Sarah and Darrick were both standing in the inn where they had seen Galen last. Marcail had disappeared, too. Though they both came to the suspicion that they both had something to do with the recent massive death count. Though, they didn't report anything to the Ironforge law enforcers. The official story had been a mass murderer that was loose on the streets, and a new curfew was posted until the murderer was caught.

"If this had something to do with Marcail," Sarah bent under a table, searching for clues. "Then maybe he killed her."

"Galen wouldn't do that," Darrick searched behind the bar. "He would have told us if she were dead by now. And besides, he wanted her alive no matter the cost."

"What I don't understand is that I bonded her magic, and if she was still able to break free of it and use magic."

"I'm sure they will send us something, telling us where they went." The paladin looked over broken glasses and mugs. He was really hoping that Galen would know they would search here, and leave behind a note of some sort.

"If they went anywhere, they probably took the tram to Stormwind. It's the quickest way out of the city, and Galen wouldn't have to take her through the cold." She finally stood up, and dusted her hands off. "I don't think we should stay too much longer. My sleeping spell will only last so long on the two guards outside."

"If they went to Stormwind, why are we still looking for something that obviously isn't here?" Darrick came from behind the counter.

"Good question," she raised a chestnut eyebrow. "I say we find catch the tram and go home until he surfaces. I need to talk to some of my colleagues at the Slaughtered Lamb."

"That curse you performed on the blood elf," Darrick's eyebrows narrowed a little, "you have no idea what the side effects are."

"Which is why," Sarah huffed angrily, "I'm going to Stormwind. You can go search through your goody goody scrolls at the Chapel of Light, if you want. Or you can stay here. Either way, I'm going to find a way to fix it with my magic." She stomped past him to the door and Darrick rolled his eyes, but followed her anyway.

.

The afternoon seemed to crawl by, as Marcail stared out of the porthole, sitting on the bed again. Galen was at the desk shuffling a deck of cards from his possession, and the amulet with the magic gem had been tucked under his cloth tunic, just to eliminate the temptation. His gaze kept traveling back to the pretty blood elf, her ankles crossed and hugging her knees to her chest. Her face upturned to the sun coming in from the window. He had been thinking of ways to strike up a conversation for the past hour or so, but every time he came up with a good topic, he was met with disinterest. Usually, he didn't have a care as to striking up meaningful exchange with a female, it always seemed to come naturally to him.

He had tried asking her about her professions, for most night elves were very crafty and proud of their work. This led nowhere, as she stated she didn't know any. When he asked her why, she simply shrugged and said she belonged to one of the most influential and wealthy families of Silvermoon, so there was no reason to have one. He tried asking about her family, if she had brothers or sisters. She had shrugged him off, saying that he knew her general background, and knew she had a younger brother. This wasn't going anywhere fast, and there was still a day and a half of time on the boat to kill.

"So, Marcail," he tried again, still shuffling his cards, "do you know any card games?" She turned, a quizzical expression on her face.

"Card games?" Her nose wrinkled and her voice cracked.

"If you don't know any, you can just say so," he gave her an enticing grin, it brought anger in her veins. Her brows lowered and her lips pursed. "I might know of one," she admitted, trying to appear calm and cool after that embarrassing voice inflection.

"Well then, maybe you can teach me," the night elf rose from the desk, bringing the chair along with him. He sat in front of her and handed the mage his deck of cards. She carefully took them in her hands and looked through the stack. Admittedly, she never really played with the sinful objects that attracted drunkenness and gambling. Lesser people of lesser values would gamble away life debts and agree to outlandish dares while playing with these simple pieces of thick parchment. Her parents kept her away from that sort of life and lectured to her and her brother that card playing and gambling were only for the weak minded. But they couldn't shelter her forever. When she was on the road and in Northrend, she learned a few tricks on her own from watching and observing others, from a safe distance.

