To: Archmage Ellysan Hawke, Stormwind

From: Lady Jaina Proudmoore, Dalaran.

My dear friend,

I received word today about the fate of your daughter, Braelyn. Her abductor took her to Silvermoon City, where she is now a 'guest' of the Blood Elves. Apparently there was some initial confusion regarding her identity, which would explain the delay in discovering her location. I'm assuming that Sunreaver had something to do with revealing who she is, and, more importantly, who you are.

Lor'themar Theron assures me that she is unharmed, but I suspect that he intends to use her as leverage against me, possibly to secure the release of the Sunreavers still contained in the Violet Hold. He has not yet opened negotiations. I do not know why. Perhaps the situation in Pandaria is keeping him and his lackeys busy, as I know it is taking up much of my time.

Elly, you are one of my dearest friends, and you know that I would spare you the pain of losing your daughter if I could, but you also know that what Theron will ask for is something I cannot give him. I will not allow those traitors to walk free, not when they threaten the safety of the Alliance. I swear that I will do all in my power to find a way to bring Braelyn home through alternate means, but do not trust in hope. These are dark days, my friend, and we all need to make sacrifices.

I am sorry.

Jaina.

Braelyn sat in the Bazaar, on her favourite bench near the fountain. It was early afternoon and, having completed her work for Rommath, she was now spending her free time observing the Silvermoon guards. She was attempting to memorize their patrol patterns, and timing how long they took to move through various parts of the city. The citizens of Silvermoon were becoming used to her presence, no longer glaring at her, but accepting her as a temporary fixture in their city. A few of the more open-minded Blood Elves would occasionally stop and speak to her, some asking about missing loved ones, in the hope she might have information.

It was two weeks since her captors had discovered her last name, and Braelyn was living in a state of anxiety and hope. Hope that she would be freed, but anxious about what would happen should negotiations fail. She was also impatient; the Regent Lord and both of his advisors were spending a great deal of time in Pandaria, which meant that they could not negotiate Braelyn's release.

Rommath had been so smug when he found out about her mother. He seemed to take great delight in the fact that Ellysan Hawke's daughter had about as much magical aptitude as a doorknob. The only thing that stopped Braelyn from slapping him silly was the fact that he now seemed to trust her with more complicated tasks, and had stopped speaking to her like she was an idiot. He acknowledged that as the child of a mage, she had an in-built respect for magic, and what it could do if abused. This lead to him including her in the lectures he gave his apprentices, something that Braelyn found she enjoyed, though she would rather die than admit it.

And that's why I need to get out of here, she thought, chewing on her bottom lip. I cannot get used to living here.

"Still planning your getaway, huh, toots?" a brash voice interrupted Braelyn's thoughts. She grinned happily at the Goblin standing in front of her.

"Of course, Boxer!" she exclaimed. "What else do I have to do all day?" She laughed. Meeting the Goblin had been the bright point of the past fortnight for Braelyn. She had run into him, literally, at Lorelai's place one day, and was surprised by his willingness to make friends with her. The sharp-eyed man was shrewd, could haggle like a champion, and was skilled in the art of annoying stuck-up Blood Elves, which was ironic considering his position as the Bilgewater ambassador to Silvermoon.

Braelyn adored him already.

"Ya know, B," Boxter said, "I could cut ya a great deal on some mail armour and a nice bow. My cousin Fizzlestix is a trader, just arrived in town today."

"If by 'great deal', you mean 'free', then sure," Braelyn laughed. "It's not like I'm rolling around in gold right now."

"Hey, I'm sure the Grand Magister wouldn't notice if ya lifted a few candlesticks or something, Sweet Pea."

"Oh, I'm pretty sure he would, Boxer, and I am not going to get myself violently murdered over a pair of candlesticks." The human and goblin shared a laugh, and Braelyn was just about to invite her new friend to afternoon tea at Rommath's expense, when she noticed a crowd beginning to gather in one of the far corners of the Bazaar.

"What's going on?" she asked, seeing two Blood Elf priests begin to preach. After a while, she heard the small crowd begin to mutter. Boxer grabbed her hand.

"Ignore 'em, B," he warned. "They ain't nothin' but trouble, those two, and you don't need more drama in ya life." The goblin tugged on her hand, but Braelyn ignored him, practically dragging him over to where the priests were preaching.

"Our leaders are traitors!" the male priest declared. "They betrayed our old alliances in favour of our enemies!"

"It was the Alliance who betrayed us!" someone yelled. "Thier own Prince attacked our cities."

"And it is the minions of that prince you now call friends!" the priestess replied. "The Forsaken are the same scourge who almost destroyed us!"

