"Son, I may be blind, but did you think you could bring a blood elf in our home without me knowing?" His father demanded as Galen led him to his favorite chair in his study.
"Father, I would not insult you as such. I was going to tell you as soon as I came here, I promise."
"Galen, you've never led this family astray since your mother passed," his father stroked his silver and turquoise beard.
"And I'm not doing so now."
"Are you sure?" His father, Tanavar, asked.
"I'd stake my life on it." Galen answered.
"Then you would live a short life if you truly believe those words." His father sighed.
"Are you seriously doubting my ability to lead by me bringing a blood elf here?" Galen demanded.
"If it were only that simple, my son." Tanavar saw through his son's pig-headedness, knowing there was much more to this story. "Son, I've heard rumors of an Alliance raid in Silvermoon." Galen's eyes widened in surprise.
Word traveled faster than he did. He heard his father let out a small chuckle.
"You think I didn't know that was you?" Tanavar asked.
"How are you so sure that was me?"
"I've known that you've been seeking cold revenge for that incident in Alterac Valley-"
"It wasn't just an incident, Father," Galen angriliy interrupted. "The sin'dorei humiliated me in front of my superior officers, to the point where I couldn't show my face at my post."
"Galen." Tanavar stood, slowly, as he used the armrest of the chair for help. His silver eyes flickered with unrest. His tone had gone firm, as his face grew with discontent. "I have urged you to abandon these thoughts of revenge. You keep going down this path. What have you done to the poor girl?"
Galen almost thought he didn't hear him right. He was seriously talking to him about the blood elf's best interest? Galen was beside himself.
"Holy Arthas' ass, Father!"
"Don't take that tone with me," Tanavar sensed his son's anger with taking the girl's side. "This girl has no part in your hateful revenge. How could you involve an innocent? Your mother and I did not raise this blackness in your soul. What has become of you, my son?" Galen scoffed and started to pace the room.
"We can't all have your ability to keep your hands clean, Father. I'm willing to risk my soul for the ability to hold my head high back at my post. Some of us have to protect the Alliance, at any cost."
"If you truly believe that, you are lost." Tanavar shook his head.
"You were once a great druid yourself, you butchered Horde in your day. What makes you think you can stand so high and mighty and put yourself above me?" Galen demanded, still pacing the room.
"I can't," his father hung his head, knowing his own past. "I would give anything if I could go back and time and tell myself these words. To have the knowledge to forgive my enemies." Silence fell over them both as Galen stopped pacing and stared at his aging father.
"Does this mean I am no longer welcome here? Do I need to find somewhere else to wait out the ransom?"
"No, son, you are welcome here. Even if you are willing to risk your soul for this." His father turned away from his son, lowering himself to the seat and leaning into his head. A knock came on the door, and Lavena poked her white head in the room.
"Is everything okay? I heard shouting," she said nervously.
"Everything is fine, my daughter," Tanavar answered, but Lavena knew that there was something wrong.
Galen immediately turned from his father and left the room, stalking off to the training dummies they kept in the backyard for practice. He needed to release the tension from his strained conversation with his father. After he was out of ear reach, Lavena looked to her father.
"Is he going to be okay?" She asked.
"Pray, Lavena. Pray that he lets the light back into his heart."
.
As Marcail lounged around the room, stretching her arms and breathing in the smell of wisteria dangling from her canopy, she started to hear clinking noises of metal. Looking around the room to see where it was coming from, she carefully walked barefoot on the wood. An ear twitched toward the window, and she followed the sound. Looking down from the window, there was Galen, shirtless, wailing on a dummy. He was slashing away, showing moves she had never seen a warrior perform so close before. She was entranced by him, as he threw his energy and passion into the movement of his sword and footsteps. He was as light as a rogue on his feet, but as powerful as a warrior of his stature should be.
She fought the urge to go down the staircase to see him closer, fearing of running into one of his family members. She watched his muscles grip and flex as his powerful back glistened in the sunlight. Marcail couldn't help but lean forward more, to admire his agility and power. He still surprised her, for most night elf warriors she had encountered were not as lean as he. That didn't make him any less deadly, as she watched him spin on his feet and deliver a shattering blow into the thick wood. The necklace circled with him, the green gem filled with her magic twinkled in the sunlight. He finally started to let up, as his chest and shoulders heaved with his heavy breath. She remembered his warm breath on her neck back in the privacy of the room they shared on the ship. He had given her a pleasure she had never felt before, and she found herself longing for his touch at that very moment.