Tucking a loose lock of dark blonde hair behind her elvish ear, she started laying out a triangle of cards, face down. Four on the bottom, three one row up, then two, then one. She divided the remaining cards and gave him half. She turned one of the cards on the bottom corner facing up. Quickly, she explained the rules, only using seven cards at a time, and only drawing from the pile that was given to you.

"Just match up the cards with whatever is in your hand," her lips curled, "if you can."

"So, you haven't said what the stakes are." He raised an eyebrow, suggestively.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, what do I get if I win?" He challenged.

"Respect, I guess," she shrugged, eyeing him cautiously.

"No, that's not good enough," Galen leaned back in his chair and looked to the ceiling with a hand on his chin. He thought for a moment and finally said, "Winner of each round gets to ask a question, loser has to answer it no matter if they don't want to."

Marcail swallowed hard. This was dangerous territory she was walking into, and she should probably just put down the cards now and go find something else to do. Something else to occupy herself for the next two days. But looking into his smug and devilishly handsome face, she didn't want to back down in that moment.

"I guess I'm in," she nodded. A wolfish smile formed on Galen's face.

"Excellent." He replied, putting down the first card.

Marcail looked through her cards, and put down one of hers. He returned with another card, and she followed suit. The flicking of cards whispered in the air as they were placed on the bed over other ones. After a few more rounds, Galen finally gained the upper-hand. Then, Marcail realized she was out of playable cards. She laid her cards out face-up to show the warrior her pitiful defeat.

"Well," he flashed her another charming smile her way, "it looks like you lose this round."

"Yes, so let's not be a sore winner about it and just get on with the question." Her eyes rolled in annoyance. Galen pretended to look hurt, as he clapped a hand over his large chest.

"Ouch." He smiled and was surprised to see that she didn't try and accuse him of cheating or try to get out of the deal. Most Horde members he made bets with never turned out well. He thought of a worthy question and decided to go back to her family.

"Tell me about your family. What's your brother like?"

"The first one wasn't a question. The answer to the second one, he's just like any other blood elf mage." She replied, curtly. When she was met with a condescending gaze, she continued, sighing, knowing she couldn't back down on her promise. "My younger brother's name is Hayden. He looks very similar to me. If you met him on the streets today, you would instantly realize the resemblance between us. He and I could pass as twins when we were toddlers."

"Only one sibling?" Galen sounded a little surprised.

"Yes," she peered over her newly drawn fanned cards at him. "You find this odd?"

"I do. I've never really seen a family that small before in Darnassus. I thought my family was small, and I have four younger sisters." Galen explained.

"Four?" Her eyes widened.

"I would have figured you would have more siblings if your bloodline is that important." He said.

Her nose twitched and then she turned over the next card on the bed, ending the discussion. Clearly, he had struck a nerve. She put one of hers down first, and they played the hand out until Galen won again. She huffed a little through her nostrils, but when the warrior observed her reaction, he chuckled, a deep rumbling in his large chest filling the room. "Is there a problem, Galen?" Marcail's unamused gaze only made him chuckle more.

"You're kind of cute when you get mad," he grinned. The familiar heat rose in her face, and she tried to look away. He had caught her off guard. No one had ever said that to her before.

"I-I'm not-" Galen interrupted before she could bring her defenses to him.

"Okay, my next question is, why did you stay in Northrend so long? Arthas has been dead for a few good months now. Yet, you remained. Why?" He asked, and she inhaled deeply, as if she were gathering her swarming thoughts.

"I enjoyed my time in Northrend. Cleaning up the Scourge forces is something I'm good at." She wanted to tell him a little more, to explain why she had avoided returning to Silvermoon, but she was still unsure about opening up to her captor. The lines between harmless information and too much information were still blurry.

Things could be worse, he could have put her in a crate instead of letting her wander and stretch her legs about the ship. He struggled with his temper, but when it got the best of him, he apologized. The cuffs to her head had also ended long ago. It was strange, and their relationship had changed. He was no longer the uncivilized night elf, he had become someone who had protected her. He even protected her against Kael'Thas, by pulling her out of her mana-thirsty craze back in Ironforge. Could she really even fathom the thought of trusting him?

