A/N: I'm sorry that this chapter was a little late. I wrote it down on paper and then kept forgetting to type it up, since it technically was done on time. That's cool that Wrathion's name is different in the german version! Thank you all for reading and reviewing :)

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So, I guess the red flight has a history of messing around in the black flight's affairs? And I also guess that Wrathion, with this little grudge of his in full swing, was used to having underlings, because as he kept that creepy gaze on Derres, he snapped, "Break his legs."

There was this tense silence for a moment before we all realized that I was the one who would be doing the breaking. I really think it dawned on him that he'd erred in his command, but even as I opened my mouth to reply that I didn't think I could take on a dragon, Derres snorted, his long, slender ears quivering from the movement.

"That won't be happening any time soon."

Okay, yes, I'd been about to say something to that effect. Somehow, though, him answering for me made me indignant. He didn't need to say it that way, you know? After all, I'd sort of considered him a friend. I mean, I had worried when he'd gotten hurt and all.

I think I mumbled something about maybe being able to surprise someone, but the dragons ignored me. They, as a species, seem to have decided that they're better than the rest of us. It's really annoying. And kind of racist. Stupid dragons.

So I stood there, half wanting to storm off or demand an apology and half wanted to stay as the apparent fly on the wall that I was to them anyway. Guess which side won out? I wanted to know things. I'm always so in the dark, you know? Like, why Derres and Nicolas and Clara had tried to keep me from Brath—I mean, I can guess, but I'd like to know for a fact—or maybe even find out some different information that could help everything fall into place.

So I stood there in plain sight beside Wrathion, pretty much invisible to them.

The Black Prince was in a fickle mood. I think between finding out that messages of betrothal or whatever have been mis-communicated and seeing someone you don't like, anyone's day would go sour, but his seemed especially so. "Apparently your pets are meddling in my affairs."

Derres crossed his arms. "They aren't mine. I cannot control what they do."

"Lie as you will, I've heard of your past adventures, of how you claim them when it is convenient for you. They are yours." His frown deepened. "So why do you let them twist my messages? Is this all some game for you? Perhaps I should find another champion. Someone who doesn't have the red flight's hooks sunk so deeply into them."

"You are rash in your youth," Derres dismissed him much as they had earlier dismissed me. "And anyway, I'd had no knowledge of your messages, so even if they are my 'pets', I could not have controlled the outcome."

"You did not find it strange for Zaercia and Brathrion to be coupled?"

"Regardless of what I find strange, I recall being told to keep myself untangled from your affairs. You did not wish for our assistance, noble whelp, so be assured you will receive none."

I wanted to point out that Derres was kind of switching his arguments around, but we all say dumb stuff when we're angry, right? And it never helps when someone else points it out. So I stayed quiet.

A few more thinly veiled insults and threats were tossed back and forth and I figured that if I could ever go to a medieval court, this would be the sort of political intrigue I'd see.

It was surprisingly boring. I mean, you're probably thinking Game of Thrones, but the thing with that is that the scenes are kind of short, right? From what I remember, anyway. My dad and Greg watched it and would always give me weird looks when I came in to see what they were watching, like I was interrupting male bonding or something.

Anyway, in that show, basically they're sticking to the interesting stuff and then glossing over the boring points. Which I guess any movie does. They'd let you see the flaring 'oh snap' moments and then move on so that you don't have to see the lame stuff.

Well, unfortunately, I do not live in a movie.

The dragons were basically just saying the same things to one another with different words, trying to one up the other and it was like the weirdest pissing contest ever. However, even as I thought maybe I'd go track Neesera or Fizz down and get more information the friendly way—gossip—another voice interrupted the gentile bickering and we all looked up to see two women walking down the stairs just behind Derres. One was the dragon I'd seen with Derres before. The one who'd named Zaercia as Brath's mate.

The woman next to her—another dragon, I sort of assumed from the company she was keeping, though I suppose with that logic, I was a dragon, too—was freakin' gorgeous. She had long, long black hair that just looked kind of like a silky curtain flowing down, ending at the small of her back. Her skin was this beautiful unblemished copper tone and her eyes shown golden. She looked like some sort of fairytale princess and the silks of her dress shifted softly around her as she trod barefoot down the stairs.