As if he sensed someone was watching him, the warrior looked up to see the mage, staring down at him through the open window to her room. A knowing smirk formed on his face; he had seen the way she was staring at him. His eyes intensely shot through her with such a force that she let out a yelp and stepped back. She saw his smirk, but she hadn't prepared for the intense sorrow, anger, and loneliness feelings to sweep through her. It was so strange, as if she had felt his emotions at the very moment. What just happened?
"Marcail? Are you alright?" A feminine voice called from the hall as Lavena entered in her open door.
"Y-yes," she turned to face Lavena, meeting her silver eyes with her own emerald ones.
"I heard you cry out," the priestess explained, as she brought a tray in and set it down on the nightstand. "I brought you some water, we have a stream that runs right from the mountains, here. It's cold and very crisp. Probably not what you're used to in Silvermoon."
"I'm sure I'll love it. Thank you," she replied, her face as still as stone, trying to recover from that smoldering stare still tingling her senses.
"You know, I wanted to apologize on behalf of my sister, Darine."
"Oh," Marcail rolled her eyes, remembering what First Mate Wavesinger said to her, "I've had worse introductions before."
"Well, that's not how our parents raised us. We were raised to be supportive of each other. And support and protect the good. Darine and Galen are both very strong-minded people."
"I've witnessed just how strong-minded your brother can be," the blood elf said, dryly. When the priestess' face reflected sadness, she immediately felt remorse. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you."
"No, I understand. When my brother wants something, he's almost impossible to talk out of." She looked at the blood elf, as she sat on the side of the bed and took a sip of the water that Lavena brought for her. She almost breathed a sigh of relief as the cool liquid calmed her throat.
"I wanted to let you know, that while you are here, don't hesitate to ask me for anything." The night elf smiled, "I have night rails and extra shifts. They might be a little big, but I can tailor them for you."
"Lavena!" The blood elf frowned. "I don't want to put all that on you, that's too much work for one person."
"Well," her silver eyes looked to the floor, "maybe we can work out an arrangement?" The blood elf's eyebrows knitted together in concern.
"Like what kind of arrangement?"
"Perhaps you could work with me."
"Oh," she suddenly felt embarrassed. "I don't know how to sew."
"I could teach you, if you wanted." The night elf offered. Marcail nodded tentatively, agreeing not only to help her, but because she had no idea what she was going to do with the time that she had waiting around. Maybe she could find out more about the family, and why they spoke Thalassian so well. And she thought she could learn more about Galen as an added plus. She reminded herself that she was only interested to learn more about her enemy.
"Well, then," Marcail licked her lips, "when should I start?" She gave a smile, which was instantly matched with the night elf's.
"Come with me." Lavena grinned happily.
.
Marcail sighed heavily in the bed she was supposed to be asleep in. Looking up at the wisteria floating gently in the breeze above her head had calmed her down, but she just couldn't sleep. She had spent the entire afternoon learning how to sew with Lavena. She had started out miserably. She had pricked her fingers raw, but the night elf had graciously healed them for her so she could continue her work. She continued her stitching even when she felt her eyes crossing. When dinner rolled around, Lavena excused herself, and left the room. Only to return with a tray with two bowls of stew and a large loaf of bread on it. They ate together, carefully, to not spill any of the stew. Marcail was working with cheap linen, but she still didn't want to get it messy.
It had been a long day, she knew that she should get some sleep. Her mind was exhausted from focusing that hard. She hadn't studied that much since her days in the mage academy. She rolled over in the bed, propping herself up with an arm, looking to the window. She hadn't wanted to go anywhere when the family was awake, but now, after only listening to the night breeze, she was almost certain that everyone had gone to bed. Marcail felt the need to explore the land of Teldrassil. She had been cooped up in Ironforge, and then a ship for over a week. Not to mention how welcome she was to the rest of Galen's family. Breathing in the fresh air seemed more important than anything else at the moment. She swung her legs around and let her tiny bare feet touch the purple wood. She had on a silk night rail that hugged her curves and touched her ankles. However, the top part was so revealing, with crème silken straps almost as thin as the thread she was working with. The dress accentuated her cleavage, so she reached for the cloak she had on when she came in. Since it was Galen's, it dragged on the ground behind her, slightly, but at least it would keep her warm. After fastening it around her shoulders, she carefully reached for the doorknob and gently, quietly pushed the door open. She peeked from the doorway, and observed nothing but the moonlit hallway before her.