"Marcail?" His voice brought her out of her daze.

"Oh," she said dumbly, "yes?"

"I asked you to continue."

"Oh," she paused and replayed the past few words they exchanged. "Oh yes, I said I stayed in Northrend because I wanted to kill more Scourge. So many of my people were hurt by the Burning Legion and their forces when they came to Silvermoon, and I felt like I was doing something good. I know Icecrown won't ever eradicate the Scourge, but if we weaken their forces from where they are coming from, perhaps we can better protect our home cities from future attacks."

"I heard that Silvermoon was hit hard when Arthas came through," he nodded. "Why didn't you go there?" She shook her head.

"That's two questions. You have to win another round if you want me to answer that," she raised an eyebrow, and then she turned over the next card.

"Fair enough," he gave her a half smile, as he put down his choice of card.

Marcail searched through her own, and played her suit safely. She had drawn a card she hoped she could win with, but Galen had beaten her twice already. They matched each other's game for a few more rounds, before the warrior put his cards down on the bed.

"Fold," he shrugged. The mage grinned in response to his disappointed attitude.

"So, I get to ask a question," she tested.

"Yes."

"And you have to answer it no matter what?" She grinned wider, enjoying the power over her captor.

"Yes, yes, it's what we agreed on, and I've already forced you to answer mine." he waved his hand, but smiling anyway in good spirits.

"Okay, then," she looked to the ceiling to try and think, as she tapped a fingernail on her teeth. "So you said you had four sisters." She met his gaze.

"I do."

"What are they like?" She asked. When he gave her a strange look, she fumbled with her hands, trying to explain. "I've never really had a sister before, and I always wondered what it would be like. Hayden left home once he was of age, leaving me with the responsibility to make sure our parents were happy and safe. So, I guess I just want to know what it's like, even if it's not from my own eyes."

"Very well," he nodded, and leaned back in his chair to begin the story. "Let's see, well I am the oldest, and Darine is second born. She's a warrior, like our father and I, but she is still behind me in rank. She tends to be fierce and determined, even if it gets her in trouble. Darine is also very hot-headed and she still has much to learn about controlling her rage." Marcail met him with a sly stare, and he gave her a knowing grin.

"Yes, she and I share that in common. Next, there's Isla, and she's a druid with a knack for healing. She's very calm and level-headed, not at all like her older siblings. Isla is quiet and tends to keep to herself, but if you need help, she will always be there. Meluna is another druid, and she tends to be more wild and adventurous than her other sisters, and also tends to get into more trouble. Then, there's Lavena, the youngest. She's a priestess, and quite skilled even if her rank is low." He seemed to pause and reflect a little on his sister's character.

"Lavena is the baby," he continued, "but strangely I find myself learning from her at times. She can tell you the wisest things, you'd think she speaks from ancient texts. Her compassion and gentle nature is not of this world, I will tell you that."

"You speak so highly of her," Marcail tilted her head.

"I respect her," the warrior stated.

"I wish I could say the same for my brother," sorrow crept on her features and she continued. "I respect him in a certain way, but I'm also angry at him for leaving our family behind. For leaving me behind. He was supposed to marry a respectable family with powerful arcane bloodlines, but when he left, the duty fell to me. Then, my family decided to turn me into their experiment. This whole thing has just gotten so out of hand." She put a hand to her temple.

She looked so withdrawn from the conversation, but no anger was displayed on her face. Galen leaned forward to put a hand on her shoulder, to bring her back, but once he made contact with her, she jumped.

"Oh, Sweet Sunwell! I didn't mean to speak so freely," she said, as her fingers came up to her temple, "I get carried away in my own thoughts, I apologize if I've said too much."

"It's fine," he tried to calm her, his deep, baritone voice giving her a center to hold on to.