Both women gave our group a curious once over before the goddess—I'm not gay, but holy crap—smiled at the dragon beside me. "My prince," she curtsied low.

I mean, I knew she had to be a dragon, but still. As I took in the little details on her body that confirmed it—the slit pupils, the elongated canines—it hit me.

As if to reinforce the stupor settling over me, Brath's little brother moved up the stairs to her, smiling. I could swear he was trying to stand a little taller and act older as he greeted her. "Zaercia, I'm glad to see you are well."

Brath turned that down? I have to say. I feel all sorts of special right now.

Anyway…

Zaercia returned the pleasantries and gave Derres a measured nod and then looked at me. I felt so out of place—at least I'd taken a shower and didn't look all grundgy anymore. But still, I kind of wished that I'd stormed off earlier so that I could have avoided this awkward meeting.

She offered me another curtsy and I found myself trying numbly to do one myself. It didn't turn out great. Wrathion seemed to remember my existence about that time and looked back at me as well, motioning hastily. "You've heard of Miss Amy Ford, yes?"

Without thinking, I offered her my hand. I mean, we'd already done all the bobbing and whatnot, but my brain wasn't quite functioning the way I wanted it to. I was still just shocked that Brath wasn't interested in her at all. I mean, he is a guy. At least a little interest would make sense, right?

However, even as I realized how dumb I must look, holding my hand out there, she simply extended hers and clasped mine.

"A pleasure to meet you, Miss Ford," Zaercia beamed. For the first time, I could honestly say that dragon fangs didn't freak me out. Whether I was just finally used to them or if it was because she was so…happy and individual, I can't say. She kept talking though, her voice like a freakin' melody. "I do not know if you are aware, but it was because of you that my flight has a place to escape our fate. There is word that a few more of our brethren will be joining us here in your world in the coming months."

I have no clue how I responded, but it was something mind numbingly simple, like, "You're welcome." I'd wanted to say something flashy and noble, but my mind had blanked and the moment passed.

However, I was not the only one to fall under Zaercia's spell. Wrathion was different. Almost like an awkward teenage boy asking the head cheerleader to the prom. Then it hit me.

That was pretty much exactly the sort of thing happening. So, yeah, he'd been kind of a jerk earlier, but I couldn't let him flounder. After all, why do you think he sent her a message about being his consort instead of telling her in person? Maybe he's afraid of rejection, maybe he's afraid of tripping over the announcement himself, but he's still young, so you know, he's not good at the whole courting a lady thing.

Well, I couldn't help myself. Perhaps it was just because I was finally able to feel pity for someone other than myself, but I spoke up. "Miss Zaercia?" I asked, stepping forward. "About the message you received in regards to Brath—"

Her face fell and it was like a cold wind had extinguished a candle. "Ah, that."

"Clara misheard, I'm afraid," I shrugged. I tried to think of what Derres had said when we'd first discussed Brath after I got back from Moonglade. "You were to be informed that you were the prince's consort, not Brathrions," I don't know how, but I finally got his name right.

Her smile returned slightly as she looked from me to the prince. "This is true?"

Wrathion's gaze was on me, however, his eyes wide. I shrugged. "Yes." I spoke for him, since he seemed too quiet. I had to wonder if I was doing something wrong, but you know what? I was already this far. I motioned toward the prince. "When he heard that the message had been messed up, he came to fix things himself, but Clara was so embarrassed…she doesn't know what to say, but I thought maybe if I conveyed how sorry she is, you might be able to forgive the misunderstanding?"

After all, I didn't need any dragons going on a killing spree, pretty ones included. And if anyone was gonna kill Clara and Nicolas, oh, it's gonna be me.

I have to say, I was kind of mad at Wrathion almost as soon as I'd said that. There was no mouthed 'thank you' or quick nod of approval or anything. Though he did go with the story. Derres, too, though his gaze did linger on me for a moment until I excused myself and wandered back downstairs. I was so not cut out for that sort of stuff.