She tip toed in her bare feet, trying to be lighter on her feet to not wake anyone up. Walking down the marble staircase in the tower was strange. Nature had seeped into the home, and the fuzzy feel of moss over the cool marble brought a strange feeling that bubbled inside her. She wasn't sure, but was the feeling... comfort? She remembered the conversation from earlier that day, and the elder Moonblade with one of his daughters had entered the house from behind. Maybe there was more of the grounds in the back of the house? Like her courtyard in her family's town home in Silvermoon.
Marcail sneaked down the hallway, and when she got to the back of the house, she was astounded. It was huge, with a large table in the kitchen, with eight seats. The door leading outside to the garden wasn't even a door. Calling a "door" didn't do it justice, for a large, perfect, half circle opening was cut in the wall. She strolled outside, and was once again struck by the amazing beauty of the land. Now, since she was alone, she was free to observe at her own pace. Walking down the marble walkway, she passed through the garden, where the land opened up, leaving about four hundred meters of open space of minted green and royal purple grass. But that wasn't what astounded her most. It was the pond to her left, glittering in deep navy, like most of the Moonblade's hair. It was almost the size of the whole estate. There was even a path down to a dock.
Marcail couldn't resist the call of the shimmering water, reflecting the soft moonlight back to her. She started down the path, opening the cloak a little, letting the soothing night air breeze over her. She walked out to the end of the dock, and sat down, dangling her feet from the edge, hovering just a little above the water. She looked up to the treeline, looking at the stars play before her. It was such a wonderful scene, and somewhere in the air, she swore she had a waft of night jasmine every now and then. She lowered herself to the dock, laying on her back, looking up into the night sky.
She put a hand up to her forehead, wishing she had a sense of control over her life. If she died tomorrow, the feeling that she hadn't lived enough struck her, hard. She was suddenly overwhelmed with the sudden desire to live and survive. She hadn't earned the right to go back to her old post in Northrend. She hadn't made peace with her brother, or her parents for that matter. She hadn't had enough moments in the sun, or the feeling of casting a spell. She hadn't fallen in love, and lived her life out with her soul mate, watching grandchildren grow up and sipping tea in Eversong Woods with a woolen blanket draped on her lap.
She tried not to cry, thinking of her mother and how she missed her greatly. As she fought back the tears, she felt foolish, for there was no one else there to see her tears but the trees. Throwing an arm over her eyes, she sobbed woefully. If her mother were there, she would stroke her hair, lovingly, and ask Marcail to tell her all her problems. She would reflect on it and give her daughter the best advice she could. Whenever she had fallen apart, her mother had been there to pick up the pieces and put her back out into the world. Suddenly, she was struck with hot rage. If she died tomorrow, the thing she would be extremely seething with fury to the night elf who caused all of this to happen to her. She swore to herself she would fight until the last breath, no matter what came her way. She rolled her arm off of her eyes, staring up into the sky again. That was when she heard footsteps on the wood behind her. There was nothing to arm herself with, but she still had enough magic to frost nova the intruder and get away. She pounced to her feet, readying her attack.
"Hey!" A startled Galen protested, as he saw the determination in her eyes. "It's just me."
"Give me a reason not to attack you," she glared menacingly at him, curling her fingers out like she was about to claw him out like a she-cat. She was met with a scowl, as the night elf started walking toward her again. The night elf was dressed only in a pair of laced up cloth breeches. His shirtless, hairless torso instantly made her body shiver. She quickly shoved that feeling aside and mustered all her anger together.
"Because," in two steps he closed the distance between them and grabbed her wrist that was hovering in the air and lowered it. "I hold your magic, and I can easily defeat you."
"Coward," she spat, "face me like a true fighter."
"I did," he sneered. "You were bested."