His tone of voice was what relaxed her. In a few days, she had seen a such a shift from a weathered, stoic, and experienced war leader, to a gentle, surprisingly kind, elvish kin. Never mind the arcane politics between their races, he did have some redeemable qualities. Besides being so handsome.

"Thank you for telling me about your sisters," she said.

"I'm actually glad you asked," he ran a hand through his long, dark hair, "because our destination is my family's estate just outside of Darnassus."

"But, you said we were going to the city."

"Yes, I did say that. Well, it was partially true, because we have to pass through the city to get to Teldrassil. My family's estate lies a little more northwest. It's a lot safer and more retreated out there. No pesky alliance guards to meddle with my plans." He explained, rather proudly.

"That's a terrible idea! So instead of killing guards, I kill all those precious to you!" She exclaimed, throwing her hands up to make her point.

"That's the thing," he kept his calm nature over hers, "with my sisters and father there, you won't be able to take advantage of anyone. Everyone there can match your power and bring you back to this world."

"This is insane, Galen," her eyes narrowed. "Why even bother with this much trouble?"

His gaze grew more intense, as he stared into her deep green eyes. Gone was the gentle man a few moments ago, and the war veteran was back in his place.

"There are things at work here that you could not understand."

The chill in his voice struck fear into Marcail's heart. She leaned away from him, leaning on her palms, chest rising and falling quickly as she gauged whether to run or prepare to defend herself. Or just do neither. He studied her, as if a predator watching it's prey's last moments. Then his predatory eyes shifted, growing a little more cloudy, and they dipped down to her chest. He watched her tantalizing breasts rise and fall in front of him.

The air around them changed, and Marcail felt the hunger in his gaze rise. She fisted the quilt on the bed, as the tension had so rapidly changed between them, she felt she needed something to ground her to keep her mind her own. Here, this intensely powerful warrior stared at her like no other had before. She felt desired, wanted, even if the need dabbled in the dangerous and forbidden laws.

Then, something happened to bring the heat to a boil, as the too-big collar of the dress slipped, exposing a naked, creamy shoulder. His lips parted, grinding his teeth at the image. Marcail kept running back in forth in her mind, pull it back up! Screamed one side. No! Leave it be! He might give you another one of those delicious kisses!

The other part of her screamed back. You idiot! Why do you want to tempt him further? Her tongue darted out and licked the rim of her lower lip, and she made the move to pull the collar back up. A large, strong hand grasped her wrist, and Galen was on his feet before her. One hand held himself up on the bed, and the other gripped her wrist. She felt her pulse race under his hand, and she swallowed hard, staring back into those intense golden eyes.

The warrior felt her fast heartbeat under his iron grip. All thoughts other than Marcail seemed to be far away and gone. Right now, he had her, alone, and all he had to do was start the fire for the inferno to come. He started leaning in, closing the gap between them until he was partially on the bed, hovering over her trembling body. Marcail closed her eyes and parted her lips for him, knowing what came next. As he grew closer, he froze with their lips millimeters apart.

"Stop me if you don't want this," he whispered breathlessly.

She heard the words he said, but she could only think of his close proximity, and the taste of him from the night before. The hovering was almost excruciating, as she wanted so badly to have him on her lips. The painfully exquisite tension proved too overwhelming for the mage, and she reacted by boldly pressed her head forward, stealing the kiss and surprising him. With her response, Galen gave a deep rumble from his chest, indicating his approval in her action. He climbed the rest of the way on the bed, with his arms wrapping around her, pulling her small figure into his own. The cards, long abandoned, fell to the floor.