As I plodded along, figuring I'd head back to my room and tell Brath the good news that he wasn't betrothed to someone he hated—how he could hate her was beyond me—I was caught in a bear hug. It took a moment to finally get the greenish arms to release me before I was able to look up and see Senta'ri. "Ameh, we be goin' on patrol. A short one, yeh? Come wit' us! Ya be hangin' around de Alliance too much dese days."

Doing just about anything sounded great at the moment. It'd get me away from Nicolas and Clara—so I could cool down and not run up to them half-cocked—and it'd give me a chance to avoid Eric and figure out how to talk to him about the sucky stuff that had happened—for him, of course, not me—and even keep me out of dragon politics for a bit.

"Sure, lemme get Brath," I said without thinking. So much for staying out of everything, right? Though…I mean, Brath and I are…whatever we are.

Senta'ri sniffed the air and then slapped my shoulder. "Good on ya, gurl." I froze—seriously, did that shower do nothing? Not That I'm ashamed or anything, I just…I don't need everyone in my business, right? Anyway, my favorite troll—also the only troll I really know—kept talking. "It be important ta find love where ya can, yeh?" His grin widened. "'n ya just helped meh win thirteh gold from Bart."

It took me a second to realize he meant Mr. Blackheart and another second to realize what that meant. "You made a bet about me and Brath?"

"We be makin' bets on ev'rehtin." He was practically walking for me down the hall, his arm slung over my shoulder to keep me moving along at his brisk pace. "Ya want in on some, jus' say de word. Jus' didn't peg ya for a gambla."

I was at a loss for words. However, before I could say anything else, Senta'ri's smile slipped. "Bart don't be wantin' nahbodeh ta say nuttin', but Ah neva been one for lissenin' ta some undead." He eyed me to make sure I was listening and properly intrigued before continuing. "ya be careful, t'ough, ya hear? Dat Brath…he ain't right in de head." He hugged my shoulders before releasing me. "Dat dragon do nettin' ta hurt ya, lemme know. Me 'n Fizz take care a it." He waved. "Meet ya outside."

I stared after him. Part of me was surprised that he and Fizz were apparently buddy-buddy. And with him being so open about that, it's bound to blow Fizz's cover as a spy. If I get the chance, I'll have to ask him if he's just given up on pretending to be neutral to stay in his home or not.

However for the most part, I was thinking about Brath. Why does everyone have to tell me that he's a conniving jerk? I mean, I know that. It's somehow endearing, sort of. Maybe I'm just really simple.

I don't know, but I really wanted to talk to Brath, maybe get him to come with me on the Horde adventures, since I haven't gotten to be around him a lot lately.

When I got back to my room, though, it was empty. Everyone else was out doing something and that didn't really surprise me, but, I don't know, I guess I'd expected Brath to hang out so that we could catch up. And maybe snuggle without him asking what the point is.

But he wasn't there.

I was so disappointed. And then I had to wonder about what people are saying, though it was only for a minute. Where was he? Had he just been using me, after all? To what end? I mean, seriously, what would he get out of pretending to be with me?

Oh, God. I'm getting clingy.

I really wanted to wait for him to get back, but I didn't want to be one of those girlfriends. You know the kind. The ones who are hanging off their boyfriend's every word and who can't blink without making sure that their guy will still be around after that fleeting darkness.

So I told myself we'd catch up later and wrote a quick note for him, saying I'd be back tonight and left it on my pillow, since—so far as I knew—Brath didn't really have his own bed or room. And surely he'd come looking for me, right?

Well, the patrol group was pretty awesome. It was like a Horde version of my slumber party with the Alliance. Except we were killing demons in between drinks. I did ask once if it was cool for them to be getting wasted when they were supposed to be paying attention—again I wasn't drinking a lot—and they just laughed at me.

But they're a good group, really. I like them, now that they're not all giving me the silent treatment. Miksa, the orcess rogue, was finally back. I think she and the orc warrior alchemist guy of our group have a thing. That or they hate each other. It's kind of hard to tell with orcish signs of affection. They seem really into blood. And glory and honor and ancestors. And blood. I get the impression that if they could, they would have contests to see who could rip apart the most demons with their bare hands, but that they have to keep things 'civil' while they're around the Alliance.