"You backed me into a corner and knocked me out! If I had met you in Northrend I would have killed you." She tried to snatch her wrist from his grip, but he held tighter.
"Now you listen here," he snapped, pulling her into his chest, ready to give an earful to the mage, when he remembered that he didn't want to be cross with her. Not now, not after first coming home and listening to an earful from his family at dinner. He let out a long breath as he released her. She snatched her wrist back and rubbed where he had touched her.
"I didn't come out here to fight," he looked to the side, out toward the pond.
"Then what did you come here for?"
"I came because I heard you leave the house," his eyes met hers. "And then I heard crying." She kept her glare and rigid posture, wishing she had her magic back so she could hurt him and make him beg for mercy. A wicked half smile formed on her lips. "Why are you smiling like that?"
"I'm just thinking of different ways I'd like to kill you if I had my magic back," she smirked. "I think I would use my fire spells, just this once."
"Elune, stop it!" He grabbed her arms forcefully. Galen didn't want to hear how much she hated him. He knew she had every right to, and if she wanted to kill him, he couldn't blame the mage. If she wanted to kill him a thousand times over, he would understand. But he couldn't stand hear the burning hate in her voice while she spoke of it. It froze his insides, threatening to stop his heart.
"What? You want to live? Well so would I, Galen. I want to live. I want my own life, far away from here."
"I thought you said you didn't want to go on anymore." Lust suddenly washed over the night elf as she spoke with such passion, and the way her chest kept rising and falling was so tantalizing. He had noticed the state of dress she was in as soon has he emerged from the house, and his eyes fastened on her full breasts. The white silk material clung to her figure, he could see every curve, even if she had tried to cover it up in his cloak. In the cool breeze, her nipples had hardened under the white silk, and he followed the outline to each perfect one on her perfect breasts. His manhood instantly stiffened and he clenched his fists.
"I changed my mind." She said through gritted teeth.
"I see that," the night elf let her go, dropping his hands to his side, as he tried looking away from her cleavage. He stood there, awkwardly, not moving.
"Are you done? I was trying to enjoy the night before I was so rudely interrupted."
"You mean when you were sobbing?" The night elf couldn't help but point out. This female sure knew how to make his blood boil one minute, and then have him lusting after her like a young male nightsaber after a female in heat. Marcail glared, but chose to spin around, with her back to him, and sit on the corner of the dock, away from him.
"You've taken my magic, my pride, and my freedom. I won't let you take anything else away from me, kal'dorei." She hissed, folding her legs under her, hoping he would just leave her. She heard a heavy sigh, and then he actually crouched down to her level, and sat beside her with his legs dangling over the side of the dock. He looked directly at her, but she avoided looking at him.
"I didn't come here to fight. I heard someone stirring in the house, only to hear that someone was upset." He knew he was tweaking the truth. He actually couldn't sleep, and he was only thinking about the room above his, and her body, molded to the bed. He was thinking of how her sheets were caressing and covering her round rump and thighs, and how they were doing what he longed to do to her. He heard the soft creak of wood under her feet when she moved from her bed. He had actually tracked her from the moment she left, placing her in each part of the house as she walked. Why Lavena gave Marcail the room above his, he would never know why. But he would be damned if she switched rooms. He would make sure of it.
When she didn't respond, he continued, "I know today was rough. I know this whole thing has been horrifying for you. I do sincerely apologize for what happened in Ironforge. It's been a long time since-" he stopped himself, and he saw her eyes quickly dart to him, but only to dart back to the forest. "I'm used to traveling with soldiers, in heavy gear, and battle ready. But that's no excuse. I just want you to know how sorry I am."
"Are you going to release me?" She asked, but she knew the answer already.
"I can't do that just yet." He shook his head, looking into the water. "But I want to make your stay here at the Moonblade Estate a comfortable one. As comfortable as I can manage. I've spoken to my father, and Darine will not be allowed to lay another finger on you. I swear it." He heard her let out a sigh.
"She said she's going to have you hanged." She said, as nonchalantly as if she were speaking of the weather.
"She wouldn't do that, she's just angry. But if she did, I bet you would rejoice over my grave. You would have your magic back, and you would be free to leave." She didn't respond to him, again. Instead, she continued to study the forest. They were silent for a while, before she finally spoke up.