A sharp inhale came from the mage, as her shy hands came to rest on his shoulders once again. He was so delicious, and he smelled even better. Of fresh soap and a little bit of his polish he used on his plate armor. Her head was spinning, but she found it so intoxicating as her heart beat harder against her ribs. His kisses set her senses ablaze with his strong lips, but he was being so gentle with his kiss. Galen allowed his hands to roam her slender back, pulling the collar down more so he could touch her warm, sensitive skin. His large hands were almost the size of her shoulders, and the warmth of them was like she was being touched by heaven itself. She couldn't get over how massive this male elf was, he was so different, but in such a sensual way it kept bringing this intense feeling, quivering deep in her core. His hands wandered down, softly letting his fingertips stroke her bare back, and a shiver wracked her body. She felt the gooseflesh grow over her skin, and the feeling washed over her body, and she felt her nipples pebble in the chill.

He nipped at her lower lip, and was rewarded with a soft sigh from her mouth. He took it as a good sign, and one of his hands drifted lazily up to her breast, to gently cup the fleshy mound. Marcail quickly inhaled through her teeth, hissing at the act. He kneaded the soft orb, and was glad to find that even though blood elves were small, Marcail's breasts were just the right size for his hand. He rolled a lightly calloused thumb over her hard nipple, and a feminine gasp came from her with the action. He used this opportunity to clamp down over her lips again, dipping his tongue into her delicious mouth. He was more demanding of her response with this kiss, as his need was being wound tighter with her exhilarating welcome responses to him.

He was already rewarded with so much, and he wanted more. He firmly grasped her luscious, tantalizing hips that had been swaying just out of reach a few hours ago, and yanked her body into his. A startled, and muffled squeak came from her as her body was suddenly melded to his, the curve of her breast, stomach, and woman's mound was suddenly all pressed into the few hundred pounds of searing night elf male hardness. The heat from his chest threatened to consume her, and she felt his strong heartbeat against her own soft chest. His hands molded her round and supple bottom, kneading and pulling and rocking her woman's core against his own thick arousal.

She sharply gasped, pulling away, as the act became too intimate to perform with him. Sliding her body down his thighs to the bed, and clapping her hands to her lips, her face warped in shock, confusion, and doubt. Immediately, Galen felt her fear spread into his chest. He backed up to give her some space, but then he instantly reached for her to try and comfort her.

"Marcail," he said, his face full of concern and remorse.

As his hands came to her shoulders, she squeezed her eyes shut and dodged them, scrambling to the door. She grabbed the handle and jerked the door open, only to have Galen behind her lean his weight into the door, slamming it shut.

"Marcail," he said again, his words suddenly grew soothing and settling.

She trembled against the wooden door, her hand still on the doorknob, not meeting his eyes or turning around. Her fear and confusion were overwhelming her, piercing through her chest at Galen's current actions, barring her from her exit. Still, if he wanted to assault her, he would have done so a few seconds ago. And without her magic, she wouldn't be able to do anything but comply and endure.

"I'm sorry," he tried again.

"No, don't apologize," she whispered. "Please don't take everything back." Her eyes briefly glanced over her exposed shoulder at him.

"Take what back?" He kept his lean on the door, trapping her from escaping.

"That," she sighed, trembling as small tears formed at the edge of her eyes. "Don't apologize and take it all back." Galen's golden eyes grew puzzled.

"You," he paused, "welcomed it?" She nodded. "Still?" She nodded again, sheepishly. He carefully moved his hand to her shoulder, where her breath hitched as she stared into his eyes. He gripped the cloth of her collar, and tugged it over her shoulder. He then removed his arm from the door and turned away from her, walking to the desk and hunching over it.

"I-I feel I should explain," she said, timidly.

"No you don't," he replied, his tone changed back to normal.

She winced at the lack of sensitivity in his voice. She suddenly felt rejected, her head falling to the ground and her shoulders slacking. She turned the knob on the door, but right before she left, she repeated his words to him in a soft, gentle voice.

"There are things at work here that you could not understand."

He lifted his head, but when he turned to her, she had already left through the door. He was left with the view of her back, and those soft deep honey-golden locks cascading down her shoulders as she closed the door behind her. It took every ounce of training and self restraint to not grab a sword and bring it down over the desk to splinter it to pieces.