out Multi-Shot'. His Druidic arts had saved not only their lives, but that of Braelyn's pet, who had been on the verge of death. She'd never quite gotten over the embarrassment of that day, nor had forgotten just how handsome Andorien had seemed to her at the moment of his arrival. He was awesome, in the true meaning of the word, with a stately presence that towered over everyone. Dark purple hair framed skin several shades lighter and silver eyes that burned with almost primal fury. Time had not dulled Braelyn's appreciation of the man, and the only thing that had held her back from acknowledging her infatuation was the painful truth of him being in love with Odariah. A love that was obviously returned, if never acted on in the hunter's presence.

These people are my whole world, thought Braelyn, even if they do annoy me on the odd occasion.

"You realise you ain't going anywhere without us, right?" Bitsie declared suddenly, startling Brealyn from her reverie.

"You want to come serve the Alliance now, do you?"

"Eh, not really," the gnome replied with a careless shrug, "but you'd be lost without us."

"And my parent's would never forgive me if I let you go alone," Odariah added, "not to mention what your parents would say." Braelyn let out a rude sound at that. Her parents would be lucky if she ever forgave them for pulling this stunt. She'd already sent them a letter telling them so.

"And knowing you three's talent for attracting more trouble than you can handle, you will have need of my healing skills," added Andorien with a fond smile.

"Are you guys sure?' Braelyn asked. "It could turn nasty. Despite the King's good intentions, I'm willing to bet some his officers won't hesitate to send us into the thick of things."

"We're sure," Odariah said firmly, reaching over to squeeze Braelyn's arm. "We're in this together, Braelyn."

"Hey, maybe we'll get sent to Silithus!" Bitsie said with excitement.

"Elune's breath, no!" Andorien groaned. "The Circle try to recruit me every time I go there."

"What about Un'Goro Crater?" Odariah suggested with a playful wink at Braelyn.

"Don't even joke about that, woman!" Braelyn said. "One encounter with a crazed moron who can't tell the difference between a dinosaur and a dragon is more than enough for me." Her companions laughed, and kept making suggestions, each more outrageous than the last, well into the night.

"Oh, shit," Braelyn yelled, as an impossibly huge Tauren came charging toward her with great sword in hand. She yelped as she started backpedaling, attempting to pull her daggers free from her belt. Her bow was useless now, she'd run out of arrows ten minutes earlier, and it was not strong enough to use as a club. Returning to the Alliance base was not an option; the middle of the battlefield was awash with the two armies, swords and spells flying, and well placed enemy combatants were picking off Alliance members attempting to use the shelter of the side paths to return to base. She swore under her breath at the Night Elf ranger who had insisted they come here. I should have known that they'd twist the King's intentions to suit their own purpose, she thought, narrowly avoiding a collision with a Draenei mage.

The daggers came free, but in her haste and nervousness, Brealyn dropped them. The Tauren warrior snorted in contempt and said something in Orcish. "I almost pity you, human," he added in Common, raising his weapon for what Braelyn feared would be a death-blow. She had no idea where Andorien or the others were, and the Alliance was running desperately low on effective healers. The few they had left were closer to the main action. In a fit of desperation she whistled for her pets; Growly, who she'd set on an Forsaken hunter to distract him, and Giggle, her owl, who was circling the field retreiving arrows for her master. Luckily, Growley had been closer to her than she'd thought, and the massive brown bear slammed into the Tauren, sinking his teeth into a vulnerable area around the warrior's elbow.

"Argh!" he bellowed, as his sword hit the ground. He attempted to shake Growly loose, but only succeeded in angering the bear further. Growly tugged and pulled until the Tauren was on his knees. Braelyn knew she should kill him, that if she didn't, he'd simply get up, call for some of his allies,and kill her and Growley before going off to slaughter her friends, but still... could she really take another person's life? A man whose only crime seemed to be that he was not Alliance? He was fighting for his faction, his people, same as her. How was she any better than him?