"I would feel bad if someone tried to kill their own brother." Marcail knew that she would probably feel a lot more than that. Families to her meant everything. "Mostly for your sister, Lavena." She added in, just to take back a little of her statement, but even that scrap of kindness still soothed Galen.
"I'll take it," he nodded.
"Why are you still out here, Galen?" She looked over her shoulder at him.
"I was going to ask if you were having trouble sleeping here." He shrugged. Marcail gave up. She didn't want to keep fighting with him so viciously, especially since she was going to be here longer.
"I guess a little." She shrugged, fiddling with the seam on her side.
"Were you sleeping this afternoon?" He asked, as she snorted.
"Yeah, as if I could fall asleep after that look you gave me."
"What look was that?"
"When you were below my window, fighting with a practice dummy." She rolled her eyes. He felt another wave of emotions hit him at once. So it shook her as deeply as he felt in that moment. The dress of sapphire blue she wore brought out her beauty, even from three floors down.
"So it affected you," amusement played in his eyes, and the corners of his lips curved slightly. She huffed and her eyebrows drew together.
"Impossible man," she muttered, turning her gaze back to the open lake. But her voice had lost the bite, and almost came out like a purr as she remembered the feeling that washed her body up and down.
"Stop fighting it," he murmured, his hand came up and started to trace lazy circles on her back. He saw her shoulders shake as she let out a shiver.
"T-this is improper," she stammered, but she made no moves against his touch. She couldn't even if she wanted to, her body had frozen itself in place, and that scorching burn over her body had returned.
He raised a hand to her face, and tucked a lock of her golden hair behind her ear. He didn't stop there, as he traced her jawline of her soft, creamy skin, letting his finger trail down her neck. She shuddered violently and felt her nipples pebble against the material of her night shift. She sat up straighter, threading her hands and squeezing her legs together as she felt a wild sensation to open her legs. She was a lady! She wasn't supposed to be feeling the way she was at the moment, but she still couldn't move. All she could do was brace herself as he continued stroking her collarbone, and she bit her lip to keep from moaning. Her body was refusing to obey her mind, as it sought out Galen's caresses. A deep feeling in the bottom of her stomach began to twist, and she felt a tingling sensation pooling between her legs.
"Damn it all to hell, stop avoiding me," his hands went strait to either side of her head, fingers burying themselves in her soft hair as he brought their lips together.
He found himself shocked as she responded, with a new hunger. This time her small tongue flicked against his lip. With her boldness, she was rewarded with a deep rumble of approval from the warrior, and his tongue dipped into her mouth, sparing against hers. Her palms splayed on his chest, and she started to shift to her knees on the dock, before boldly climbing into his lap, straddling his waist. Another deep, primal rumble was torn from him, and she felt herself smiling. A small victory in her heart swirled around her, blinding her and enhancing her senses. She praised the Light he hadn't worn a shirt. She named everything holy in the world and silently praised it all that he had come to her like this, so she could openly explore his beautiful body. It rose and fell in all the right places, and with all the years of wearing plate and wielding swords, his body was perfectly cut.
Galen felt his breeches growing tighter, and it produce an exquisite pain and pleasure at the same time. He wanted to loosen them desperately, but he had Marcail's legs hugging his hips, and her beautiful bottom planted right on his lap. He feared one wrong move would send her flying for the house. Her hands explored him openly, as they trailed from his shoulders, down to his chest, and she stroked his abs in small circles, coming dangerously close to his erection. As she explored him, he drifted a large hand up her skirts, feeling her slender legs and naked thighs. A sharp intake of air came from her, but still returned his feverish kisses, and dug her fingers into his sides. His hand drifted over her woman's mound, and she felt herself freeze, as if time had stopped in that very moment.
He fumbled with something on himself, and then suddenly let out a tiny sigh of relief. Then his kisses turned hotter, more demanding and possessive. It was as if he were never going to have enough of what she was giving him, but he still desperately demanded more. He wanted so much more of this, he needed this, especially from her. His hands both came to her round bottom, and he grasped it in his hands, squeezing and then pulling her core against his rod. His hands worshiped her creamy, warm skin as he squeezed and stroked her. She gasped, throwing her head back as she felt the heat radiating from him into her nether folds. He growled in pleasure as he felt her cleft through her soaked panties. That didn't take long, he thought, smugly.