"And that is not our only problem!" the male continued. "Our addiction to magic has almost destroyed us time and again, but, look around you! Instead of seeking to curb our dependence, the magisters indulge in excesses, using magic as a crutch, to make their lives easier. It is madness! We must learn control!"

"Whoa, priest boy's gonna get himself lynched!" Boxer exclaimed.

Braelyn looked around at the crowd, agreeing with her friend. While there were a few people who appeared to agree with what was being said, most of the assembled elves were furious, some already calling out that magic was what made Silvermoon great, and that the priests should go back to living like savages in the forests. The two priests continued in their efforts, though, even going so far as to call the magisters traitors.

That was enough for Boxer. The ambassador grabbed Brealyn's hand and started pulling her away, grimacing as he noticed three magisters in crowd. They had started a summoning ritual. "We need to go, like, yesterday," he said. She allowed Boxer to drag her a few metres before she planted her feet. She, too, had noticed what the magisters were up to. "Why do you got to be so damn stubborn, B?" he muttered under his breath.

Braelyn watched on in curiosity as the magisters summoned a Priest to their location. It was someone she recognised; a male Blood Elf by the name of Kath'Mar. He was one of Lorelai's superiors, and wasn't as kind to Braelyn as her friend was. He was very distrustful, refusing to acknowledge Braelyn's presence once the introductions had been made.

She watched as Kath'Mar studied the small crowd with a frown on his face. He obviously disagreed with what his fellow priests were saying. Braelyn edged forward slowly, in order to hear what was being said. She didn't understand why she was so intrigued by what was going on; she just felt like she needed to bear witness. She frowned as she saw Kath'Mar raise his hands and cast some sort of spell on the other two priests. It was familiar to her... perhaps she'd seen Odariah cast it.

"That should do it," he said to the magisters. "Let me know if they get out of hand again." The magisters nodded their heads in thanks as Kath'Mar walked away. Confused, Braelyn looked to the preachers.

"The magisters will be our salvation!" the priest cried, raising his hands in the air as if enraptured. His female companion let out a cheer.

"Long live the Sin'dorei! Glory to the Horde!"

"B?" Boxer asked, placing a hand on Braelyn's waist.

"Mind control," Braelyn said numbly. "He mind controlled them..." She thought back to her own experience with the spell, and all the trouble that had happened since, and she felt sick to her stomach. Nobody deserved to have their free will taken away, especially when they were exercising their right to free speech. She allowed Boxer to take her back to Rommath's, and by the time she walked into the decadent foyer, her nausea had transformed into rage.

"I. Can't. Believe. These. People!" Braelyn snarled angrily as she brought the meat tenderiser down on an unsuspecting tiger steak as hard as she could. Because she was confined to the city, she could not indulge in her usual method of relieving anger, which was to go running in the forests. Instead she had to make do with ruining as much food as she could, which had so far been twelve prime cuts of tiger meat, a dozen apples, and three cream cakes. Rommath's cook, a young elf named Auriel, had fled in terror some half an hour previously.

Braelyn would feel bad about that tomorrow. Right now she had meat to destroy.

"Are you done?" a voice inquired coldly. Braelyn glared at Rommath, who had appeared in the doorway.

"No."

"I won't have you acting like this in my house," the Grand Magister stated, trying to stare Braelyn down, but she was having none of it. "Especially over something that is none of your concern."

He's been talking to Boxer, she thought. "Seeing someone's rights violated is everyone's concern," Braelyn shot back. "Have you ever been mind controlled, Grand Magister? Because I have. It's how I ended up here. No one deserves that. Not when they are just expressing an opinion."

Rommath stalked around the table, and for the first time Braelyn noticed how tall he was, her nose barely reaching his shoulder. He stood in front of her, angrily folding his arms across his chest. "They were not expressing an opinion, they were sowing dissent!"

"Dissent! How is pointing out the obvious sowing dissent?" She questioned. "All they did was suggest you need to cut back on the magic..."

"If it wasn't for magic, this city would still be a pile of smouldering rubble!" Rommath growled, as Braelyn stuck her chin out stubbornly.

"There's a big difference between using magic to rebuild a city, and using it to sweep your floors," she spat. Rommath's eyes flashed dangerously. "And it's not as if they were saying that the magisters should be taken out back and shot either, so, I ask again, Rommath, where is the dissent?"

"I know what they've been saying about the magisters," Rommath replied, softly, and the hairs on the back of Braelyn's neck stood on end. "They call us traitors, betrayers of our race." He stepped forward, forcing her to take a step backwards in order to maintain eye contact. "In doing so, they cause my people to doubt our loyalties, and to question us. They refute our authority, sow chaos, and seek to divide the Sin'dorei."