Braelyn found her daggers and picked them up, noting how heavy they seemed compared to her bow, which was like an extension of her body. Maybe my conscience is weighing them down, she thought. "Growly, down," she instructed, and the bear pulled the man so he was leaning back, exposing his chest and head. By now, he'd lost a lot of blood, and was in no position to do anything other than struggle feebly. She stepped over to him. Her hands were trembling so hard she could barely hold on to her weapons. She let one tumble to the ground, steadying the other with both hands. She knelt by the Tauren's side, placing the tip of her dagger against his armour, over the area where she thought his heart should be. She took a deep breath and prepared to plunge the dagger downwards, when the Tauren let out a weak laugh.

"Foolish, girl," he snorted, "Your dagger is not strong enough to pierce plate armour. If you want my life, you must aim for my throat." He lifted his hand and grabbed Braelyn's, lifting it to his neck. Growly let a menancing growl, but Braelyn quietened him with a shocked, "sssshhhhh".

"You want to die?" She could not hide her surprise. The Tauren laughed again.

"No, but I would rather die honourably, fighting against the enemy who slaughters my people like cattle out in the Barrens, than live with the knowledge I was denied that death by an uncertain or cowardly newbie." He paused, his deep blue eyes becoming almost sympathetic. "There is no dishonour in this, human," he added, before dragging Braelyn's hand, and her dagger, along his own throat.

Blood...so much blood, Braelyn thought as the bright red liquid exploded out of the dying Tauren's artery. "Growly, away!" she screamed and wiped her hands frantically on her chestpiece, but the blood was all over her. It's smell was coppery and cloying, she'd never get it off her, never forget it until her dying day. She heard a heavy thud as the warrior toppled over, and she scrambled away. She was crying, but hardly noticed the tears. Without warning, she felt bile rise up in her throat, and fell to her knees, retching... an action that saved her life, as it spared her from the twin blades of a rogue that had stealthed up behind her. Sensing, rather than seeing something wrong, Braelyn kicked one of her legs back and to the side, knocking the rogue's feet out from under her.

Braelyn managed a clumsy roll to the side, and stumbled to her feet. A loud cracking sound told her that her opponent, a red-haired Blood Elf, had broken a bone when she collided with one of the tree stumps that littered the battlefield. From the way the elf staggered and swore when she put weight on her left leg suggested a broken ankle. Braelyn had time to be surprised by the sound of a Blood Ef swearing in Orcish, before having to duck a throwing knife. It grazed her right cheek, causing a long cut. The sharp burning sensation, and the blood trickling from the wound, combined to bring Braelyn to her senses. The rogue smirked at her, her glowing green eyes self-assured and bold. She put her full weight on both feet and barely even grimaced, even though the pain must have been immense.

Braelyn was dumbfounded. The elf had a broken ankle and was still able to fight? The hunter could not understand how it could be so. She was relativey unscathed and had already had enough, sure that it was only fear and adrenalin that kept her upright. This must be what experience does, Braelyn thought. Everything about this elf spoke of many years on the fields of war, which she thought was kind of sad, as the elf seemed barely as old as Braelyn was, even taking into account the youthfulness of the elven races.

Growly came up beside Braelyn and nudged her leg, which was reassuring as the hunter was now unarmed and facing an opponent who, even with a broken bone, seemed more than capable of taking her and her pet out. She thought sadly of her friends, and hoped that they escaped this slaughterhouse. She whistled, and Growly lunged forward, forcing the rogue backwards, her injury barely even slowing the elf down. Braelyn turned and ran, scouring the ground for arrows. Please, by the Light, just one!

She took ten steps before the world exploded.

A/N - The Blood Elf rogue is Norivana Sunstepper, from Breaking Faith by Feffervesce here on FF. Check it out, it's a great read. Also, the moron from Un'Goro that Braelyn mentions is Maximillian of Northshire, who also can't tell the difference between male and female blood elves.

I was really disappointed when I started playing WoW again and discovered that hunters no longer had melee weapons.