He pushed his cheek against her neck, trailing kisses from her shoulders and breathing in the smell of wisteria on her. He brought his kisses up to her soft neck, burying his face in her hair, searching for her weak spot. It didn't take long, as he flicked his tongue against it. She gasped again, her breathing becoming thicker and heavier. Then she did something that stopped his heart and almost spilled him right there. She began swiveling her hips, grinding her hot, slick flesh against his rod. She was being devoured by their passion, losing herself completely in the moment, rocking her soaked nether lips against him. It was torture, as he hissed and tried to pull himself back. He did not want to spill his seed like this, and trying to calm himself down with her softness sliding up and down his throbbing head. He had to slow himself down, but keep her happy.
He took his hand, sliding around her middle and dipped it in her panties. The other hand still cupped her smooth bottom, holding her against him. He swirled his finger into the cleft of her folds, and began moving in small circles. She cried out, backing her luscious breasts away from him. He wanted nothing more than to rid herself of that thin night rail and cloak that was still wrapped around her shoulders, but giving her the release she needed was more important. She rocked against his hand, as he twirled her nub with his calloused fingerpad. He could tell she was so close to her release, and was a little surprised at how wound up she already was.
Marcail had never experienced such a sensation before, and she didn't want it to stop. Her soft cries seemed to encourage what he was doing to her. She grasped his shoulders, grounding her and pulling herself into his chest, and nipping at his ear. She felt the twisting pit in her stomach winding tighter and tighter, until she almost thought she couldn't stand it. When she felt him use his knuckles on her, that's when it all came crashing down in such wonderful bliss, as white sparks filled her vision and her body convulsed. She cried out his name, and Galen felt himself smile all over, knowing he had made her scream his name in her pleasure. It was the most rewarding and pleasurable feeling he had in a very long time. She clung to him, trembling and her nub still throbbing and the convulsions slowed down. Her breathing was ragged and her skin was coated in a thin sheen of lover's sweat.
Galen began to reach for her again, to show her that there was still a lot more to explore. He wasn't finished, not by a long shot. He buried his head in her hair when the least desirable noise came from across the lake.
"Galen!" A voice called, and he immediately recognized it as Lavena's voice. He tried to ignore it, but she called again. Marcail, still shaking and recovering her breathing pulled back and looked over her shoulder to see one of his sisters calling for him at the kitchen window.
"Galen is she okay? What are you two doing out there?" Lavena called out. The mage yipped, as her senses suddenly came to her. She quickly hopped off of the warrior's lap and stood. She immediately knew that was a bad idea, as she felt dizzy.
"We're coming back," Galen called back, as he saw her turn and walk back to the house. He shifted his eyes to the mage, and instantly knitted his brows in concern. She wobbled on her legs, and her skin had paled almost to the same color as when she was sick. He was on his feet in an instant, coming to her side just as her knees gave out from under her. Catching her, he grasped her by her elbows.
"Are you alright?"
"Yes, yes," she said, weakly. "I'm just... a little light headed."
"Has this ever happened before?" He asked, trying to steady her, but she began to pull down on his arms as she crouched down into a sitting position.
"What?" She asked him, her eyes dazed and blank as she was still coming down from her high.
"I mean, have you been this light headed before after your release?"
"My," she looked at him quizzically, "release?"
He raised an eyebrow, as she suddenly realized what he was asking. Her eyes snapped open and she blushed furiously. She jumped to her feet again as she sobered quickly. Reality came falling back into place, piece by piece as she realized what she had just done. She slapped a hand to her mouth and looked at him in absolute horror. Her eyes grew wide and her face burned with shame. She did the only thing she could at that moment, she turned and ran. Marcail heard her name being called, but it quickly stopped as soon as she was off of the dock. She felt hot tears in her eyes as she raced into the house, almost knocking over Lavena. She murmured an apology as she kept going until she reached her room. She yanked her door open and leaned her back to it to close it, as she her back down the door and sat.