Oh, a sort of side note: for the most part, humans from my world are a little bit smaller than the humans from Azeroth, so there is enough of a difference that the Hordies can tell who's from what world with a simple glance. And I guess now that they know I'm not some mewling babe that should have been abandoned at the side of the road at birth so that my parents could focus on stronger children, I'm cool.

The tauren shaman who first came with me to my world seems a lot more comfortable, too. His windrider still looks at me like it wants a snack, but he smacked its nose earlier, so it's brooding a ways behind the rest of the group.

The orc is named—probably nicknamed—Ripper—if it's a nickname, he has a nickname for that, which is like, bizarre, unto itself…they call him Rip, mostly—and our tauren shaman is Cloudeddawn. They call him Fluffy.

I'm pretty sure there's probably an awesome story behind that. Because he's not very fluffy at all. And he looks like he'll mess you up just as bad as an orc or troll, until you get to know him and realize that that scary grimace on his face is actually a smile. It's weird to see creatures with snouts smiling and stuff.

And they're not as scary as they used to be—broken record, I know.

Oh, and Mr. Blackheart was not there. He's probably wherever Brath is. I bet they have no problem snuggling…stupid bromance.

Anyway, we had fun, for the most part. I'm getting better at killing demons. I mean, I still have work to do—after all, I haven't been practicing much—but I can sort of hold my own now. And I could tell that the Horde guys were sort of impressed that I didn't suck so much any more.

Miksa was quiet for most of the night, at least around me, but then, after we'd been ambushed by one group of felguards and felhunters, she took some time to show me a few rogue tricks. She's a much nicer teacher than Nicolas. Like, you might not think that an orc would be very patient, but she is.

And she said that being a rogue isn't just about killing. It's about gathering information and stuff—which I suppose I already knew, but still—and that perhaps I was just better suited to being a spy than a fighter. She said there was no shame, so long as I could contribute to my cause.

I thought that was a surprisingly cool mentality to have. I mean, Nicolas has been keeping me in the dark and treating me like I'm a kid, but Miksa is all for me doing my part and all. Maybe it's just a culture difference?

I don't know, but it was fun. Senta'ri made jokes all night, I learned a few tricks about throwing daggers and Miksa showed me how to apply a poison to my daggers. Nicolas will probably flip out. But I'm still excited, because I felt like for once I was keeping up with everyone else, even if I did have the lowest number of kills.

…Yeah, they were keeping track of it and taunting each other with stuff like, "Oh, I've gotten thirteen so far tonight and you're only at eleven?" But then I'd get a demon and they'd be like, "Awesome! That brings you up to, what, five?"

And they weren't being douchey, it was like, legitimate compliments. I don't know much about the game, but there were levels, right? I don't know how many, but it's like these guys are the top level and I'm somewhere toward the bottom, so they recognize that and keep their expectations about around where I'd be level wise. If that makes sense?

Anyway, it was an awesome night and we just kind of bonded and killed stuff. Finally, though, Miksa said that she needed to get back to the base for a scouting mission—I guess this 'patrol' had just been a fun get together to them—and we headed back in.

While the rest of them hung back outside, looking for more fights and whatnot, I turned in. After all, I was exhausted. Oh, and if you're wondering, by the end of the patrol, I'd taken out seven demons. And sort of helped with another four. Senta'ri shared credit with me anyway, since we both kind of nailed them at the same time. I think he was probably the one who killed them, but…yeah.

I don't know. I like the Horde.

And the Alliance, too, of course. They're just different, you know? Different ideals, different cultures, different views on honor and whatnot. It's cool to see and I wish there was some way that they could overcome their hatred for one another and get along.

Who knows, maybe my world can draw them together?

Anyway.

When I got back to my room that night, Brath wasn't there and I was a little worried. I mean, seriously? Where does he go all the time?

Even though he wasn't there, there was something that made my day end on a good note. A second note had been tucked underneath mine on my pillow. It wasn't from Brath either, so you know.

The parchment was crisp and the handwriting was elegant.

I owe you, Miss Ford.

~W