Rommath moved forward again, this time not stopping until Braelyn was pushed against some cupboards. He raised his arms, trapping her where she stood. She could feel the anger rolling off him in waves, and began to feel claustrophobic. Braelyn could see the muscles along his long arms and broad shoulders flex as he braced himself either side of her head. His lips were a thin white line in the sharp angles of his face, and his eyes glowed with an inner fire. She couldn't understand how other people got male and female Blood Elves mixed up. Rommath was definitely male.

Braelyn had to fight to keep herself from trembling and looking away. She wasn't going to back down, not when she was right, even as she realised that his proximity was making her oddly forgetful about why they were arguing.

"Division leads to betrayal and death," he said, breath puffing gently across Braelyn's cheeks, and she suddenly felt like she couldn't turn away, even if she wanted to. "I have seen enough of that to last a thousand lifetimes. I will not see my people destroy themselves again, so l do what needs to be done to make sure we stay united."

Braelyn felt her anger wane. She still questioned his methods, but she could not fault his intentions. The passion with which he spoke could only come from a genuine love for his people, a desire to look out for their best interests. Besides, who was she to judge? She had no idea how King Varian dealt with all his subjects; chances are he employed tactics just as questionable. Light knows, she was well aware of how the Defias Brotherhood got started, and how the Stormwind refugees were treated out in Westfall.

She raised a hand and placed it hesitantly on one of Rommath's arms. "What they said about the Alliance..." she began, but paused when Rommath scoffed.

"They forget much."

"Perhaps they remember," Braelyn argued. "Many humans died defending Quel'Thalas from the Lich King," she pointed out. "You remember that, right?"

"I know more about those days than you could ever hope to," Rommath said. "Those human deaths were but nothing compared to the lives my people lost because of men like Garithos. Our loyalty, our friendship repaid with betrayal and death."

"We aren't all like Garithos!" Braelyn protested.

"Maybe not," he replied, gazing at her intensely. She felt her heart start to race as a rush of warmth overwhelmed her. "But too many are, and I can neither forget, nor forgive." He pushed himself away from her with an enviable grace, and stalked out of the room before she had time to register his movement.

Braelyn released a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. She put both hands over her heart, and tried to calm herself down. But no matter what she said to herself, she couldn't escape the realisation that something between her and the Grand Magister had changed.

Braelyn wasn't proud of herself; she was being a coward. Instead of dealing with the fact that she now recognised that Rommath was a complex individual (and a very handsome one at that), and not just her jailor, she was avoiding him as much as possible. She got up early, did her chores, and escaped into the city. She no longer read in the library, but took her books to her room, replacing them only when Rommath was out of the house. She spent so much time wandering the streets that she was able to tell all the guards apart. She was now so familiar with the city's layout, that if she'd had the gear, she'd be half way to Stormwind by now.

You can't deal with emotional conflict when you're on the run, she thought.

The Grand Magister himself gave no clue as to whether he was aware of her suffering, treating her the same as he always had. This made Braelyn feel worse. Did he feel like something had changed as well, or was he oblivious? Did he even realise that she was avoiding him? If he did realise, did he care?

"Ya gonna have to talk to him eventually, Sweet Pea," Boxer said, laughing as Braelyn jumped and blushed furiously. He found the whole situation hilarious. While Braelyn was confused about her feelings, he knew very well that the young human was attracted to the Blood Elf. Goblins were very upfront about such things, though he could understand why she was still in denial.

"No, I don't. I'm going to avoid him until I escape. Then I'll forget he even exists," Braelyn said, handing a pile of freshly made bandages to Lorelai. The Goblins had gifted the supplies to the Blood Elves as a sign of friendship, and she had decided to help the priests turn the material into something useful. Plus, it gave her a chance to death glare Kath'Mar all she wanted.

Lorelai sighed. "Are you still thinking about escaping?" she asked. She thought Braelyn was better off staying in the city, and trusting in the Regent Lord's negotiating skills. Braelyn nodded, but said nothing. She didn't want to get Lorelai into any trouble, not when she knew the priest's boss could mind control her into doing something terrible.

She decided to change the topic, telling them about how she'd first met Andorien in Lakeshire. She'd just gotten to the part where she'd multi-shotted about three targets too many, when she heard a commotion by the door.

"You cannot bring that foul thing in here!" Kath'Mar yelled, gesturing at an imp that was cackling maniacally as it danced about. The imp's owner, a statuesque red-headed woman, ignored him, walking into the room. Her green eyes swept over the assembled people imperiously, coming to rest on Braelyn. Flicking her hair over her shoulder, she made her way to where the human was sitting.