Her thoughts raced as fast as her heart and breath did as she undid the clasp of the cloak around her shoulders and it pooled to the ground. She felt herself cooling down, and settling a little more without the uncomfortable warmth hugging her. Why had she let that night elf do those things to her? Why had her body cried out for more of his touch? Sure, his kisses were sweet, but she had never known such an ecstasy had ever existed in life before. Was that what lovers did? Was she supposed to do that with Nellan? Her body jerked in displeasure with the image of Nellan doing that to her instead of Galen. She felt angry, and a little betrayed by her mother. Why had she never told her of this? Of course she knew what sex was and having children, but she never really knew about that sweet wave of high her body had surrendered to Galen. Then, she blushed, thinking of trying to have the conversation with her mother. Perhaps this was just something she needed to discover on her own. Perhaps this was a conversation to have only between her lover and herself. Marcail pulled her knees in close to her body, wrapping her arms around her legs and dipping her forehead into her lap. This was not good.
.
Galen watched as Marcail's honey-colored hair whipped around while she ran away from him. He felt every good emotion bled from his chest all the way down to the dock, and seeped between the cracks of the planks, settling with the water beneath it. He watched her push past his sister and disappear into the house. He really wanted to chase her down, to hold her and comfort her and tell him what was going though her mind. Unfortunately, Lavena still stood there, looking back and forth between Marcail in the house, and him out on the dock. He shook his head vigorously, and marched up the dock back to the house.
"What happened, Galen? That girl was positively terrified!" His sister asked, as his footsteps met the porch, her eyes wide in concern behind those leaf tattoos. He grunted as his face grimaced with partial embarrassment and a stab of pain that she ran off without a single word to him. His sister quickly reached out and grabbed his arm, halting him from going further into the house. "I asked you a question."
"I won't say a word," he looked down at her hand on his biscep, and then met her gaze. "You will have to speak to her." He growled, shaking his arm away from her and showing her his still shirtless back. He entered his room and quietly shut his door, trying to save any more noise from bothering his family any more. He threw himself on the bed, tossing an arm over his eyes and let out a deep, fulfilling sigh. His ears quickly tried to pinpoint where Marcail was in her room above him. The floorboards betrayed him, as he didn't hear a single sound. Not even from the house settling. It was as still as a moonwell at night. He let out another sigh and tried to force his body into a deep slumber.
.
Hayden ran through the Court of the Sun, as dusk was approaching in the sky, brushing past groups of nobles that were gathered in circles in the square. He heard voices and gasps of distress behind him, but he didn't bother to turn around and apologize. They found her. They finally found her! Hayden thought to himself. His mother told him where to find his father, as he dashed up the steps to the Sunfury Spire. He immediately veered to the left as he came in through the entrance to the palace. A wave of nostalgia hit him as he remembered when the Spire was occupied by royalty. That was long ago.
His steps slowed as his feet crossed the threshold of the mage's library. He strolled past all the novice mages, speaking to the masters, searching for books, and focusing hard on practice spells. He didn't want to draw attention to where he was going. Technically, a blood elf would have to be invited in to his father's office at the library, including him, but he was not going to let this one go. He turned behind a book stack, and walked down the isle of bookshelves to the end of the wall. Pushing some books out of the way, and pulling the lever carefully, the door swung open without a sound. Hayden rolled his eyes at how cheesy a "secret" entrance was. When his father acquired the office, he had a bookshelf placed on the door and the door handle hidden behind books. He glanced behind his shoulder, saw that the coast was clear, and entered into the spiral staircase that lead to the office. Closing the door behind him, he heard distressed voices above him. He moved soundlessly, like a rogue in stealth as he eavesdropped on the conversation.
"I am sure of it, she has been taken to Kalimdor," the familiar voice of Nellan spoke. "The rangers have all agreed on it."
"I could care less what the rangers think, they could be further from the truth than we know it. We lack hard facts." He heard his father snap back at the paladin.
"We have nothing else to go on, Fergus." A voice he didn't recognize spoke back.
"Magister Fergus," Nellan started, "It's not just the rangers that have confirmed it. I also have spies in all the major cities of the Alliance, and they are all reporting of a mysterious mass murder in Ironforge almost a week ago. They reported two figures moving toward the Deeprun Tram. If that indeed is your daughter, then my best guess is they have switched continents."
"'Best guesses'," the elder mage mocked. "Is this truly all you have for me?"
"Tread carefully, Fergus," the third voice said. "Underestimating my son would be a terrible mistake." So this must be Orick Lightbringer. Hayden thought to himself.
"I want my daughter back!" Hayden heard his father's voice crack, and then the air around them grew awkwardly silent.
"We will find her, Magister." Nellan's stressed voice answered. "This attack was vicious, and done in a mana-starved state. There is no one else who could be as powerful as to take out almost 30 spell casters at once, and draining them of all their mana. This attack has Marcail written all over it."
"I wish I could believe you, Nellan, I really do."
"It is my top priority, to bring your daughter back alive and unharmed." The young paladin answered. Hayden heard the familiar sarcastic scoff that was his father's.
"Don't try to make me believe that you actually care for her, Nellan. I've known from the very beginning she is not your first choice."
The tension loomed over them like a thick fog, or heavy humidity, where it hurt to even breathe in the room.
"No, Magister, I will not lie to you. I do not love her, but honor and duty mean more to me than such trivial things as love."
"So you do believe love is trivial?" Fergus demanded. Hayden felt his eyebrows shoot up. He had never heard his father speak so passionately about anything other than honor and duty.
"What is this Fergus? You're putting my son on trial for not loving your daughter? You yourself married for a political match," Orick pointed out.
"Yes. Indeed I did," the elder mage sighed. "But I grew to respect my wife, admire her and even love her dearly over the years we were married. I was a fool for thinking that my experiences would work for my own children." His voice echoed deep regret.
"Well it's way too late to start growing a conscience now," Orick snapped, feeling no sympathy for his son's future father-in-law. "If you back out of this, I won't rest until I see you lose everything. And I do mean everything."
The cruelness of his words boiled acid into the room, as Hayden felt his own concern skyrocket for his father. "Let us take our leave, Nellan. We have work to do."
The young mage heard the stomping sounds of plate armored boots on wood, as they reached the stairs. Hayden casted an invisibility spell on himself, and held his breath as the two paladins down the staircase and out of the office. Then he heard his father let out a loud roar of pure torment and frustration. He heard the sound of books crashing to the floor as Hayden walked up the spiral staircase to watch his father push over a bookcase. The invisibility spell faded, and the young mage allowed himself to be seen. His father looked up with his fists clenched at his sides, teeth baring, and the pure arcane magic pulsated off of him. They stood there, staring back at each other before his father fell to one knee. Hayden rushed to his side, even though their relationship was strained, he still had the instinct of a good son. The young mage carefully placed a hand on his father's shaking shoulder.
"I've ruined my daughter, Hayden," Fergus Dawnfire's voice wavered, reflecting pain and guilt. Hayden was struck speechless. He believed he would never hear those words coming from his father. Not in his lifetime. "I've really ruined her."
"Don't talk like that. We'll find Marcail, Father." A strong determination rose in his voice. His father let out a bitter laugh, as he blinked back hot tears.
"I pray that if we do, we can find a way to keep her out of the Lightbringer's clutches. I never thought or believed they would be this ruthless in their quest for Marcail and her unique powers." A hand scrubbed down his face in despair.
"What do you mean, Father?" The elder mage finally made eye contact with his son, and his brows knitted in concern.
"Hayden, what I am about to tell you must never, ever leave this room. Don't even repeat it to your mother."
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There you go! Another chapter down! I'm going to start making my chapters longer, because actually haven't even started writing the ending to this yet. As I explained my writing style before, I write my stories in bits and pieces, writing in scenes when they hit me, and quickly jot them down. Then I have to go back in, edit them, and try and tie them together. I don't want you guys to read my jumbled thoughts, kind of like my last two books. Some of you were able to understand my crazy writing, but it didn't have the quality that this story has, now that I proofread and reread the story a few times before posting it.
Thank you all for your continued support, I am very grateful. An artist loves hearing feedback, so please, give me your constructive criticism! Even if you think it might be a little mean (don't flame me, please), I would like to hear what you think. I feel like there's always room for improvement. My best reviewers tell me what they like and don't like about the story, and I can tailor it to fit my readers better.
Thanks again! Until next time.
Cheers,
Chaser
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Update 5/12/13: So I noticed that I left out a big part of this chapter, and I just reread it now. UGH I hate it when this slips up. Anyway, sorry about that! I am still continuing this story, I'm just having a lot of real life issues.