"This is Rommath's little slave, correct?" she asked Lorelai in Thalassian, voice loud and full of arrogance. It took all of Braelyn's self-control not to start twitching.

Slave? Damn warlock bitch, who does she think she is? she thought.

"This is his guest, Braelyn," Lorelai corrected, as sternly as she could. Which wasn't much, as Lorelai was one of the loveliest people in existence, and a priest. It was hard for a priest to out bitch a warlock. Said warlock just sniffed and waved her hand in contempt.

"I don't care what her name is," she said. "Rommath sent me to fetch her. We need her."

"For what exactly?" Boxer said, eyeing the warlock with suspicion.

"That's no concern of yours, Goblin," she replied scornfully. "Now come along, human."

With a resigned glance at her friends, Braelyn followed the warlock back to the Grand Magister's residence. The elf woman ignored her, which was fine by Braelyn, but the stupid imp made a nuisance of itself the entire trip. She got so sick of trying not to step on the demon that in the end she gave up and ended up punting it halfway down the Walk of Elders. The warlock didn't even bat an eyelash, which surprised Braelyn.

If anyone had done that to one of my pets, they'd have gotten an arrow to the face.

Rommath was waiting for them in his laboratory, and Braelyn forgot her anger at the warlock in favour of a new wave of embarrassment. She fidgeted nervously as he directed her over to a bench and told her to start cutting up some herbs. Without a word, she did as she was told.

The warlock's name was Denaria Daybreak, and she and Rommath had apparently known each other since the dawn of time. She had enlisted the magister's help in developing a potion to aid the Wretched, those poor Blood Elves that had succumbed to their magic addiction. Because Braelyn had let slip that she was a herbalist, Rommath decided that she could have the honour of sorting out and cutting up all the herbs they'd need for their experiments.

In a way, Braelyn was happy to have been volunteered for the job; she felt sorry for the Wretched, and thought it was great that someone was trying to help them. Yet, after a few days spent almost exclusively in Rommath and Denaria's company, she was about ready to stab herself in the eye.

From the start, Denaria went out of her way to be unpleasant to the human. Braelyn was used to such behaviour, though, and was able to ignore it. What was intolerable was the fact that Denaria was obviously interested in Rommath, and flirted with him shamelessly. It made Braelyn's own confused emotions crystallise in her mind, something she wasn't ready to deal with. Yet it was hard to deny being attracted to Rommath when every time the flame-haired hussy went near him, Braelyn wanted to set her perfectly coiffed hair on fire.

Making everything worse was the fact that Braelyn could not let on that she was upset, because the Blood Elves only ever spoke in Thalassian, except when ordering her about.

At night, Braelyn would relive the argument she and Rommath had in the kitchen, and her imagination ran wild. Her sleep became sporadic and plagued by nightmares, and she began to lose weight. Still Rommath behaved as if nothing had changed. Perhaps, for him, nothing has, she thought sadly. She did not understand why her heart seemed to set itself on unobtainable men.

Eventually, Braelyn's lack of sleep and restless mind were to catch up with her. Rommath had asked her to rearrange some of Denaria's potion samples while he and the warlock studied some obscure alchemy textbooks. It was a tedious process for them all, and it did not take long for Denaria to resume trying to worm her way into Rommath's arms. While the warlock usually limited herself to words, tonight she actually poured herself onto Rommath's lap, winding her arms around his neck.

Braelyn tried to beat down the white-hot surge of jealousy that clouded her mind, as Rommath merely raised an eyebrow at the woman in his lap. "Bored are we?" he drawled. Denaria grinned.

"Very," she said, and Braelyn thought that Thalassian had never sounded so seductive. "How about we go upstairs and have some fun?"

Braelyn's reaction was immediate; she gasped loudly and dropped the handful of vials she was carrying, causing them to shatter on the tiled floor. The thick green liquid formed a pool at her feet, but she didn't care. She was too busy staring at the Blood Elf warlock in a fit of jealous pique.

"You clumsy oaf!" Denaria yelled, leaping to her feet. "Watch what you're doing! Rommath, I thought you said this girl was competent."

"I am not clumsy, you stupid, stuck-up cow!" Braelyn retorted in Thalassian. She did not register her mistake until she heard Rommath's harsh gasp, and saw Denaria's surprised expression. She slapped a hand over her mouth and stared at Rommath in horror. The magister looked livid as he got to his feet. She turned and tried to flee, but he caught her before she reached the door and slammed her against a table. He glared down at her.

"Something else you forgot to mention?"

AN - oooh, angry Rommath is angry!

Next chapter: Rommath accuses Braelyn of being a spy, and an unlikely person comes to her defence. Braelyn's failing strength prompts Boxer and Lorelai to take drastic action.